I feel every letter of every word. You have described right down to the heartbeat, how I feel since Jake made the decision to leave his body as it no longer served him here. He is no longer contained. His energy and being are freed. He is now the light and energy that surrounds us.
And how right you are. There is no difference. Amongst the sadness, the worry, the wondering...all that remains is love. Some days it easy to feel and all else falls away, allowing it to wash over me. Some days it feels like the weight of a boulder pressing the breath from my chest and my agony is overwhelming. But it is love nonetheless. And intertwined into it all are the memories. The ones where I think "oh, Jake would have loved this meal I made" or "Jake loved being outside, he'd have loved being here on the lake with us". In those moments I almost, just almost forget that he is gone.
And it is also in those moments that I know he is so very near. Hearing my every thought, feeling every bit of love flowing from the tears falling down my face.
He is the breeze. He is the songs of the birds. He is the sunshine through the clouds.
Thank you Tara...for helping me to see through your eyes, that love remains.
Much love always to you and your family. I will always hold space for you in my heart. 💛
Thank you, Jeanie, for sharing such beautiful vulnerability with us all. Love from a mama to her beautiful son with such depth that its only with awe and tremendous love to a stranger that we can all share in it, even for a moment. That's what this is all about, isn't it? All of this jumbling, tumbling of life? To be in it and bear witness to those around us? To meet it all with compassion? Jake. Jake. Jake. I will add Jake, again, to the little songs I sing along with the birds in the forest this beautiful, sunny morning. And I will hold you in my heart with love.
I know. There's really nothing to say. Sometimes hugs are better than words. But I hope in the sharing, I might be more of what I want to see in this world - vulnerable, honest, and love drenched. ❤️
Your words dove straight through the surface- into the deepest crevices of my heart. They played on the “nerves” of my soul in ways a song both freeing and beautiful and dark all at once. My “before” is April 22, 2016 and my after began like a jolt the next day as I learned of my beloved Mommy’s sudden and unexpected departure from her body. I was growing new life inside of me as my 4th baby was born 5 days after her funeral. I too have searched and continue ever and always to search for her- to feel her, to listen for her. She sends me beautiful words and healing, cathartic tears. She sends me love, love and more love when I am scared and doubting. The words that I most turn to are these, which she somehow communicated to me in a moment of deep pain, sorry, drowning tears and heaves that left me sore. As I was seeing beautiful memories and moments flashing over in my mind and feeling the utter panic and hopelessness that comes with the belief that there will be no more of those beautiful memories she told me this “It’s all real Mattie-your heart knows that. Love is ALIVE and it lives FOREVER.” I have found surrender to be the only path to a state of healing. I wish that my words could adequately convey to you the profound manner in which your words, your sharing of your heart, your real, raw, beautiful wisdom has impacted me this morning. Thank you for being brave enough to share it.
What a beautiful heart you have, Mattie. Isn't it extraordinary that when we are still with our grief, the messages, if we are open, come with such reassurance. "It's all real Mattie - your heart knows that. Love is ALIVE and it lives FOREVER." Yes. I have received similar messages. My memories are such warmth to me and I will dream of them always, but I recognize that my daughter lives on and it's not in memories, it's in the very real and the very present and that is teaching me to be there, too. That's where I find her.
Thank you for your beautiful compliment. There's nothing more profound for me than to offer a little drop of something I've been given in hopes that it brings some love or peace to another. All gifts need to be shared and I'm just hoping to pass it along. ❤️
I am completely blown away by this. Your wisdom and transparency and way of giving us a glimpse of your incredible interior world. Thank you thank you thank you - this is such a gift. I’m seeping out tears for you all, happy sad it’s just all such a gift all the love
Thank you for receiving it that way, Jennifer. I am learning. Trying to learn. Trying to be present to the pain that brings messages on its thorns. It's so hard to untangle and, I think, to read sometimes. I am grateful when it's received in such a generous way. Thank you.❤️
It is so important to let grief have its way. It is so important to move through that tunnel—which will last forever in many ways. It isn’t as if the grief will ever disappear over time; it just can become less heavy. Eventually, over years and years, the ripples from the death of a beloved will travel, will reach out into time in unexpected ways, so that you can see more of the impact of the loss, the death. Paper and pen, with this post, served you well I think. It is allowing your raw grief a needed road to travel. Courage—and I know from your posts here that you have lots of that. I didn’t realize this loss was so new—just a year. I lost a beloved niece and godchild about 20 years ago now. She was 28. She left a baby who is now grown and headed to graduate school. The remaining three sisters are incredibly close and live near each other. The hole of the loss of this young woman has produced firm weldings that now overlay the loss and provide comfort and safety and connection that spreads pretty wide now. Still, her loss is always there.
