Your word today goes deep into the roots of your soul and your 40 acres of family love and lore.
Each word an expression of the gifts you have received and have become. Blessings for you during this mournful time. Your legacy is beautiful. Thank you.
Your deeply honest insights and feelings help everyone on the quest for perfect prayers. Thank you for describing the dumb audacity of wild weeds thriving in neglected gardens during emotional devastation. I've experienced similar stress and, belatedly pulling up renegade roots to wither under harsh sunlight in the path not bed, unexpectedly discovered reclusive earthworms.
You said "I will never hear her voice again, will never see her smile light up every room she walked in. That I no longer have parents in this world".... but OH YES, you do. There is not a second goes by in my day (lost my mother 10 years ago) that her voice is in my head with a saying, a recipe, a song or something that reminds me of her. In fact, sometimes I think she dwells in me more that she is gone than when she was alive.
And yes, busyness will carry you through a tragedy. I too, had to sift through all of my parents' belongings. I kept special items and have found a way of repurposing a lot of them. For example, my mom had numerous doilies (they were a thing for tables and sofas in the 50s & 60s). I made a Native American "dream catcher" out of them. I miss my mother and father but find they walk with me every day. I am grateful I had such wonderful human beings to watch over me for all those years. You will find a way to honor them and yourself. Peace and love to you Miss Christy.
This is so beautiful, Ana! 💞 Thank you for thi reminder/perspective-- the hopeful reminder that I carry her within me and also the idea of repurposing some of those special things.
Oh, Christy, so many similarities to the experiences I have had, and continue to have. They say "grief is a journey". It is, but I have discovered it is a journey that does not end in this life. It becomes an integral part of your makeup. Perhaps, that is a good thing, for as you journey those steps, your senses can become more acute; pain can be a gut punch, but joy a vivid gift as well. I sense. you are emotionally mature enough to know you must be gentle and patient with yourself.
What an honest and beautiful writing of your experiences. Holding space for grief while needing to attend to life is a huge challenge. You have permission! I hope many grieving folks read this piece.
Yes, grief has its own timetable. Yes, give yourself permission to cry. Allow yourself space and time to grieve. Be gentle with yourself and breathe. I agree with Leah that you wrote your way to the wisdom you knew within. Before you got there, you were piling upon yourself all the pressures of daily living while what your entire body is going through is outside the parameters of daily living. It’s a one time event. You will never walk your mother through death again. You will never again watch her body laid to rest in burial. This is not a “normal” time, and it’s important that you attend to this time while it’s here, hard and gut wrenching as that may be. Somehow… I don’t know how…the other things will get done or won’t get done or will get done differently. But it will all make itself known. That is certain.
Your words are beautiful and wise. And such a good reminder that the passing of my mother is a one time event. I should expect my word to be shaken up a bit. Thank you! 🙏🏼💞
"Perhaps what I need right now is not more productivity. Perhaps what I need is permission to cry. Permission to move slowly for just a bit." So much yes to all of this. Hope you give yourself all that permission every day for as long as is right for you.
The last two paragraphs say exactly what you need to do: to take the permission you have and to enter a period of serenity. Slow down on the path, and take a deep breath.
I lost my last parent, my Dad, in December 1999. I knew it was coming. He knew. He had done all he could to prepare me. I was with him, but he lived in Colorado and me in Missouri with a full time job. All of the busyness kept me going until the weirdest moment in September. His Denver Broncos were playing the St Louis Rams on TV. We would have been on the phone giving each other football jabs. Instead I found myself just sobbing because we couldn't do that. 25 plus years later and it still hits me at strange times.
Thank you for sharing that, Linda. My dad passed four years ago and I've had a similar experience over the years- feeling his absence in certain moments can suddenly just break me. 💞
A long time ago, a member of one of the churches I served, a mother who had lost three of her five children to cystic fibrosis, once told me: grief is something you must go through. You can’t go around it or underneath it… Short time or long, you just have to go through it.” I was thinking of her as I read your wise and vulnerable words.
All of life continues around you, but you are in a different world, the world of grief. Could I have done more? Just a big emptiness surrounding you. Peace, strength to you
I have experienced grief as very incremental, to be embraced and just let happen. You are on a sacred path.
…and tears are antifreeze for the soul.
Ooohhh... I love that. 🙏🏼
Truly. Thank you. 💞
Your word today goes deep into the roots of your soul and your 40 acres of family love and lore.
Each word an expression of the gifts you have received and have become. Blessings for you during this mournful time. Your legacy is beautiful. Thank you.
😭 Thank you for these beautiful words, Lorraine. 🙏🏼🩷
I think you just wrote your way to the wisdom you knew within.
