When I was in college, I, for the first time ever, talked to a counselor about some issues I was having in school and life in general. I felt debilitatingly unmotivated and anxious all the time. During the session we discussed a few short stories I wrote. And as I was describing their respective plots, I came to the realization that since the passing of my grandma and my great grandma, I was writing non-stop about death.

I still write about death a lot–it’s a combination of processing my grief and just being a horror fan in general. Be it fiction, poetry, non-fiction, journaling, writing can be a tool for healing. Without writing, I’m not sure how I would’ve gotten through that rough period in my life. While I’m rarely intentional with exploring my grief and incorporating my experiences with it in my writing, I always find it interesting to reflect on how they’ve manifested themselves in my stories.

In the process of that reflection, I may discover a feeling toward the deceased I wasn’t fully aware of before–an emotion that’s been buried deep inside or hidden in plane sight. And I feel I’m all the better for it.

Here are some questions I’ve come up with that may help you explore your grief and maybe get a better understanding of how it has shown up in your writing:

• How would you describe the person in your life that’s passed–their appearance or personality?
• What kind of force were they in your life?
• How did they pass away?
• What was your last interaction with them? Is there anything in that interaction that you would change and, if so, why?
• Where were you when you found out about their passing?
• What emotions were you experiencing during that time and how did they evolve over time?
• How did those emotions manifest physically?
• How did the passing of this person affect your relationship with those around you?
• How often do you think of this person?
• What memories come to mind when you think of them?
• Describe the physical space you most commonly associate with them. How has that space transformed with their absence?

I don’t necessarily turn to these questions when I’m writing about death. But somehow, the experiences they make me think through tend to come to life in my stories, and it’s helpful and healing for me to recognize that.

The grief still comes in waves. Each one crashing a shore when a passing memory drifts across my mind, trigged by something that reminds me of loved ones who have passed away–a stranger helping pull my truck out of a ditch, the smell of cigarettes, the scent of freshly made tortillas de harina, the dawning of the Halloween season.

I owe my love for writing to my family. To all those who have passed. They’ve inspired my creativity, my passion, and my love for storytelling. I owe where I am today to all to them.