Thank you for your beautiful words, Louisa. So very true. I think a lot of people think grief is something to get through or avoided. I think we need to just let it do what it must, to be present and feel what comes. I read somewhere that the gift of grief (which sounds a tad absurd) is learning to allow healing to become the way one lives life. Not that I will ever be "healed", but that to live each day with the intention of living a healing life. It requires presence and humility to take on life this way. I'm learning, I'm learning. ❤️❤️
Years ago my nieces body came into this world but her spirit decided to stay where it was. We found ourselves standing in that sterile room giving comfort to my sister-in-law as the nurse asked if she wanted to hold her. And there she was, perfectly formed and wonderful but life was not there. We took turns holding her and saying goodbye. It was a season of death and life and death again for our family. So many coming and going, playing tug of war with our emotions. My Dad was standing with me at yet another goodbye and he said, "Have you noticed that at every funeral, somewhere in the family is a new one that has arrived? It is the way of things and one day it will be our turn but I am pretty thankful for the time I have had and for the new ones that I get to watch grow."
Goodbyes leave us empty and raw and it becomes a layer of dark colors on our life's canvas. But we know that soon life and growth and even joy return; not to cover the dark colors, but to add a new layer and a different colors on the canvas. When our painting is complete, all the colors laid down, hopefully those who stand viewing it, will see it all as love.
Dear Bonnie, thank you for your beautiful message. I am sorry that your niece's precious little life was so very short. I often wonder at the mystery of life, of death, of the order in this world that we see when it agrees with us but toss out when it doesn't. Sending you love.❤️
And still… life comes again, as your new grandchild grows and becomes a part of the world, of your world, life finding its way, as always, just as spring follows winter and our hearts know that we will leave too someday, and leave behind our love for people, places, sunrises, the sound of the swans’ seasonal return… thank you for reminding me today of how fleeting we all really are… AND of course I went and checked if Canada is letting people cross borders again (cause I haven’t been paying attention) without proof of some special ‘thing’ as you mentioned your daughter’s move and I find myself still appalled that we live in a world where I can’t travel north at all, maybe never again… sigh. Wishing you warm sunshine and soft spring rains this week at least!
And yes, you are right. I pray that we can cross the border and see our grandchild. Will I be able to? The US let our daughter in but will she be able to come back home? We still can't leave our country. We are prisoners of the state.
And by sharing your story, you allow us to walk this path with you. We can never feel what you feel but it invokes memories of our own losses and thoughts of our immortal future.
Thanks. Our journeys together as humans on this Earth are just beginning. Acceptance of grief as we move together through the stages is necessary to healing. And we are healing, slowly painfully but we are. As we move through the disbelief, anger of the natural grief cycles we see and create another way forward. It is part of the celebration of the real.
Oh Tara.
I feel every letter of every word. You have described right down to the heartbeat, how I feel since Jake made the decision to leave his body as it no longer served him here. He is no longer contained. His energy and being are freed. He is now the light and energy that surrounds us.
And how right you are. There is no difference. Amongst the sadness, the worry, the wondering...all that remains is love. Some days it easy to feel and all else falls away, allowing it to wash over me. Some days it feels like the weight of a boulder pressing the breath from my chest and my agony is overwhelming. But it is love nonetheless. And intertwined into it all are the memories. The ones where I think "oh, Jake would have loved this meal I made" or "Jake loved being outside, he'd have loved being here on the lake with us". In those moments I almost, just almost forget that he is gone.
