Tara, I've followed your work and writing for a bit now. Every time I hear you on a recording or read any words in reference to this, I cry. Today before I work I sat at my kitchen table and just wept reading this. I don't know if it brings you any comfort to know that a human you'll probably never meet said a prayer for your family today and many times in the past, but I'm sending your family my love.
I knew, I knew, I knew I'd burst into tears if you shared it - and you did. It's perfect. And he knew. You found him and he knew the grief and the love of a daughter and he channeled it into the stone. And there she strides......forevermore. Love to you all xxx
I feel like you invited us into a grieving ritual, as I too wept abundantly this morning while reading your tragic, crushing and profoundly beautiful account of what you and your family are going through. Of course, there are no words really to show support, especially coming from strangers. But, in your story this morning, and through our resonance together, here, in this space you created, the individual meets the universal, and we are many to have wept for you, with you, tiny little drops accompanying you, in your boundless ocean of sadness and openess and love. ❤
Thank you for your beautiful words, Sophie. And thank you for joining me here. The illusion of separateness only holds if we keep reinforcing the scaffolding of division. I'm not willing to do that anymore. Just as I am not the source of anything, only an observer and a scribe. Thank you for joining me. xo
"When someone you love very much dies, the sky falls. And so you walk around under a fallen sky" - Mirabai Starr
You may not be special in your suffering but you are certainly special in how you are letting it shape you. You are, you just are. It is simply profound, I don't have the words. Mirabai Starr (she lost her 14 yr. old daughter) also says this, "My willingness to stay present through this process was an act of devotion. By leaning into the horror and yielding to the sorrow, by standing in the fire of emptiness and saying yes to the mystery, I was honoring my child and expressing my ongoing love for her. It was not mere mindfulness practice; it was heartfulness practice."
You are leading the way for all of us, as this pain and suffering is inevitable. and I will do my best to "delight in whatever sunlight remains."
Dear, dear Rachel. What a beautiful quote to share with me. Yes, that's exactly so, "my willingness to stay present through the process was an act of devotion". When our daughter first died, we were in shock, hardly even comprehending the next blink of an eye. But I remember, Troy and I making the declaration that no matter what, we would not be dulled by distraction. We would not start drinking alcohol to blunt the pain. We would not fill our lives with tasks and busy-ness to run from the truth. We would not hide the raw anguish we felt from each other. I'm very proud that we did that and that we stuck to it. I don't know how or where that came from, but it has meant a deepening of ourselves and our relationship in ways that allow us to now be present to life in a profound way.
One learns that endless, unbearable pain is bearable because the filaments of beauty that waft in are so much more saturated. Even a crumb of such love sustains in ways that the protected heart can never be touched by.
This is so profound. So moving. And so very wholly felt. The cruelty in the loss of your daughter, the depth of the love you have for her, the tenderness with which you approached this weighty memento... your words fill the hearts of those of us that have suffered similar loss, and yet at the same time are beautifully specific to your one unique child and her journey on this earth. Thank you for your vulnerability in sharing. It is more impactful than you may ever realize.
She has spurred a continuum of connection, hasn't she? She is in my heart today.
Tara, Thank you for sharing this! You speak so pure & honestly. It is absolutely beautiful.
I recently came to your page after my husband and I listened to your interview with Justin Rhodes - (so good)
We also realized you live so close to us. We are located in small town near Madoc Ontario. About 20 mins North of Belleville. We really were starting to believe there are no like minded people who existed here. And therefore get all our motivation from Justin & his crew. Until now :)
My personal health journey has taken us on quite the journey since 2013 when I was diagnosed with MS. Now we have landed in a world of re learning & unlearning. And in the depth of our sadness and in a way grieving the life we knew before .. we have been giving the blessing of homesteading. And thank God for that.
I am now subscribed & look very much forward to your raw words of wisdom - your education & hopefully even someday soon a meet up!
Praying for continued healing for your and your family.
