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Trish St.Hill

Tag: grief

  • A TRIBUTE TO MY BROTHER

    trishsthill

    I have always said that my main love is not as a writer, but rather as a storyteller. It is my most effective form of communication. So please indulge me to tell this simple tale of love. Last night was a special night for our family, a night filled with love, laughter, and cherished memories. We got to celebrate our oldest sibling’s 70th birthday, a remarkable milestone that reflects a lifetime of experiences and wisdom. My brother Len had a birthday to remember, one that showcased how deeply he is loved and appreciated by his family. His wife and children went to extraordinary lengths to put on an epic event for his 70th, leaving no detail overlooked, ensuring that everything was perfect. His daughters, Maurica and Dia, along with his wife Sylvina, did a phenomenal job decorating the space. The vibrant colors and thoughtful touches created an atmosphere of joy, while the delicious aromas wafting from the kitchen hinted at some of the most scrumptious foods we could anticipate. Each dish was a labor of love, crafted with care and creativity, showcasing their culinary talents.
    My brother Junie and I had the crucial task of picking him up early for breakfast, a delightful opportunity to spend some quality time with him. The event was a surprise, so our job was to keep him occupied while the preparations were in full swing. It was heartwarming to share stories and laughter, reminiscing about the past and discussing what the future holds for him. Through careful coordination, we arrived at the event to a waiting crowd, their faces echoing waves of nostalgia and excitement as they eagerly anticipated his arrival. The music was beautiful, selecting his favorite tunes that transported us back in time, and the ambiance was mesmerizing, enveloping us in a warm, familial embrace. But my favorite part of the evening was undoubtedly the tributes. Tears were flowing, each word spoken a testament to the impact he has had on our lives. I imagined our dear mother was fluttering overhead, smiling down on the gathering with pride as we celebrated not just his birthday, but the incredible man he has become.

    As I stood looking at the event, I looked back at our days in Camden Park, St. Vincent and the Grenadines when our mother was running late from early morning shopping, how he would fill in by twisting me and my sister’s hair into hysterically looking pigtails, preparing us breakfast and taking us down the steep slope of Eddy Hill, before walking us up to Lowmans School. Before the age of 10, he could cook, clean, and wash like any adult, no doubt a weight put on him as the oldest child. But he did it with grace, always making us feel special and safe that he had our backs. So it was special to look back on the last 70 years of his life. But yesterday was special not only because he turned 70 years, marking a significant chapter in his life, but also because less than a year ago he faced a serious car accident that almost cost him his life. To see him return to good health and celebrating this milestone is a beautiful thing that fills our hearts with gratitude. Most people get those tributes only when they are dead and can’t hear them, but my big brother got his roses while he is alive and strong, surrounded by those who love him most.

    As the patriarch of the family, he is special to us, a guiding light who has always been there in times of need. We truly appreciate his contributions to his family and us, his younger siblings, who look up to him with admiration. He is a man of few words packed with wisdom, a quiet strength that shepherds his flock with firm but loving hands. His presence grounds us, and his guidance helps us navigate life’s challenges. Happy birthday, big brother. We love and appreciate you more than words can express, and we look forward to creating many more beautiful memories together in the years to come.

  • The Grace To Grieve

    trishsthill

    Unfortunately, in life, we all go through some type of grief. But the most painful grief is over the loss of a loved one, and this kind of sorrow often feels like an insurmountable burden that weighs heavily on our hearts and minds. No matter how hard we try, we can never be fully prepared for how to deal with it, as the heartache can strike when we least expect it, often catching us off guard. There is no playbook or guidelines on how to navigate the tumultuous waters of grief or a specific timeframe on when to get over it; it is a deeply personal journey that differs for everyone. We can only leave it to God and time, allowing ourselves to heal at our own pace, even if that means taking one small step forward and several steps back.
    But having a support system around you could be immensely helpful during this difficult time. Having people reach out with a text, a phone call, or a card can go a long way in reminding you that you are not alone in your pain, reinforcing the notion that connection and community can provide solace in moments of despair. Equally important is giving yourself grace to feel sad; it’s a vital part of the healing process that should not be rushed. The important thing is that you try every day to accept the support offered to you and take tiny steps to avoid isolating yourself from those who care, opening up yourself to the love and compassion that surrounds you. Simple gestures like chatting with someone, taking a walk, listening to music, or indulging in a luxurious bath that may help soothe your spirit can be profoundly healing. It’s essential to recognize that with time, the frequency and intensity of the sadness do become more bearable, transitioning from a sharp pang to a more dull ache, which is a sign of healing.

    For those on the supporting end, be conscious of the fact that the person you are supporting may not always seem warm or eager to communicate, and it’s crucial not to take it personally; their emotional state often isn’t a reflection of your care. Let them know, in your words or actions, that you are there anytime they need you, and ensure that you truly mean it with sincerity and patience. If they seem overwhelmed and don’t want to talk or answer the phone, send a gentle text letting them know you are praying for them and that you’re here whenever they need you, reminding them that your support is unwavering. If they appear to be in the mood for companionship, consider taking them out or visiting them with something you know they would enjoy to eat; a small act of kindness can lighten a heavy heart. But remember to let them express themselves and talk about whatever they wish to discuss, permitting the conversation to follow their lead.
    Perhaps they want to share their feelings, recount cherished memories, or even switch topics entirely to politics or the weather—whatever brings them comfort in that moment, let them lead the conversation. Being there, listening, and validating their emotions can significantly contribute to their healing journey, as the act of being present can remind them of the love that surrounds them, even amidst their grief. Sometimes, simply knowing that someone cares enough to sit quietly with them during their pain can be the most profound form of support.

