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Cheyenne Jamerson shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 5 months, 3 weeks agoHighschool skies and sea green eyes
Freshman Year.
My freshman year of high school was breezy and easy, like the Washington skies. I was just growing out of the ridiculous haircut I had gotten in 8th grade, and nobody cared about all the drama that happened in middle school, anyway. I had a fresh start, and I intended to use it in this big new high school.
I found my new best friend in drama class, which we both failed. She was warm and friendly like the summer, which was her name. We became inseparable, and I haven’t found a friend like her since.
The majority of my freshman year revolved around one thing. He was tall and had green eyes. I’ll never forget the first time we held hands, also in drama class. We were watching 12 Summer Nights, by Shakespeare. I was playing with the ring on his finger that spun around in its metal case, and then I wasn’t. We were holding hands, and we did for the rest of the movie. At the end, the lights came on, and I didn’t know what to say. We just looked at each other.
Hello, Green Eyes. I thought, and he raced off.
Our first kiss was outside of his house. Although I didn’t have the best of eyesight, I could see his mom’s disapproving gaze from the living room window. But it happened anyway, and he ran off, just like before.
See, he was dying of cancer. But one moment with him felt like forever, and that’s how I thought it would last.
There were a lot of firsts with him. He was my first actual boyfriend, and my first real life lesson. He was also my first, and I was his first. We both skipped drama (the first class we ever skipped) to go to his house, and when we got back, everyone knew what we had done, and we pretended to be embarrassed. But we weren’t.
It was also the first time I remember being truly happy, inside and out, or at least the first time since I had been a child. And we both sat in the class as the others teased us with grins on our faces, and when I looked at him, I was speechless.
Hello, Green Eyes.
Sophomore Year.
Sophomore year started out like my freshman year of high school, but ended very stormy, like the Colorado skies. My mom told me she “missed the mountains,” so it was goodbye Washington, and hello Colorado. Goodbye popularity, goodbye best friend, goodbye warm weather and happy feelings.
Goodbye, Green Eyes.
I never really said goodbye to Green Eyes, not even online. I didn’t want to face the fact that it would hurt more to say goodbye than to pretend I had never left. Of course he found me and we talked, but I never told him out loud all that he meant to me.
Growing up, everyone always told me to have no regrets. They never told me what to do when they started piling up. Nobody explained how to cope with guilt or how to get rid of the regrets. Not saying goodbye to that boy and telling him something, anything, still weighs on me today.
My family and I drove down to Colorado on a three-day trip on a crowded GreyHound bus, to a small trailer park on the very edge of a small town. My mom, her boyfriend, and my brother and sister, and I moved into a three-bedroom trailer with my mom’s friend and her son and daughter. You can imagine it was crowded.
A few months after I started school, now poor and an outcast, I thought it couldn’t get any worse. Then I got a few messages from my friends back home telling me that he was dead. He died in his sleep. The cancer had won. At first I felt numb. All I could do was stare in the mirror, and think, goodbye, for real.
Goodbye, green eyes.
Junior Year.
Junior year was a blur. The storm clouds in the sky paralleled the ever-present storm clouds in my mind. I didn’t go to class much. When I did, I was (please excuse my language) a frigid bitch to those around me. I had a few friends, but none of them went to the high school. I started to lash out at my mom and burn the bridges around me.
I wouldn’t admit it, but all I wanted was my green eyes back. So there were plenty of blue eyes, and brown eyes, and blurry faces and one-night stands, and a lot of parties. I went to school less and less and started doing other things more and more.
I snuck out all the time and ran away twice. I got into a fight with my mom’s boyfriend and he ended up in jail. That night, my mom told me I had to find somewhere else to stay.
And I did, quickly. But my struggles were only beginning as I would have to learn how to balance school on top of my Couchsurfing lifestyle.
As I walked through the cold one morning on my way to school, I caught my gaze in the reflection of a car window, and I stared glumly at my tired face.
I miss you, green eyes.
