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when we are struggling through the night, falling prey to the beasts of guilt and regret, drowning in a river of tears, finally succumbing to exhaustion, we cannot be expected to believe in the beauty of the coming dawn. somewhere in our past, we knew morning to be night’s faithful follower, but for now, that understanding will have to force its way through the menacing darkness and back to us again.

grief runs by its own clock, and as surely as we sometimes mourn with agonizing slowness, we will leap trough other days, making astonishing strides toward recovery. give voice to sorrow. lend words to loneliness. make heard the depth of your despair and the breaking of your heart. for what remains unspoken can never burst into healing song. -from Safe Passage


don’t say dumb things when a friend is grieving. don’t ask if it is getting easier. don’t ask if it is getting better. it isn’t necessary to ever ask these things. don’t be so preoccupied with “better” or “easier”…take a minute to expand your vocabulary…NEVER ask your friend to “Get Over It”…and don’t give advice or sit in anticipation of the advice and solutions you have, with all your wisdom…instead LISTEN,  be there, ask if she wants to share a cup of tea…ask if her yard needs to be mowed…do your best to feel comfortable with letting the unfixable go unfixed…

in yoga today i tried with every bit of focus i could muster, to send the calm energy of the room to you.

My grief process will take much longer than you want it to.

You can’t fix this for me by doing anything but you can just be there for me.

I will be in a sort of fog for at least 3 months. When the fog lifts, I might get worse.

I will have periods of doing okay, then I will feel despair again.

I will be exhausted. Grief is hard work.

My desire, creativity, and motivation will be gone for quite awhile.

My ability to experience joy may also be absent.

I will have a range of emotions from irritability to inexplicable rage and it may be targeted at you. Please forgive me.

I am vulnerable, I feel brittle, and I do not feel resilient.

I can’t take too much stimulation. I probably won’t feel like being sociable.

I know you miss the old me, but I’m forever changed by the loss of my loved one.

It will feel as though I haven’t made any progress. However, I am slowly healing with occasional normal setbacks.

I will heal. Please be patient, loving, and understanding.

climbing up the Cold Mountain road,

the Cold Mountain road seems endless.

the Way’s too long and the ground’s too stony.

streams are too broad and undergrowth too thick.

the moss is slippery even when it’s not raining,

and pine trees sigh even if no wind blows.

who can leave their links to the everyday world,

and can sit with me up in the white clouds? (han shan)


it is not your fault that people haven’t stayed. it isn’t even unique to your friends or your situation. it is what happens. not that that makes it right.

piglet sidled up to pooh from behind. “pooh!” he whispered. “yes, piglet?” “nothing,” said piglet, taking pooh’s paw. “i just wanted to be sure of you.” – a.a. milne

that’s what i feel when i see those three words plus the ellipsis…the work of trying to live again

have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. do not now look for the answers. they cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. it is a question of experiencing everything. at present you need to live the question. perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day. -rainer maria rilke

521 for 23 wishes project

kindness ripples...

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