Your words seem to absorb straight into our hearts Tara. You have such a gift of articulating the beauty of life with all the feelings and hopes and sadness and just all of it. Thank you for sharing with us.
Our daughter was stillborn in September of 2021. Coming up on the two year anniversary is mind boggling to me. It feels like both yesterday and an eternity since last we saw her, held her, kissed her. I found you shortly after losing her. Someone on Instagram shared your page. The first thing I read from you was about the mother pine. How she still stands because she must. It helped in ways I didn't even know I could be helped at that time. Thank you for your beautiful words. I wish you and your family peace and love during this time. ❤
I'm so sorry about your daughter, Stephanie. Mother Pine holds us all with her wisdom and displays of determination and grace. I get great inspiration from her. I wish you and your family much peace and love as well.
"Soon there will be Goldfinches. They found me at this time, two years ago, slumped at the foot of a tree, certain I could not take another breath. They came like a cloud, a great swarm of sunshine into every limb and branch of that tree and chattered incessantly. Jubilation that felt so out of place, so overboard and saturated. It had to be that intense for me to feel even a crumb of it then." Much LOVE.
Yesterday my husband gave me a wool felted goldfinch he had made for me. He hadn't even read this essay yet. So, the goldfinch came sooner than I thought.
Love. Yes, take a week off. For sure. Wise. One has to move through grief. If never ends, but it...changes. Time does not "heal all." But reflection and remembrance provides something--growth, stretching, a deeper acceptance maybe. I don't know... You can still see her you know--a flash at the corners of your eyes, her voice inside your head can sometimes be so clear...
Tara, your writing paves the way for me & provides me with such comfort in ways that I have no words to describe ... not the same at all, I know not even close to losing a cherished and profoundly loved child but for me a loss of unfathomable depth ... my precious & most beloved father Alasdair passed away very “suddenly” in his sleep at home, in his own bed, in quiet, dignified solitude, during the night of the 4th of April. Exactly one month before his 60th Wedding Anniversary. Our family was in the midst of preparing for a large gathering & celebration to mark this diamond in my parents lives and instead prepared a memorial service. We are in heartbroken shock. I am trying to make sense of it and trying not to drop into the most furious abyss of rage ... his death was a direct result of forced “injections”that he submitted to under extreme duress because he had to go to hospital to have skin cancers removed in March and was unable to be admitted for surgery unless he had received at least 2 of them. He had been a conscientious objector all through 2020, 2021 & 2022. We talked often and he NEVER wanted them because he saw & felt exactly what was going on. We both knew what they would do to to him. Our lives are forever altered and impoverished as result and the world has lost such a wise, honourable, rare soul - a man of such deep integrity, love and masculine nobility. 🕊️✨🪶.
Dear Lord, pour your peace over Tara and her family as they navigate this week. I pray you continue to weave strands of strength when she needs them most, whether it is the song of a goldfinch or some other indication that you hold her dear and near. Thank you for her courage to share her voice that soothes the souls of others. Protect her and her home from things seen and unseen. Amen. (Thank you Tara, praying for you)
Doesn’t nature show us, oh she does, in so many ways.
It is both harsh (because how dare life continue under such desperate loss!) and utterly right and anchoring, that death is after all, an essential part in all of this.
I remember my mother dying in the depths of winter; my grief also frozen.
Then all of a sudden, how dare the hellebores show themselves, how dare the maple come into leaf, how dare the blackbird sing his song in the morning.
And then the grief, in all it’s wretchedness, winding the life out of me too in some moments.
May your goldfinch call you back to life when you need a bridge, may it follow you in your journey in the unseen, with your precious and most wondrous Mila.
My love to you and to Troy, and to all those who love and were loved by Mila 💚
Your beautiful words hit my heart both gently and hard. The gentle part was thinking of all the spring birds that also twitter in our trees. I saw my first male western tanager with its bright orange head, yellow body and black wings...so stunning. The hard part took me back five years to losing our son--forever 32-- in the summer. I feel for you and know the deep sadness and missing. My heart is with you this week as you reach back to a day when your life changed in an instant. A friend once told me she wished us closure. She meant well but didn't understand that we want always the openness to him and his life, and we carry him with us always.
Your words seem to absorb straight into our hearts Tara. You have such a gift of articulating the beauty of life with all the feelings and hopes and sadness and just all of it. Thank you for sharing with us.
Thank you, Brooke. What a generous compliment. I'll keep it :)
“Life demands participation.” Those words - how I love them. You and your family will be on my mind and in my heart this week Tara.
Thank you, Noreen.