Senior Year.
Senior year was a silver lining on the horizon, like the morning I woke up after I had spent the night underneath the town bridge and gazed at the Colorado mountains with a new sense of determination. I was never going to have to do that again. I knew I deserved better, and I was the only person who was going to do something about it.
I switched schools to an alternative school called Horizons, and the principal of my old school agreed to reinstate my credits from Junior year as long as I passed all my classes in this new school.
Although I still struggled with homelessness, drugs and alcohol, I found that life was easier in this new school. I was passing all my classes, and my future seemed hopeful.
When I watched my sister graduate college from Fort Lewis, I had never felt so proud of anyone in my entire life. I wanted to feel that pride for myself, too.
My sister showed me her college diploma, and I showed her mine from high school. She hugged me. I looked at her straight in her eyes, which were normally a dark rich chocolate-brown. But at that moment, the sun shining through the clouds bounced off the vibrant sea of leaves to reflect that familiar sea-green hue I had not seen in a long time.
“I’m so proud of you,” she said, and smiled.
“I’m proud of you, too,” I mumbled back, and smiled even bigger.
I love you, Green Eyes. Thanks for everything.
High school is a time of learning who you are, what you want to do, what you’re gonna be, and where you’re gonna go. One of the most important lessons I learned in those four years was that life can change in an instant. Life is resilient but can be fragile. Everyone always told me to have no regrets, but never told me what to do when you do find yourself carrying them around, like the heavy books in your school bag. What you can do is this: let your regrets change you. Let them teach you. Let them challenge you. Sometimes the only way to make things right is to do things differently, because you can’t change the past. Because time rolls by like the puffy clouds in the sky, and change is inevitable. So live a life that you are happy living, cherish and value people. Because eventually we all close our eyes. And man, I miss those green eyes.
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James/Maintain4life shared a letter in the
Surviving Addiction group 6 months agoThis post is viewable by the Unsealed community only.
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Alexis shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 6 months agoA Heartbeat Silenced: Reflections on Loss and Love
Alexis HarveyI look around and see so much loss. Be careful in life; it comes at a cost.
There’s no avoiding death; it’s a scary fate. Live life to the fullest before it’s your day.
It’s excruciatingly painful, but it’s a part of life. Grief is an emotion that cuts deep like a knife.
Cherish every second, minute, and hour with the people you love. Always be prepared to relive memories with your loved ones up above.
There’s no right or wrong way to grieve when someone leaves our lives unexpectedly. But we can keep their memory alive by living out our lives intentionally.
Of course, they wouldn’t want us to be sad, yet they’re no longer here. It’s hard to be happy when life takes away someone we hold dear.
There’s no time like the present when tomorrow may not be promised. It’s okay to be sad and to cry. Embrace your feelings and keep it honest.
I don’t handle loss well, so I write my feelings down. It’s hard to stay strong when there’s loss all around.
Don’t take loved ones for granted; appreciate them while you can. Everything happens for a reason; it’s all part of God’s plan!
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Thank you for sharing your peace through your journey of grief and being an inspiration onto others. Grief is a very tough battle that I struggle with everyday. It has its curve balls in the most random times. I’m so glad that you have this outlet to process through this tough time. You are seen. And you are heard!
-Cierra-
Aww thanks Cierra, I appreciate your kind words 💕 It feels nice to be seen and heard 🥺 I’m glad that my words are inspiring to you as well as others!
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Erin Williams shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 6 months, 1 weeks agoThis post is viewable by the Unsealed community only.