And it is also in those moments that I know he is so very near. Hearing my every thought, feeling every bit of love flowing from the tears falling down my face.
He is the breeze. He is the songs of the birds. He is the sunshine through the clouds.
Thank you Tara...for helping me to see through your eyes, that love remains.
Much love always to you and your family. I will always hold space for you in my heart. 💛
Thank you, Jeanie, for sharing such beautiful vulnerability with us all. Love from a mama to her beautiful son with such depth that its only with awe and tremendous love to a stranger that we can all share in it, even for a moment. That's what this is all about, isn't it? All of this jumbling, tumbling of life? To be in it and bear witness to those around us? To meet it all with compassion? Jake. Jake. Jake. I will add Jake, again, to the little songs I sing along with the birds in the forest this beautiful, sunny morning. And I will hold you in my heart with love.
Tara, I don't quite know what to say. There is so much beauty and so much pain and so much love and so much loss in these words.
I can only thank you for sharing them and send you all my love.
I know. There's really nothing to say. Sometimes hugs are better than words. But I hope in the sharing, I might be more of what I want to see in this world - vulnerable, honest, and love drenched. ❤️
Oh my goodness. Your words are timeless. I'm so grateful to be receiving these words.
I can only echo Jeanie (above). I also feel every word.
Thank you, Jill ❤️
Your words dove straight through the surface- into the deepest crevices of my heart. They played on the “nerves” of my soul in ways a song both freeing and beautiful and dark all at once. My “before” is April 22, 2016 and my after began like a jolt the next day as I learned of my beloved Mommy’s sudden and unexpected departure from her body. I was growing new life inside of me as my 4th baby was born 5 days after her funeral. I too have searched and continue ever and always to search for her- to feel her, to listen for her. She sends me beautiful words and healing, cathartic tears. She sends me love, love and more love when I am scared and doubting. The words that I most turn to are these, which she somehow communicated to me in a moment of deep pain, sorry, drowning tears and heaves that left me sore. As I was seeing beautiful memories and moments flashing over in my mind and feeling the utter panic and hopelessness that comes with the belief that there will be no more of those beautiful memories she told me this “It’s all real Mattie-your heart knows that. Love is ALIVE and it lives FOREVER.” I have found surrender to be the only path to a state of healing. I wish that my words could adequately convey to you the profound manner in which your words, your sharing of your heart, your real, raw, beautiful wisdom has impacted me this morning. Thank you for being brave enough to share it.
What a beautiful heart you have, Mattie. Isn't it extraordinary that when we are still with our grief, the messages, if we are open, come with such reassurance. "It's all real Mattie - your heart knows that. Love is ALIVE and it lives FOREVER." Yes. I have received similar messages. My memories are such warmth to me and I will dream of them always, but I recognize that my daughter lives on and it's not in memories, it's in the very real and the very present and that is teaching me to be there, too. That's where I find her.
Thank you for your beautiful compliment. There's nothing more profound for me than to offer a little drop of something I've been given in hopes that it brings some love or peace to another. All gifts need to be shared and I'm just hoping to pass it along. ❤️
Forever and ever Amen.
I am completely blown away by this. Your wisdom and transparency and way of giving us a glimpse of your incredible interior world. Thank you thank you thank you - this is such a gift. I’m seeping out tears for you all, happy sad it’s just all such a gift all the love
Thank you for receiving it that way, Jennifer. I am learning. Trying to learn. Trying to be present to the pain that brings messages on its thorns. It's so hard to untangle and, I think, to read sometimes. I am grateful when it's received in such a generous way. Thank you.❤️
Wow. wow. wow. Thank you so much for writing this. Thank you for bringing us with you to a place where we can see this truth with you.
Thank you for coming, Devin.
"Empty of the physical and bountiful in the immeasurable." Thank you for sharing your beautiful journey of love and pain and love.
Thank you for reading, Teresa.