Our daughter was stillborn in September of 2021. Coming up on the two year anniversary is mind boggling to me. It feels like both yesterday and an eternity since last we saw her, held her, kissed her. I found you shortly after losing her. Someone on Instagram shared your page. The first thing I read from you was about the mother pine. How she still stands because she must. It helped in ways I didn't even know I could be helped at that time. Thank you for your beautiful words. I wish you and your family peace and love during this time. ❤
I'm so sorry about your daughter, Stephanie. Mother Pine holds us all with her wisdom and displays of determination and grace. I get great inspiration from her. I wish you and your family much peace and love as well.
"Soon there will be Goldfinches. They found me at this time, two years ago, slumped at the foot of a tree, certain I could not take another breath. They came like a cloud, a great swarm of sunshine into every limb and branch of that tree and chattered incessantly. Jubilation that felt so out of place, so overboard and saturated. It had to be that intense for me to feel even a crumb of it then." Much LOVE.
Yesterday my husband gave me a wool felted goldfinch he had made for me. He hadn't even read this essay yet. So, the goldfinch came sooner than I thought.
Love. Yes, take a week off. For sure. Wise. One has to move through grief. If never ends, but it...changes. Time does not "heal all." But reflection and remembrance provides something--growth, stretching, a deeper acceptance maybe. I don't know... You can still see her you know--a flash at the corners of your eyes, her voice inside your head can sometimes be so clear...
Yes, I see hear often. Less now than I did. She's further now, comes to me differently. But our relationship is ever alive. xo
♥️
Love and light to your family! 🙏🏼
💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚
Sending lots of love to you and your family 💗
Bless you and your family, Tara. I send you love and a hug as comforting as the trees and the birds and the earth and the sky.
Thank you, Melissa. I accept it with great gratitude.
Will there be an audio version..?? I’m resisting reading preferring to listen while out doing chores in the sun!
Sorry, Joe, I broke the little connector off of my microphone and didn't get my replacement yet.
Tara, your writing paves the way for me & provides me with such comfort in ways that I have no words to describe ... not the same at all, I know not even close to losing a cherished and profoundly loved child but for me a loss of unfathomable depth ... my precious & most beloved father Alasdair passed away very “suddenly” in his sleep at home, in his own bed, in quiet, dignified solitude, during the night of the 4th of April. Exactly one month before his 60th Wedding Anniversary. Our family was in the midst of preparing for a large gathering & celebration to mark this diamond in my parents lives and instead prepared a memorial service. We are in heartbroken shock. I am trying to make sense of it and trying not to drop into the most furious abyss of rage ... his death was a direct result of forced “injections”that he submitted to under extreme duress because he had to go to hospital to have skin cancers removed in March and was unable to be admitted for surgery unless he had received at least 2 of them. He had been a conscientious objector all through 2020, 2021 & 2022. We talked often and he NEVER wanted them because he saw & felt exactly what was going on. We both knew what they would do to to him. Our lives are forever altered and impoverished as result and the world has lost such a wise, honourable, rare soul - a man of such deep integrity, love and masculine nobility. 🕊️✨🪶.
Dear Lord, pour your peace over Tara and her family as they navigate this week. I pray you continue to weave strands of strength when she needs them most, whether it is the song of a goldfinch or some other indication that you hold her dear and near. Thank you for her courage to share her voice that soothes the souls of others. Protect her and her home from things seen and unseen. Amen. (Thank you Tara, praying for you)
Dearest Tara,
Doesn’t nature show us, oh she does, in so many ways.
It is both harsh (because how dare life continue under such desperate loss!) and utterly right and anchoring, that death is after all, an essential part in all of this.
I remember my mother dying in the depths of winter; my grief also frozen.
Then all of a sudden, how dare the hellebores show themselves, how dare the maple come into leaf, how dare the blackbird sing his song in the morning.
And then the grief, in all it’s wretchedness, winding the life out of me too in some moments.
May your goldfinch call you back to life when you need a bridge, may it follow you in your journey in the unseen, with your precious and most wondrous Mila.
My love to you and to Troy, and to all those who love and were loved by Mila 💚
Oh my, your husband’s gift just brought unexpected tears to my eyes. ❤️
Your beautiful words hit my heart both gently and hard. The gentle part was thinking of all the spring birds that also twitter in our trees. I saw my first male western tanager with its bright orange head, yellow body and black wings...so stunning. The hard part took me back five years to losing our son--forever 32-- in the summer. I feel for you and know the deep sadness and missing. My heart is with you this week as you reach back to a day when your life changed in an instant. A friend once told me she wished us closure. She meant well but didn't understand that we want always the openness to him and his life, and we carry him with us always.