Dear Holly and Ernie, thank you for taking the time to write to me. I'm happy to hear you are finding that reconnection to what so many of us seem to be understanding as a dysfunction in the world we have created. We have friends in Madoc. That's a nice area with so much potential. xo
With a lump in my throat, and tears in my eyes, I need to just reach out to you and tell you that you are so brave to have shared this most intimate post. It’s so sad, yet so beautiful. Last year, my 23 year old son came home from a hospital visit to tell us he had testicular cancer. I remember the horror rearing up inside me even as he said it’s quite curable. I have only seen a tiny crack in the door leading to the other side, but it was enough. Please know your words deeply touched me.
Thank you, Petra. It does hurt to write and share, but I also feel like there are things beyond ourselves. I know the story comes from me, but not really. I once lived on the other side, too, certain that my fear of anything so tragic would guard me from it ever coming to fruition. And yet, here I am so what is there to do but surrender and be present to what comes? I am so glad your son is okay. Much love to you.
I still feel chills from reading your exquisitely beautiful post. I know how hard it must be to say, "They installed our daughter's headstone last weekend." In the summer of 2018 we lost our 32-year-old son. He just didn't wake up one morning. I still have a hard time using the word "died" next to his name. It will never seem real to me. It soothed me some to hear the words of long-time Los Angeles Dodgers manager Tommy Lasorda who, after losing his 32-year-old son, said, "Every time I think about my son, I just get very, very sad. But you know something? If God said he would give me a son and then take him away after 32 years, I would say, 'I'll take him! I'm glad for the time we had together.'" There is so much sunshine left. My heart knows your grief and goes out to you.
So much love to you, Candy. I don't understand life's design, but I do have faith in reason and order and that brings me some drips of comfort. Like everything, and like you know, in every feeling we can now carry another. There are no black and whites in this world, just shades of grey. Joy comes with sadness. Loneliness travels with crowds. It's all things. What a mystery this all is. xo
Today, I sat in the sunlight and read this while I held my three children, sleepy in the early morning light, and wept. My heart goes out to you. Today, I will move a little slower and tenderly with my children and spend all the time we can delighting in the sunlight.
Tara, your ability to express the rawness, the intricacies, the delicacies of the heart & soul and your ability to encapsulate just what I didn't know I was even thinking (eg. the mechanism of stone carving) is what brings me back to you every time. ❤️ Thank you for sharing yourSelf with us. It is a gift to each person who absorbs your message. Sending big love to you & yours.
It brought me to tears and I rarely do so… love to you and your family.
I also did not want machine cut, polished and etched. Local woodmaster crafted the figure and my fathers name I cut myself on plate with jewelers saw. But this was as it should be… cant immagine the mom&dad sorrow…
Good evening...for a long time I have been gleaning wonderful information, so generously and wisely shared by you. Oftentimes I wish I lived with a capable man, on the land...working hard together, the way you do. There was a time where I paused checking the email account where I receive your essays, so I spent an evening catching up. It was then that I learned you had lost a precious daughter and I cried. For real...as if it were news of someone I knew. Because of the vulnerable state that your writing reveals, it feels like I know you. It is unusual for me to write to someone, on social media, other than a comment or two, but I feel compelled to share with you that this essay deeply touched my heart, as well as offered hope. Having a headstone installed for a child's grave is not a task any parent wants to have to check off in life. It's one of many tasks and or decisions to be made after the death of a loved one, but having to make it as a grieving mom is ......I can't find the right word. If it is selfish of me to share my story, I apologize in advance. I guess I just want to reach across the interwebs and let you know that I hurt for you and your family...can relate to the machinery of all the systems and not wanting to accept the status quo for such an enormous and important and lasting decision. My 24 year old son is buried in a family plot where my parents are buried. It took 3 years for me to be able to bury his ashes. Now his grave remains unmarked, as I can't bring myself to order something out of a catalogue. It would be a blessing if my 3 grown children would provide ideas and we DIY a marker suitable for our one who is missing. I haven't asked them...it feels too much. Yet the idea of him lying under plain ol dirt doesn't sit well either, although he wouldn't mind. He loved dirt. The stone carver was a perfect idea. I am surrounded by artisans so may look into an alternative creation. Weird of me to share all this with a woman I've never met, yet admire and respect...on her public domain, no doubt. I pray for you to continue to experience that peace that surpasses all understanding. Sincerely and with love...Lois M
Dear Lois, I am so sorry to hear that your son has died. I wish I could just give you a big hug and sit with you and have you tell me all about him. I think resting a body beneath the earth is beautiful and who's to say what has to happen next? I love your idea about contacting an artisan in your area. Thank you for your kindness and your compassion. Sending you my prayers and love.