It is so important to let grief have its way. It is so important to move through that tunnel—which will last forever in many ways. It isn’t as if the grief will ever disappear over time; it just can become less heavy. Eventually, over years and years, the ripples from the death of a beloved will travel, will reach out into time in unexpected ways, so that you can see more of the impact of the loss, the death. Paper and pen, with this post, served you well I think. It is allowing your raw grief a needed road to travel. Courage—and I know from your posts here that you have lots of that. I didn’t realize this loss was so new—just a year. I lost a beloved niece and godchild about 20 years ago now. She was 28. She left a baby who is now grown and headed to graduate school. The remaining three sisters are incredibly close and live near each other. The hole of the loss of this young woman has produced firm weldings that now overlay the loss and provide comfort and safety and connection that spreads pretty wide now. Still, her loss is always there.
Thank you for your beautiful words, Louisa. So very true. I think a lot of people think grief is something to get through or avoided. I think we need to just let it do what it must, to be present and feel what comes. I read somewhere that the gift of grief (which sounds a tad absurd) is learning to allow healing to become the way one lives life. Not that I will ever be "healed", but that to live each day with the intention of living a healing life. It requires presence and humility to take on life this way. I'm learning, I'm learning. ❤️❤️
Wrapping my arms around you. It is all love.
Years ago my nieces body came into this world but her spirit decided to stay where it was. We found ourselves standing in that sterile room giving comfort to my sister-in-law as the nurse asked if she wanted to hold her. And there she was, perfectly formed and wonderful but life was not there. We took turns holding her and saying goodbye. It was a season of death and life and death again for our family. So many coming and going, playing tug of war with our emotions. My Dad was standing with me at yet another goodbye and he said, "Have you noticed that at every funeral, somewhere in the family is a new one that has arrived? It is the way of things and one day it will be our turn but I am pretty thankful for the time I have had and for the new ones that I get to watch grow."
Goodbyes leave us empty and raw and it becomes a layer of dark colors on our life's canvas. But we know that soon life and growth and even joy return; not to cover the dark colors, but to add a new layer and a different colors on the canvas. When our painting is complete, all the colors laid down, hopefully those who stand viewing it, will see it all as love.
Dear Bonnie, thank you for your beautiful message. I am sorry that your niece's precious little life was so very short. I often wonder at the mystery of life, of death, of the order in this world that we see when it agrees with us but toss out when it doesn't. Sending you love.❤️
And still… life comes again, as your new grandchild grows and becomes a part of the world, of your world, life finding its way, as always, just as spring follows winter and our hearts know that we will leave too someday, and leave behind our love for people, places, sunrises, the sound of the swans’ seasonal return… thank you for reminding me today of how fleeting we all really are… AND of course I went and checked if Canada is letting people cross borders again (cause I haven’t been paying attention) without proof of some special ‘thing’ as you mentioned your daughter’s move and I find myself still appalled that we live in a world where I can’t travel north at all, maybe never again… sigh. Wishing you warm sunshine and soft spring rains this week at least!
Thank you ❤️❤️
And yes, you are right. I pray that we can cross the border and see our grandchild. Will I be able to? The US let our daughter in but will she be able to come back home? We still can't leave our country. We are prisoners of the state.
So beautiful. Thank you for reminding me that grief is truly a map to Love and our tears magnify the directions...
❤️ thank you, Sheri
And by sharing your story, you allow us to walk this path with you. We can never feel what you feel but it invokes memories of our own losses and thoughts of our immortal future.
Thank you, Barbara, that is my hope.❤️
Thank you for sharing this. “She is contained and contains” - that is sticking with me today.
Thank you, Esther❤️❤️
Thanks. Our journeys together as humans on this Earth are just beginning. Acceptance of grief as we move together through the stages is necessary to healing. And we are healing, slowly painfully but we are. As we move through the disbelief, anger of the natural grief cycles we see and create another way forward. It is part of the celebration of the real.
Sending a piece of love to you and her and all as we are interconnected! Thank you for sharing your love and words.