Exactly what I was thinking…
I’ve noticed that we are commenting on some of the same posts too. 😊
I've found that there are several/many of us who gravitate to the same Substack authors. I believe there's a good reason for that. 😊
I love that you're both here, bringing all your wisdom to the Wheat & Willow community. I'm so grateful for you both! 🙏🏼💞
😭🙏🏼
Your deeply honest insights and feelings help everyone on the quest for perfect prayers. Thank you for describing the dumb audacity of wild weeds thriving in neglected gardens during emotional devastation. I've experienced similar stress and, belatedly pulling up renegade roots to wither under harsh sunlight in the path not bed, unexpectedly discovered reclusive earthworms.
Beautifully said. Thanks for these words. 🙏🏼
You said "I will never hear her voice again, will never see her smile light up every room she walked in. That I no longer have parents in this world".... but OH YES, you do. There is not a second goes by in my day (lost my mother 10 years ago) that her voice is in my head with a saying, a recipe, a song or something that reminds me of her. In fact, sometimes I think she dwells in me more that she is gone than when she was alive.
And yes, busyness will carry you through a tragedy. I too, had to sift through all of my parents' belongings. I kept special items and have found a way of repurposing a lot of them. For example, my mom had numerous doilies (they were a thing for tables and sofas in the 50s & 60s). I made a Native American "dream catcher" out of them. I miss my mother and father but find they walk with me every day. I am grateful I had such wonderful human beings to watch over me for all those years. You will find a way to honor them and yourself. Peace and love to you Miss Christy.
This is so beautiful, Ana! 💞 Thank you for thi reminder/perspective-- the hopeful reminder that I carry her within me and also the idea of repurposing some of those special things.
Oh, Christy, so many similarities to the experiences I have had, and continue to have. They say "grief is a journey". It is, but I have discovered it is a journey that does not end in this life. It becomes an integral part of your makeup. Perhaps, that is a good thing, for as you journey those steps, your senses can become more acute; pain can be a gut punch, but joy a vivid gift as well. I sense. you are emotionally mature enough to know you must be gentle and patient with yourself.
That's beautiful. Thank you! 🙏🏼
A wise woman once wrote:”grief has its own timetable.” Listen to her. She, and all who love her, offer her permission. She’ll find her way. ❤️🙏
😊💞🙏🏼
What an honest and beautiful writing of your experiences. Holding space for grief while needing to attend to life is a huge challenge. You have permission! I hope many grieving folks read this piece.
🙏🏼
Yes, grief has its own timetable. Yes, give yourself permission to cry. Allow yourself space and time to grieve. Be gentle with yourself and breathe. I agree with Leah that you wrote your way to the wisdom you knew within. Before you got there, you were piling upon yourself all the pressures of daily living while what your entire body is going through is outside the parameters of daily living. It’s a one time event. You will never walk your mother through death again. You will never again watch her body laid to rest in burial. This is not a “normal” time, and it’s important that you attend to this time while it’s here, hard and gut wrenching as that may be. Somehow… I don’t know how…the other things will get done or won’t get done or will get done differently. But it will all make itself known. That is certain.
Your words are beautiful and wise. And such a good reminder that the passing of my mother is a one time event. I should expect my word to be shaken up a bit. Thank you! 🙏🏼💞
Blessings as you navigate this ending which is also a new beginning.
Thank you. 😭🙏🏼
"Perhaps what I need right now is not more productivity. Perhaps what I need is permission to cry. Permission to move slowly for just a bit." So much yes to all of this. Hope you give yourself all that permission every day for as long as is right for you.
🙏🏼 Thank you, Liz. 🩷
The last two paragraphs say exactly what you need to do: to take the permission you have and to enter a period of serenity. Slow down on the path, and take a deep breath.
Breathing. Yes. 🙏🏼
Thank you for sharing this. This reflection gives me encouragement and grace and permission.
🙏🏼
I lost my last parent, my Dad, in December 1999. I knew it was coming. He knew. He had done all he could to prepare me. I was with him, but he lived in Colorado and me in Missouri with a full time job. All of the busyness kept me going until the weirdest moment in September. His Denver Broncos were playing the St Louis Rams on TV. We would have been on the phone giving each other football jabs. Instead I found myself just sobbing because we couldn't do that. 25 plus years later and it still hits me at strange times.
Holding you in love and light.
Thank you for sharing that, Linda. My dad passed four years ago and I've had a similar experience over the years- feeling his absence in certain moments can suddenly just break me. 💞
A long time ago, a member of one of the churches I served, a mother who had lost three of her five children to cystic fibrosis, once told me: grief is something you must go through. You can’t go around it or underneath it… Short time or long, you just have to go through it.” I was thinking of her as I read your wise and vulnerable words.
🙏🏼🩷🙏🏼
All of life continues around you, but you are in a different world, the world of grief. Could I have done more? Just a big emptiness surrounding you. Peace, strength to you
Thank you, Allen. 🙏🏼