It seems to me that the cloak of invisibility worn by those invisibly grieving is no less than a superhero’s cape. While tossing and turning on mourning’s high seas, it can take Herculean strength to simply get out of bed some days. It can take immense strength to acknowledge that one must amp ...
Memories, once snarled, now lay sorted and stacked, their sharp edges softened and beginning to decay. Within these layers, resolutions have emerged.
But she is never coming back, and I fear that if I look in too deep, I will find that only emptiness is left. What crayon is going to color that?
What I want to say is too much, too raw. The thing is, beautiful one, that your signature is one of the more stunning and real and powerful I’ve seen.
I think often how Life got the seasons all wrong. Brent and I were supposed to bury Mom and Dad. Not the other way around.
My father was amazing. Sometimes, he took up all of the space in the room with his laughter, his fiery soul, his protection and honor of women. So, when you are lucky enough to have experienced that, it is difficult not to feel anger at the general lapse of chivalry in society.
I cry into animal fur because of harsh words shared so many times about this topic in the darkest corners of my life, and because of my primal urge to push bone and flesh from the wildest part of my soul into the world. So you don't know the shocking grief of having had moments of deep longing, ...
Offer your grandest struggles as fodder for your brightest future, and then release it to this New, Black Luna -- void of detachment, and full of expectant, grateful, weightless allowance.