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TaMara E'Lan G. shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 6 months, 1 weeks agoLIVING THROUGH LOVE AND LOSS: THE JOURNEY OF CUMULATIVE GRIEF
TaMara E'Lan G.I remember the smell of Charlie perfume and peppermint candy, the sound of her strong voice and the feel of her warm, calloused hands. Grandma Lee Lee, as she was fondly called, loved to cook, dance and play the piano at church. Often when GaGa had political engagements and mommy was busy living her life, I spent immeasurable time with Grandma Lee Lee. I just had my sixth birthday party and although Grandma Lee Lee wasn’t feeling well, I remember her being the fun hostess everyone adored because she always loved a good party. I remember going home and a few days later waking up to everyone crying in my house. When GaGa told me Grandma Lee Lee had died, my little mind couldn’t comprehend it. I told my grandmother that Grandma Lee Lee had just come to me that night, beautiful and not sick. She told me that she was better, that she loved me and I was to be a good girl because she’ll be watching me. How could Grandma Lee Lee come see me if she was dead? My grandmother looked at me, the tears streaming from her eyes and held me close without saying a word.
That was my first memory and experience with death and a couple of years later a childhood friend, Karla Campbell, was kidnapped and murdered. We were just eight years old and all I was thinking about was that I was never going to see her again because a bad man hurt her. My biggest heartbreak came in 2000 when we had to make the most difficult decision to take my grandmother off life support on Easter Sunday at noon. GaGa had been my world and I had been her caregiver since a senior in high school. I never fully recovered from that decision or day and over the years, I would replay and relive the moment to my mental and spiritual detriment.
Since then, death has often paralyzed me each time; with the last decade experiencing multiple losses, seemingly back to back with little time or rest to process the last transition of a loved one. For example late 2011-2013, I had lost thirteen loved ones; among them my god child, the suicide of a cousin, the murder of another cousin, my uncle who was my father figure and finally ending with the sudden death of my grief counselor herself. I had started going to therapy in 2012 to deal with my compounded grief and she was a great inspiration for my healing. Imagine someone giving you coping tools for grief processing and ultimately you have to deal with losing them as well. It was the first time I had heard about complicated and compounded grief:“Complicated grief is like being in an ongoing, heightened state of mourning that keeps you from healing. Signs and symptoms of complicated grief may include: Intense sorrow, pain and rumination over the loss of your loved one. Focus on little else but your loved one’s death.”
“Compounded grief, also known as cumulative grief, is a pile-on effect of grief or “grief overload.” It may mean losing several loved ones in a short period of time. It may mean losing a loved one, then a relationship, then a job, then a pet, then a natural disaster hits and damages your home, etc. The losses can come from various sectors, but put together, it’s a big pile of grief and loss to deal with”
I thought I would never see a season of so much loss like 2011-2013 but unfortunately, I was wrong. And although my perception of death matured with my spirituality, my constant and prolonged grieving has often prevented me from healing as much as I could. 2017 I lost my mother to breast cancer after an estrangement. Being at her bedside, despite it all, I was allowed to care for her the last two weeks of her life and by the Lord’s grace, we found our closure before she transitioned but the mourning of our relationship and time lost continues until this day. I would experience more loss soon after, a village mother and two pets, which only compounded my grief. Then the pandemic hit and of course like many, Covid-19 took some loved ones I thought I’d never be without and I found myself drowning in depression even as I facilitated grief and bereavement support groups for Project WINGS.
Last year I lost my big brother Sean and a childhood friend back to back. The holidays are hard to endure and haven’t been the same for years but I push through for others sake and not my own. It can be daunting to have to smile when inside you are drained and emotional from grieving.
Even as I write this, I’ve experienced the loss of five loved ones since June 2023. A dear cousin that was like a brother, a best friend since seventh grade, a nephew to murder, a father figure/mentor and a young man that had become my earth son the last few years. As much as I try, the world seems so hard and feels so cold dealing with loss. However I heard a saying recently “Grief is the price you pay for loving that person” and Dr. Joseph Smedley tells us that after each loss, you have to reinvent yourself because you are not the same person who was before the loss of a loved one. Having cumulative grief means constantly reinventing myself almost to the point of not recognizing who I am sometimes. I’ve found some solace in therapy, family and friends as my life lines yet sometimes I struggle with feeling like a burden or downer to them, so I tend to isolate which isn’t good for my mental health. Though I still struggle and will continue to fight myself, I offer these tidbits for someone who is dealing with complicated or compounded grief:Therapy
I can’t stress enough the importance of counseling to help with your mental health! You can have theology/religion and therapy too, in fact, I strongly suggest you do both to help heal your overall being. Because grief is also a mental health crisis, it is important to get the tools and resources you need to survive it.Coping Skills
Whatever your healthy coping skill is, use it!
