I will begin this new journey by, one last time, posting a copy of the article I wrote for my local paper. This will be the last time I copy and paste an article. Instead I will write what my Facebook friends and followers have been reading over the last three months. This will keep me from continually boring them with stuff they probably don't want to read every day, and will give them a chance to read my thoughts if they are truly interested.
A little over seven years ago I was asked by the Hattiesburg American to join the stable of writers from the community. When I was first approached I thought I was a sympathy selection. My daughter had just passed away and I reasoned that I my submission was selected among the many offered because the editor at the time felt sorry for me. When I went to the office to meet the editor I was told that he had not realized I was THAT Kevin Harrison. It was only then that I felt that I was selected on the merits of my writing rather than sympathy. And so I wrote. I wrote what was on my heart.
The first few articles were all about my daughter. Lessons she had taught me. Things I had learned about grief. About life without her. As time progressed I began to find other topics to write about. Some entertaining. Some humorous. And, hopefully, some enlightening. My daughter was still at the front of my mind, but I found I could still write about life in general without always bringing her into the story. But even then I would include her by occasionally starting each sentence with a letter that, if lined up, would spell out that I loved My Beth.
For the last few months though, my articles have not been found on the pages of the American. Not because the editors didn’t want to print them, but because I had not submitted them.
When your life gets turned upside down you do what you can to cope. My daughter was my hero. All those years I thought I was teaching her when she was teaching me. She taught me to be a better dad. A better communicator. To have more patience. To stand for what I believe in. All these lessons I have learned about being a parent I did not get to put into practice again. Four miscarriages can keep you from testing these skills out on a new child. So I took what I learned and put it into practice with the children in my church nursery. Each week I would let these children fill my bucket for the next week. Four hours a week and I was good.
Until June. That’s when my world got flipped again. Now I’ve learned new lessons and I get to put old ones into practice. I’m learning again how to deal with the injustices of life. And I am remembering that I can only get through it with the faith that I have in God and the friends and family He has put in my life. So, after 26 years I find myself in a position I have never been in before. I am living alone. My Wanda won the race to her daughter’s side. One day I too will get to join them but until then I will still run this race to the best of my ability. And I WILL make it. For I am “pressed but not crushed; persecuted, not abandoned; struck down, but I AM NOT DESTROYED.”
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