  • WHEN LIFE IMITATES FICTION

    trishsthill

    A month ago, I started my weekly visits to my hometown Bagga, a quaint place teeming with memories and nostalgia. One of the things I always enjoy is swimming and soaking at the local beach, where the salty breeze dances through the air and the sound of waves crashing against the shore creates a relaxing symphony. Since I am in the throes of my writing, my people-watching skills are heightened, providing me with ample inspiration for my stories. I noticed a group of about eight children swimming nearby, slowly making their way towards me, their laughter echoing across the water. They were quite friendly and asked my name while introducing themselves with bright smiles and eager voices. I remember at least three names: Kira, 8; Melissa, 13; and Ziel, 9, each name etched into my memory like a sweet melody. For some reason, Ziel was particularly drawn to me, her curious eyes sparkling with excitement as she inquired about my presence there. I asked about their grandparents, knowing that the parents of children that age were likely born after I left for the US, and it sparked a conversation filled with shared familial stories.

    I soon found out they were all cousins and were related to someone in my family from another side, adding another layer of connection to our interaction. I watched them swim, splash, and playfully dunk each other in a carefree manner, their joy infectious. Before long, they circled around me, holding onto just about every limb they could grasp, and I was swept away in their exuberance. Ziel asked me to dunk her a few times, and I complied after instructing her to close her nostrils before going under, feeling a bond forming between us with every playful moment. In addition to my limbs, one youngster climbed onto my back, and before long, I had become a floating device for them while they played, their gleeful shrieks filling the air.

    Ziel had a special kind of friendliness and familiarity about her, and I was as drawn to her as she was to me, realizing that sometimes connections can form in the most unexpected ways. We chatted while she splashed around, exchanging stories and laughter until it was sadly time for me to leave. I bid the children farewell and made my way home, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that Ziel reminded me of someone I couldn’t quite identify, as if she was a reflection of a cherished memory.

    A week later, I returned to the same beach, hoping to see my little friend once more and experience the warmth of her company again. I spotted a group of six children splashing in the ocean, their joy palpable even from a distance. From my vantage point, I couldn’t see their faces due to the sun in my eyes and their distance, but the energy was unmistakable. Suddenly, they made their way towards me, and there she was—Ziel and her cousins, a vision of exuberance and joy. Again, she chatted with me, her enthusiasm infectious as she held onto me as she floated and splashed around. We talked as she began sharing more about herself and her family, her stories painting vivid pictures of her life, filled with both innocence and wonder.

    I observed all the children, noting how carefree and innocent they were, vibrant spirits unburdened by the weight of the world. I thought this was the happiest time of their lives, and they didn’t even know it, a fleeting moment of bliss that would soon transform as they grew older. I hoped life would be good to them, although they’d likely have to learn about maturity and face life’s challenges—getting an education, finding jobs, starting families, and maybe experiencing heartbreak. I could only hope their triumphs would outweigh their disappointments, and that God would equip them with the tools and strength they needed to weather life’s storms. Eventually, we said our goodbyes, their cheerful waves lingering in my memory as I walked home.

    Almost on cue, I encountered Ziel and her cousins the following week during my next trip to Bagga, their playful giggles echoing like music in the air. They again displayed their usual playful demeanor, and I marveled at their innocent interactions, which reminded me of a simpler time in my own life. There was a two-year-old baby with them, her eyes wide with wonder. “Miss, you could hold she fuh us so we could go swim,” she asked, her voice sweet and coaxing. Being a softie for the elderly and children, I obliged, wanting to be part of their joyful experiences. The baby was as friendly as her older cousins, giggling with joy as we splashed around, her laughter a bright spot on that sunny day. I finally handed her back to the oldest girl, a wave of warmth spreading through me. Ziel and I chatted a bit more, our connection deepening as I reminded them to be careful before heading home, hoping to see their bright smiles again.

    Today, I returned to the beach, anticipation bubbling within me, and saw two children swimming towards me in the shimmering waves. One was Ziel’s cousin Melissa and her eight-year-old brother. “Where is Ziel?” I asked, my heart racing a little. She explained that Ziel lives in a community outside of Bagga proper and usually comes to visit her cousins and go to the beach on Saturdays. Since today was Friday, she wasn’t there, and I felt a pang of disappointment, a small ache of longing for my little friend. I had hoped to see her today, to share another moment of laughter and joy, but I remain hopeful that we will meet again, perhaps in the most unexpected of circumstances.

    I pondered what was drawing me to her; although I didn’t know her well, she felt so familiar, an echo from my past entwined with my present. Then, it struck me—she reminded me of the character Valencia from my second book, Beyond The Mango’s Shade, a vivid creation that had leapt from my imagination onto the pages of my story. Without giving away the storyline, Valencia was a little girl, about Ziel’s age, who befriended the main character in ways that still resonate with me. Just like Ziel was drawn to me, Valencia was drawn to Felicia, creating an unbreakable bond of friendship. There’s such a resemblance between the two girls, their spirits intertwined in an inexplicable way. But Ziel is real, while Valencia is a fictional character that lived in my head 15 years ago, a creation born from inspiration and creativity.

    I hope I get to see my little friend again, and I wish for her to grow up enjoying all the beautiful things life has to offer, unfettered by the complexities that adulthood brings. Usually, I observe someone and use a mannerism or demeanor to create a fictional character, yet here was a real-life person reminding me of a fictional character I created long before she was born, linking my realities with the imagination I hold dear. For some reason, I see this as life imitating fiction; it’s a beautiful symmetry that life presents to us all. We writers are a peculiar lot; we can often see the subtle nuggets of life that most people overlook or ignore, capturing moments in words that might otherwise vanish into thin air. Simply put, our creative side is always in overdrive, tirelessly trying to decipher life’s intricacies and transform them into something tangible, something meaningful that connects with others.