The thing with grief is that no matter the amount of dusting we're able to do, the cobwebs we're able to clear, it leaves its unrelenting residue – sometimes slough-offable, sometimes sticky. Take your time. Bake your cakes. Polish your aches. xx
Liz, I see you are 'featured publication' on Substack. How does one achieve that status? Could you share? I've read that some writers on Substack have been 'prepaid' or given advances to write on Substack. Are you one of those?
I’m so sorry for you all and the unsurmountable grief you must be feeling. The kids. I think of them every day and am hoping they are wrapped up in hugs and love from everyone in their lives. And I have no doubt that every morning when you all wake you have that split second of happiness, looking forward to the day and then you remember; and the reality hits you, hard. The weight of grief is heavy like a lead cloak. I am sending you all love, peace and light.
This was a beautiful retelling of that experience for you, thank you for sharing. My younger brother died by suicide in 2019, and those first days have the hazy outlines of a dream. I remember the phone call like it was yesterday, and my body physically rejecting the news in all ways it could. I walked dogs through Wag to give myself something to do while waiting for the flight to take me to my devastated parents’ home so I could help with the funeral arrangements. The grief has lessened over time, thankfully, it’s the one thing I can count on to help me heal when it doesn’t feel like anything ever could.
Thanks again for sharing your story. The shock from the death of a loved one is a deep sadness I don't look forward to feeling again, but it's comforting to know that I don't feel it alone and we can still continue to live a joyous life.
My sister died in December. She'd been actively sick since Sept. but diagnosed with bronchitis, pneumonia etc. It's a longer story but she was hospitalized for a little over a week because turns out, she had widespread cancer. I was with her the entire time. My younger sister and I spent the next two months cleaning out her apartment and her hair salon. She was kind of a hoarder and there was so.much.stuff. I was sad and grieving then, but it wasn't until I came home and was alone with nothing to do(because my employer shut down at the same time as my sister was dying) that it all hit me like a freight train. You all continue to be in my thoughts.
Yeah. Welcome to the world of the almost retired. No one tells it like you do. No one. Thanks.
One step at a time. One step
The thing with grief is that no matter the amount of dusting we're able to do, the cobwebs we're able to clear, it leaves its unrelenting residue – sometimes slough-offable, sometimes sticky. Take your time. Bake your cakes. Polish your aches. xx
Indeed. My toilet is scrubbed, and the dishes are put away, but I (and others near me) bear the scars of every emotion I’ve ever avoided.
Lovely, and so true. Just keep the feet moving enough to stay breathing.
Liz, I see you are 'featured publication' on Substack. How does one achieve that status? Could you share? I've read that some writers on Substack have been 'prepaid' or given advances to write on Substack. Are you one of those?
Inquiring minds want to know ...
Cheers,
Mark
I’m so sorry for you all and the unsurmountable grief you must be feeling. The kids. I think of them every day and am hoping they are wrapped up in hugs and love from everyone in their lives. And I have no doubt that every morning when you all wake you have that split second of happiness, looking forward to the day and then you remember; and the reality hits you, hard. The weight of grief is heavy like a lead cloak. I am sending you all love, peace and light.
Wow. I can relate to the motions, the need to do something, fix something, even if they are for emotions from different trauma reasons. Thank you
It has been five years since I lost my husband and love of my life, 11 since my best friend succumbed to ovarian cancer. I know this well.
I know this well. Just...sending love.
This was a beautiful retelling of that experience for you, thank you for sharing. My younger brother died by suicide in 2019, and those first days have the hazy outlines of a dream. I remember the phone call like it was yesterday, and my body physically rejecting the news in all ways it could. I walked dogs through Wag to give myself something to do while waiting for the flight to take me to my devastated parents’ home so I could help with the funeral arrangements. The grief has lessened over time, thankfully, it’s the one thing I can count on to help me heal when it doesn’t feel like anything ever could.
Thanks again for sharing your story. The shock from the death of a loved one is a deep sadness I don't look forward to feeling again, but it's comforting to know that I don't feel it alone and we can still continue to live a joyous life.
The doing of things that can be done. Keep going. 🙏❤️
My sister died in December. She'd been actively sick since Sept. but diagnosed with bronchitis, pneumonia etc. It's a longer story but she was hospitalized for a little over a week because turns out, she had widespread cancer. I was with her the entire time. My younger sister and I spent the next two months cleaning out her apartment and her hair salon. She was kind of a hoarder and there was so.much.stuff. I was sad and grieving then, but it wasn't until I came home and was alone with nothing to do(because my employer shut down at the same time as my sister was dying) that it all hit me like a freight train. You all continue to be in my thoughts.
Ouch. 😪