well said. I too, lost a daughter, an infant daughter. I can only share a mere drop of the grief you carry. I carry the grief with you, I will hold some of the load if it becomes too heavy.
I too, still have 2 grown daughters, wild and strong and bold.
I am so grateful that you found a real stone carver. It is something I think about. I am grateful he extended his heart and his art to you. May your heart be filled with delight and your soul clap its hands and sing.
I'm so sorry you lost your daughter and I am so buoyed to hear of your wild and strong and bold daughters. All and everything, together. Thank you for your kind words.
I love you and I’m sending my love to you from afar. Weeping and also basking in gratitude for the gifts you share, even in your heartache. The musings and lessons you share with us of what it means to know our pains and losses; how knowing these is to know the opposite as well - truly experiencing joy and life. The wisdom, the grief, the gratitude and memory, the depth of your love and hers…..all of it.
This feels almost perverse to say Tara, but her headstone is beautiful. I'm sorry I have to attribute beauty to something so openly raw and painful. From one mother to another, I continually send my love and prayers to your family.
Tara, I've followed your work and writing for a bit now. Every time I hear you on a recording or read any words in reference to this, I cry. Today before I work I sat at my kitchen table and just wept reading this. I don't know if it brings you any comfort to know that a human you'll probably never meet said a prayer for your family today and many times in the past, but I'm sending your family my love.
Dear Laura, it brings me all the comfort in all of the world. Yes, absolutely. Thank you.
I knew, I knew, I knew I'd burst into tears if you shared it - and you did. It's perfect. And he knew. You found him and he knew the grief and the love of a daughter and he channeled it into the stone. And there she strides......forevermore. Love to you all xxx
Monique’s words express my feelings perfectly. God bless you and yours Tara.
Thank you, Guy.
Love you, Monique.
I feel like you invited us into a grieving ritual, as I too wept abundantly this morning while reading your tragic, crushing and profoundly beautiful account of what you and your family are going through. Of course, there are no words really to show support, especially coming from strangers. But, in your story this morning, and through our resonance together, here, in this space you created, the individual meets the universal, and we are many to have wept for you, with you, tiny little drops accompanying you, in your boundless ocean of sadness and openess and love. ❤
Thank you for your beautiful words, Sophie. And thank you for joining me here. The illusion of separateness only holds if we keep reinforcing the scaffolding of division. I'm not willing to do that anymore. Just as I am not the source of anything, only an observer and a scribe. Thank you for joining me. xo
❤❤❤
"When someone you love very much dies, the sky falls. And so you walk around under a fallen sky" - Mirabai Starr
You may not be special in your suffering but you are certainly special in how you are letting it shape you. You are, you just are. It is simply profound, I don't have the words. Mirabai Starr (she lost her 14 yr. old daughter) also says this, "My willingness to stay present through this process was an act of devotion. By leaning into the horror and yielding to the sorrow, by standing in the fire of emptiness and saying yes to the mystery, I was honoring my child and expressing my ongoing love for her. It was not mere mindfulness practice; it was heartfulness practice."
You are leading the way for all of us, as this pain and suffering is inevitable. and I will do my best to "delight in whatever sunlight remains."
A million hugs to you and your family.
