When I read, “Grief trickles down through the cracks in our defences, fertilising the depths where richer, vibrant love and connection are fed long before the sunshine even touches them,” immediately I wanted to ask you, how do you do it? How do you write something like that? Where does writing like that come from? And as I further read your blog, I got my answer. When you write like this, it comes from a place you’ve lived in. It’s an exclusive community and membership comes at a premium. Some people think they want to live there as writers but the mortgage is too high. The cost is life…a cost that weighs on your soul, heavy hanging heart and hearth. Tara, I am so sorry for your family’s lost, for the cost. There is no measure of gratitude I can express to you for sharing your grief with us. Thank you.
I used to tell myself over and over again, life will never give me more than I can handle - that I was made for whatever was placed in front of me. Yet every time I was taken to a place of extreme questioning, my faith was tested in ways that I felt went beyond my existence. I wanted to die and did my best to rush death. But the places I was brought to… I didn’t know I existed there. I was alive there, too. And I, we, you, all of us are still existing and alive right now. There but for the grace of god, We go.
I try so hard to be honest when I write, even if it costs me. It's so meaningful to hear that sometimes I get that right. I don't want to be in my head searching for all the right things, I want to be in my guts observing and trying to share what I see and feel and smell. And you, Tracie, are a beautiful writer in your own right. I hope you know that. Every time you write to me, I feel like you're talking to me. The you of you comes through. That's a gift.
I have been to the very brink of where you tread. A suicide attempt, done in secret not the oft “cry for help”, but a seriously planned and made attempt foiled only by a simple happenstance. To tuck in an adult child and finding her near death, the entire contents of a pill box consumed. Rapid medical intervention was successful with no residual effects on the physical person, but the hard work was ahead. A lifetime of work on the spirit and mind for her and us. I cannot know why I was spared and cannot help but feel grateful for my fortune. The time since has fostered my reverence of the moment, even though I work in a world of death and the intimacy of this, I did not fully appreciate the collective moments of life. I hope I continue to savor these for all my days.
I do know that I savor your wise, unflinching counsel and the community you have built for us in this world of superficial connection. This gift you continue to give is absolutely priceless 💙💙
Dear Lisa, I am so profoundly grateful that happenstance arrived in time for your loved one and that you are there to take on that work alongside, however many lifetimes it takes. Sending you my love.
I don’t have the words Tara, but know that hearts are touched by your wise counsel and your insights into what no one wants to think about. Many of us share similar grief and others of us may one day unexpectedly be on this path, so it’s good to read and reflect with you. God blesses you and all of us by healing or preparing our hearts for what happens to us all in life.
Dear Erin, I had never read this poem by Maya before. It touched me deeply. How breathtakingly beautiful. I copied it and stored it, but I also sent it to my husband. I will read it again and again. Thank you for sharing it with me.
I don't have the talent and ability to be as eloquent as you are Tara, but I did want to try to convey how deeply I appreciate your sharing these thoughts today. Your words will be written on my heart, and I will try to recall them every time I need to remind myself to slow down and be fully present in my life....to appreciate the time I have with those I love and to cherish every moment.
That's so meaningful to me, Nancy. It's why I share what I do, hoping that we can somehow rebuild that sense of community where we learn from one another. Thank you for sharing that with me.❤️
I agree we are not spared. No matter what good you do you can be served cruelty. No matter what wrong you do you can be served grace. Recently I lost my manager to her ex stabbing her to death. Leaving behind her 4yo daughter. I worked with her for 3 months. We were the same age, 29. Perhaps Death visited me and was the one who yelled my name in the shower just 7 hours before she died. It helps to read this during this time, thank you for sharing Tara. I’ll live in this moment, and devote myself being here, so that when I go I go.
How horrific. I will pray for that little girl who has had her mama taken from her. Life is so mysterious, so many impossible questions we just don't get the answers to. Love to you, Katie.
