Notes #35 - In Search of a Hero

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Notes From an Amateur Writer #35
IN SEARCH OF A HERO

This Blog series is an exercise in creative writing. Sometimes expressed in short story forms, sometimes as a journal, or just my thoughts written down. This is my attempt to help coalesce my writing ideas and knowledge into usable form. It is a nursery of sorts for the stories that are on their way, or yet to be written.

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The Hero's Journey

I recently read a post from @therealpaul on the hero's journey, in which he translated it well, in my opinion, into a story exploring the theme as it relates to words, expression, and storytelling. A meta post about the post writing journey. If you haven't read it then I highly recommend it. A real story in its own right.

It got me to thinking about the hero's journey, especially as it relates to one's own life. For some reason today, I thought a lot of my Nan. She died about five years ago, but in the last ten years of her life we grew quite close. Yet we never started that way. And what helped us to forge a bond was a common life element we shared – extreme illness.

I never had the chance to get to know my Nan well when I was a child. I remember visiting her and Gramps (I still have my childhood names for them, and I make no apologies for that – they are happy memories). He had the biggest heart I ever knew. He would always make an effort to make sure all his grand children were happy and having a good time. One of his common go to tricks was to deliberately call us by the wrong name. And pretend he had no idea what the problem was. I loved it. He taught me that being laughed with is not the same as being laughed at. Sharing joy makes a difference. I was too young to understand that nuance, or just how much effort he went to making that difference in our lives.

He and Nan were married at the start of the Second World War. After six months of marriage he was shipped off to fight the Japanese, and was parted from his new wife for the next four years. His first son (my father) was born shortly after he left. He never saw him for those first few years. Again I didn't know this at that very young age. And even if I did I'm not sure I could have comprehended the magnitude of that sacrifice. Yet I never saw the man without a smile. A genuine smile.

But he died many years ago. Many years too soon for me to grow and understand, and let him know I see what he did. Reassure him it didn't go unnoticed.

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A New Way of Looking

Nan on the other hand was a more serious person. A good person, but I could never connect. Not as a child. And to add to that, I was constantly told by my own mother about how Nan tried to prevent my parents getting married. Nan never liked my mother, it turns out. That was harsh I always thought. I was just a child, so I believed what I was told.

Now I realise Nan had the perception skills of a god. But it took decades to learn that. Nan had her first stroke when she was thirty-five. She had a second one in her sixties. She was about eighty when I got cancer. That is when we really connected. She was bed ridden and in a nursing home. I visited as often as I could. Probably not often enough.

She believed in Jesus. I didn't. She prayed for me. I accepted her prayers with an open heart. She once told me, after a deep conversation, that I had helped make more sense of things than all the pastors she had ever known. And she had known a few. I wish I could remember what I told her. I could use my own advice sometimes.

I was with her on her final day, although she passed when I wasn't there. But I remember watching her as she was accepting that her time had come. I have never known a more determined woman in my life. Nothing would rock her off of her chosen path. She was not going until she was good and ready. Two strokes, several heart attacks. A life time of medication. She seemed happier at the end than earlier in her life, but that could be my reverse rose coloured glasses at work.

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Were Does It Lead?

Which brings me back to the hero's journey. Mine's not finished, not by a long shot. I get that from my Nan. But I realised that I have developed through the people I have known, as we all do. I tend to focus on those who have contributed a negative influence, but to do so is to disrespect those who have had a positive influence. Like Gramps, and especially Nan. Determination is a good skill to have. A willingness to share joy with others is valuable.

Perhaps part of the hero's journey is the ability to incorporate the positive attributes and strengths of those who have shared themselves with us into who we are. To make that a cherished and vital part of what makes us tick. And in a way, by doing so, we continue their journey for them also.

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All images used with permission, and sourced from Unsplash.com.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. If you liked it then please like, comment, and follow

@naquoya

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Short Fiction:

Bang Bang You're Dead
I Have No Name and I Must Scream
The Last Book Store
The Judge
The Man In The Mirror
The End of the World [Part 1] [Part 2]
The Locked Room
The Gods of Love and War [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]
Blasphemous
Jonathan and the Dance of the Leaves

Songlines - Short stories inspired by songs.

When the Levee Breaks
Crossroads
Heart's a Mess
It's So Easy