Dear, dear Rachel. What a beautiful quote to share with me. Yes, that's exactly so, "my willingness to stay present through the process was an act of devotion". When our daughter first died, we were in shock, hardly even comprehending the next blink of an eye. But I remember, Troy and I making the declaration that no matter what, we would not be dulled by distraction. We would not start drinking alcohol to blunt the pain. We would not fill our lives with tasks and busy-ness to run from the truth. We would not hide the raw anguish we felt from each other. I'm very proud that we did that and that we stuck to it. I don't know how or where that came from, but it has meant a deepening of ourselves and our relationship in ways that allow us to now be present to life in a profound way.
One learns that endless, unbearable pain is bearable because the filaments of beauty that waft in are so much more saturated. Even a crumb of such love sustains in ways that the protected heart can never be touched by.
XXX
This is so profound. So moving. And so very wholly felt. The cruelty in the loss of your daughter, the depth of the love you have for her, the tenderness with which you approached this weighty memento... your words fill the hearts of those of us that have suffered similar loss, and yet at the same time are beautifully specific to your one unique child and her journey on this earth. Thank you for your vulnerability in sharing. It is more impactful than you may ever realize.
She has spurred a continuum of connection, hasn't she? She is in my heart today.
Thank you so much for your kindness and your beautiful comment. Thank you for keeping her in your heart for a time. That is so meaningful to me.
Tara, Thank you for sharing this! You speak so pure & honestly. It is absolutely beautiful.
I recently came to your page after my husband and I listened to your interview with Justin Rhodes - (so good)
We also realized you live so close to us. We are located in small town near Madoc Ontario. About 20 mins North of Belleville. We really were starting to believe there are no like minded people who existed here. And therefore get all our motivation from Justin & his crew. Until now :)
My personal health journey has taken us on quite the journey since 2013 when I was diagnosed with MS. Now we have landed in a world of re learning & unlearning. And in the depth of our sadness and in a way grieving the life we knew before .. we have been giving the blessing of homesteading. And thank God for that.
I am now subscribed & look very much forward to your raw words of wisdom - your education & hopefully even someday soon a meet up!
Praying for continued healing for your and your family.
Holly & Ernie
Dear Holly and Ernie, thank you for taking the time to write to me. I'm happy to hear you are finding that reconnection to what so many of us seem to be understanding as a dysfunction in the world we have created. We have friends in Madoc. That's a nice area with so much potential. xo
With a lump in my throat, and tears in my eyes, I need to just reach out to you and tell you that you are so brave to have shared this most intimate post. It’s so sad, yet so beautiful. Last year, my 23 year old son came home from a hospital visit to tell us he had testicular cancer. I remember the horror rearing up inside me even as he said it’s quite curable. I have only seen a tiny crack in the door leading to the other side, but it was enough. Please know your words deeply touched me.
Thank you, Petra. It does hurt to write and share, but I also feel like there are things beyond ourselves. I know the story comes from me, but not really. I once lived on the other side, too, certain that my fear of anything so tragic would guard me from it ever coming to fruition. And yet, here I am so what is there to do but surrender and be present to what comes? I am so glad your son is okay. Much love to you.
Wept. I felt every word.
Thank you, Diana.
I still feel chills from reading your exquisitely beautiful post. I know how hard it must be to say, "They installed our daughter's headstone last weekend." In the summer of 2018 we lost our 32-year-old son. He just didn't wake up one morning. I still have a hard time using the word "died" next to his name. It will never seem real to me. It soothed me some to hear the words of long-time Los Angeles Dodgers manager Tommy Lasorda who, after losing his 32-year-old son, said, "Every time I think about my son, I just get very, very sad. But you know something? If God said he would give me a son and then take him away after 32 years, I would say, 'I'll take him! I'm glad for the time we had together.'" There is so much sunshine left. My heart knows your grief and goes out to you.
So much love to you, Candy. I don't understand life's design, but I do have faith in reason and order and that brings me some drips of comfort. Like everything, and like you know, in every feeling we can now carry another. There are no black and whites in this world, just shades of grey. Joy comes with sadness. Loneliness travels with crowds. It's all things. What a mystery this all is. xo
Today, I sat in the sunlight and read this while I held my three children, sleepy in the early morning light, and wept. My heart goes out to you. Today, I will move a little slower and tenderly with my children and spend all the time we can delighting in the sunlight.