A beautiful reminder that we are given a precious gift, to be here at all, that we need to slow down and not miss all the beauty and gifts of life and the important moments, and understand that always always we are loved, especially when we feel most abandoned.
The moments that make up a life worth living in! Thank you for the reminder to cherish the moments! I don’t have the greatest memory and I worry I will lose these moments too easily. I try writing them to reflect on. Beautiful!
Oh Tara, I always feel like I shouldn't say anything, like I'm trespassing on sacred ground and I am. It is sacred. That picture, your description of your daughter's hair - all of it. And it reminded me of this beautiful quote:
"In my mind I was having tea with death and we talked about everything under the sun and the thing that struck me most was how easily death laughed and cried at the smallest things and I remember thinking, this is one of the most alive people I've ever met. Because death does not take this lightly, the running your fingers like a prayer over every bit of this world, saying quietly with every breath, thank you for this chance to love." Brian Andreas.
Janene, that quote took my breath away. And now I must read more for this Brian Andreas fellow. Thank you for sharing that with me. Thank you for being here to read my words and to share in this little corner. ❤️❤️
Whenever I come across a beautiful piece of writing that captures a wisdom or illuminates something "just so", it stops me in my tracks. So often this is the case with what you share. Thank you for sharing your heart and it's knowing with us all.
Thank you for your humbling words and offering this very raw piece of your life with us. That drawing of your daughter, I've seen before in another of your newsletters. It gets me every time, tears, what depth it has in such a simple illustration.
Thank you. The artist we worked with to draw that image was so gifted. She got it all in a few swipes of a pen. We are having that image carved on our daughter's headstone. What a thing to say.❤️
When I read, “Grief trickles down through the cracks in our defences, fertilising the depths where richer, vibrant love and connection are fed long before the sunshine even touches them,” immediately I wanted to ask you, how do you do it? How do you write something like that? Where does writing like that come from? And as I further read your blog, I got my answer. When you write like this, it comes from a place you’ve lived in. It’s an exclusive community and membership comes at a premium. Some people think they want to live there as writers but the mortgage is too high. The cost is life…a cost that weighs on your soul, heavy hanging heart and hearth. Tara, I am so sorry for your family’s lost, for the cost. There is no measure of gratitude I can express to you for sharing your grief with us. Thank you.
I used to tell myself over and over again, life will never give me more than I can handle - that I was made for whatever was placed in front of me. Yet every time I was taken to a place of extreme questioning, my faith was tested in ways that I felt went beyond my existence. I wanted to die and did my best to rush death. But the places I was brought to… I didn’t know I existed there. I was alive there, too. And I, we, you, all of us are still existing and alive right now. There but for the grace of god, We go.
I try so hard to be honest when I write, even if it costs me. It's so meaningful to hear that sometimes I get that right. I don't want to be in my head searching for all the right things, I want to be in my guts observing and trying to share what I see and feel and smell. And you, Tracie, are a beautiful writer in your own right. I hope you know that. Every time you write to me, I feel like you're talking to me. The you of you comes through. That's a gift.
I have been to the very brink of where you tread. A suicide attempt, done in secret not the oft “cry for help”, but a seriously planned and made attempt foiled only by a simple happenstance. To tuck in an adult child and finding her near death, the entire contents of a pill box consumed. Rapid medical intervention was successful with no residual effects on the physical person, but the hard work was ahead. A lifetime of work on the spirit and mind for her and us. I cannot know why I was spared and cannot help but feel grateful for my fortune. The time since has fostered my reverence of the moment, even though I work in a world of death and the intimacy of this, I did not fully appreciate the collective moments of life. I hope I continue to savor these for all my days.
I do know that I savor your wise, unflinching counsel and the community you have built for us in this world of superficial connection. This gift you continue to give is absolutely priceless 💙💙
Dear Lisa, I am so profoundly grateful that happenstance arrived in time for your loved one and that you are there to take on that work alongside, however many lifetimes it takes. Sending you my love.
