An American Shrine of Sorts

When asked what war my brother died in, I now reply "The Cold War." He was 19, serving in Germany, and was due home in 6 months. He died in a car accident. This is the first time I have shared anything about this project. I implored my mother to save his lettters. She did. I read some of those letters  to write a piece of literary non-fiction, an assignment in  a graduate course. When I did my read-aloud of thee piece I titled "Letters Home," I noticed some eyes with tears. 

II  put off  doing more for a long time, always with the intention of expanding upon the first piece I wrote. Didn't happen.  After watching thiis class, I pondered addressing this family grief carried for decades and unpacked a very old leather suitcase that had been home to what I felt ready to address in addition to putting his flag and the photo of the two of us on the fireplace mantle.

A Box that Shared a Life

Once again I came upon those letters and photos and other stuff packed away. I opened the box

It was time to go back to an unfinished project.

New Correspondence

In one box of Donnie's stuff I found an old fountain pen, probably last used in 1961. I went on a search for Schaeffer cartridges to refill the pen. 

IFound the cblue artridges and started a journal, deeply satisfied that I could scribe the words to him with his own pen used to write to us so long ago. started writing. I didn't write about my life-long "complicated grief," but started writing as if I was starting a whole new conversation. I asked questions and shared updated about what he has missed. He LOVED rock and roll, especially  Little Richard. I recall him picking me up and dancing me around the living room in our old house to "Baby Face" and "Good Golly Miss Molly."  My handwriting is notoriously poor, but this initiative grew from grief into love. It's more than having been miraculously healed from the grief. Loss endures and is carried in memories, curiosities, creativity and for me, music too!  Love doesn't fade. I have lots more to say to him!

Thank-you Heidi, for the opportunity to share this, even a long time after viewing your heartfelt and gentle class. 

Judy

Sister to Donald McKay Williamson, Jr. (1941-1961)