Beautiful, thank you, Raine.
Tara, your ability to express the rawness, the intricacies, the delicacies of the heart & soul and your ability to encapsulate just what I didn't know I was even thinking (eg. the mechanism of stone carving) is what brings me back to you every time. ❤️ Thank you for sharing yourSelf with us. It is a gift to each person who absorbs your message. Sending big love to you & yours.
Thank you for finding that in my words, Renee. And thank you for your generous kindness.
It brought me to tears and I rarely do so… love to you and your family.
I also did not want machine cut, polished and etched. Local woodmaster crafted the figure and my fathers name I cut myself on plate with jewelers saw. But this was as it should be… cant immagine the mom&dad sorrow…
Thank you, Modesta.
Good evening...for a long time I have been gleaning wonderful information, so generously and wisely shared by you. Oftentimes I wish I lived with a capable man, on the land...working hard together, the way you do. There was a time where I paused checking the email account where I receive your essays, so I spent an evening catching up. It was then that I learned you had lost a precious daughter and I cried. For real...as if it were news of someone I knew. Because of the vulnerable state that your writing reveals, it feels like I know you. It is unusual for me to write to someone, on social media, other than a comment or two, but I feel compelled to share with you that this essay deeply touched my heart, as well as offered hope. Having a headstone installed for a child's grave is not a task any parent wants to have to check off in life. It's one of many tasks and or decisions to be made after the death of a loved one, but having to make it as a grieving mom is ......I can't find the right word. If it is selfish of me to share my story, I apologize in advance. I guess I just want to reach across the interwebs and let you know that I hurt for you and your family...can relate to the machinery of all the systems and not wanting to accept the status quo for such an enormous and important and lasting decision. My 24 year old son is buried in a family plot where my parents are buried. It took 3 years for me to be able to bury his ashes. Now his grave remains unmarked, as I can't bring myself to order something out of a catalogue. It would be a blessing if my 3 grown children would provide ideas and we DIY a marker suitable for our one who is missing. I haven't asked them...it feels too much. Yet the idea of him lying under plain ol dirt doesn't sit well either, although he wouldn't mind. He loved dirt. The stone carver was a perfect idea. I am surrounded by artisans so may look into an alternative creation. Weird of me to share all this with a woman I've never met, yet admire and respect...on her public domain, no doubt. I pray for you to continue to experience that peace that surpasses all understanding. Sincerely and with love...Lois M
Dear Lois, I am so sorry to hear that your son has died. I wish I could just give you a big hug and sit with you and have you tell me all about him. I think resting a body beneath the earth is beautiful and who's to say what has to happen next? I love your idea about contacting an artisan in your area. Thank you for your kindness and your compassion. Sending you my prayers and love.
well said. I too, lost a daughter, an infant daughter. I can only share a mere drop of the grief you carry. I carry the grief with you, I will hold some of the load if it becomes too heavy.
I too, still have 2 grown daughters, wild and strong and bold.
I am so grateful that you found a real stone carver. It is something I think about. I am grateful he extended his heart and his art to you. May your heart be filled with delight and your soul clap its hands and sing.
I'm so sorry you lost your daughter and I am so buoyed to hear of your wild and strong and bold daughters. All and everything, together. Thank you for your kind words.
I love you and I’m sending my love to you from afar. Weeping and also basking in gratitude for the gifts you share, even in your heartache. The musings and lessons you share with us of what it means to know our pains and losses; how knowing these is to know the opposite as well - truly experiencing joy and life. The wisdom, the grief, the gratitude and memory, the depth of your love and hers…..all of it.
Thank you for your beautiful words and heart, Ashley.
“Delight in whatever sunlight remains.” Knowing loss and knowing life.
This feels almost perverse to say Tara, but her headstone is beautiful. I'm sorry I have to attribute beauty to something so openly raw and painful. From one mother to another, I continually send my love and prayers to your family.
Thank you so much, Amanda.