Thank you. Each day with her is a gift. Some of them are exquisitely painful but I am so very grateful for each and every one. 💙
I don’t have the words Tara, but know that hearts are touched by your wise counsel and your insights into what no one wants to think about. Many of us share similar grief and others of us may one day unexpectedly be on this path, so it’s good to read and reflect with you. God blesses you and all of us by healing or preparing our hearts for what happens to us all in life.
This post reminded me of the poem "When Great Trees Fall" by Maya Angelou. As always Tara, your words and courage inspire.
When Great Trees Fall
By Maya Angelou
When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.
When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.
When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
see with
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
examines,
gnaws on kind words
unsaid,
promised walks
never taken.
Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
nurture,
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
radiance, fall away.
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance of
dark, cold
caves.
And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be
better. For they existed.
Dear Erin, I had never read this poem by Maya before. It touched me deeply. How breathtakingly beautiful. I copied it and stored it, but I also sent it to my husband. I will read it again and again. Thank you for sharing it with me.
You have touched me deeply. Thank you doesn’t seem enough.
I don't have the talent and ability to be as eloquent as you are Tara, but I did want to try to convey how deeply I appreciate your sharing these thoughts today. Your words will be written on my heart, and I will try to recall them every time I need to remind myself to slow down and be fully present in my life....to appreciate the time I have with those I love and to cherish every moment.
That's so meaningful to me, Nancy. It's why I share what I do, hoping that we can somehow rebuild that sense of community where we learn from one another. Thank you for sharing that with me.❤️
I agree we are not spared. No matter what good you do you can be served cruelty. No matter what wrong you do you can be served grace. Recently I lost my manager to her ex stabbing her to death. Leaving behind her 4yo daughter. I worked with her for 3 months. We were the same age, 29. Perhaps Death visited me and was the one who yelled my name in the shower just 7 hours before she died. It helps to read this during this time, thank you for sharing Tara. I’ll live in this moment, and devote myself being here, so that when I go I go.
How horrific. I will pray for that little girl who has had her mama taken from her. Life is so mysterious, so many impossible questions we just don't get the answers to. Love to you, Katie.
A beautiful reminder that we are given a precious gift, to be here at all, that we need to slow down and not miss all the beauty and gifts of life and the important moments, and understand that always always we are loved, especially when we feel most abandoned.
I feel like this was written for me. Thanks.
The moments that make up a life worth living in! Thank you for the reminder to cherish the moments! I don’t have the greatest memory and I worry I will lose these moments too easily. I try writing them to reflect on. Beautiful!
So profoundly written. Thank you for sharing your truth, wisdom, and vulnerability.
Thank you for this, you touch my soul as your grief is like mine, you have a gift that allows you to put it into words.
Just beautiful! God bless you always.
Oh Tara, I always feel like I shouldn't say anything, like I'm trespassing on sacred ground and I am. It is sacred. That picture, your description of your daughter's hair - all of it. And it reminded me of this beautiful quote:
"In my mind I was having tea with death and we talked about everything under the sun and the thing that struck me most was how easily death laughed and cried at the smallest things and I remember thinking, this is one of the most alive people I've ever met. Because death does not take this lightly, the running your fingers like a prayer over every bit of this world, saying quietly with every breath, thank you for this chance to love." Brian Andreas.
Janene, that quote took my breath away. And now I must read more for this Brian Andreas fellow. Thank you for sharing that with me. Thank you for being here to read my words and to share in this little corner. ❤️❤️
Whenever I come across a beautiful piece of writing that captures a wisdom or illuminates something "just so", it stops me in my tracks. So often this is the case with what you share. Thank you for sharing your heart and it's knowing with us all.
Thank you for your humbling words and offering this very raw piece of your life with us. That drawing of your daughter, I've seen before in another of your newsletters. It gets me every time, tears, what depth it has in such a simple illustration.
Thank you. The artist we worked with to draw that image was so gifted. She got it all in a few swipes of a pen. We are having that image carved on our daughter's headstone. What a thing to say.❤️