I know people who walk or jog, I know others who are creatives using their talents and some who volunteer for organizations. I’m grateful to be an artist that can utilize some of my gifts to help relieve stress, anxiety and depression. Laughter is also one of my coping skills I utilize to get me through hard times. Coping skills help us to raise our resilience against life stressors. Just a simple act of sitting in the sun, watching a movie, listening to music or helping someone can make you feel better. Find a way to celebrate or honor their lives in some way. Being grateful for their lives, the impact they have in yours and cherishing fond memories.Life lines
Have a circle of family/friends that you can lean on during this time. There is power in reaching out to those who love you and empathize with you. Having a trusted circle that you can go to in times of need is essential to your wellbeing and self-care.Griever’s Rights
You have griever’s rights, use them! I find it necessary to remind myself to be kind and gracious to myself while grieving. That everyone grieves differently and that grief is not a straight line. Look up mental and spiritual health resources that can help you during your grief process. Know that grieving is a unique journey for every individual. Know your grievers rights and honor your grief processing.Prayer and Praise
Pray, Pray and Pray! We are social, biological, psychological and spiritual beings. The journey of healing entails addressing each aspect of our beings and I personally have found that praying daily, listening to mediation and/or praise music helps to stabilize my moods and helps to raise my vibrations against depression. It’s not easy but there are times when I have to literally stay in prayer all day to stay focused, encouraged and to keep my mood up.Self-care
Take care of yourself!
All of the above is self-care and self-care is imperative to the grief process as well as the journey of healing. Sometimes self-care is hard to do when you can’t get out of bed, or just taking a shower seems so overwhelming. In therapy and living through cumulative grief, I’ve discovered that small steps, coping skills and grace for myself aids in my self-care.Loves and Lights, grief is something you don’t get over but live through. For those of us who are experiencing cumulative grief, the journey can often feel endless but after every storm is a rainbow. Sometimes you have to fight extra hard to see or find it, but the rainbow is always there, a promise from The Most High that this too shall pass and that we are not alone. There is help and hope for us if we choose to seek it. As I live out my grieving process, my prayer for myself and for anyone struggling is that you have comfort, grace and strength on your healing journey. That you celebrate Life’s about moments so please don’t give up; stay encouraged and find your joy in every moment and everywhere that you can, while you can.
I love you
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Wow Tamra you have endured a lot of grief and pain. My heart goes out to you. As I was reading this I felt my heartbreak. I have never known about compounded grief until I had read your story. That is a perfect word for someone who has experienced numerous losses in their lifetime. Thank you for creating ways on how to process compounded grief.…read more
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Thank you Cierra for your response and encouragement. Sending you my light and prayers to you on your healing and journey. Grief is never a straight line so we have to be kind to ourselves and be there for another. I’m here if you ever want or need to talk. ❤️
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Cierra Jackson shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 6 months, 1 weeks agoMelancholy
Artistic CiHe just couldn’t stand the “American Dream”
Presence left, his soul never leaves
When I lost my father my vision turned blurry
Flavoring my life even though I lost the strife
I still worry that I can’t hold the knife
Even though God tells me not to withhold it
Wrath of emotions symbolize despondent
How could anyone compare Immune to the heartache
Limbs of despair roaring through the thick air
The air revolve around the painful calamity
Dysphoria chemistry within a distant memory
Wishing human nature could stick to the roots of imagery
A tree of life. A tree of symbolism. A tree of purity. -
Stephanie Thomas shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 6 months, 1 weeks agoI Guess
Stephanie ThomasWhy is Grief alive when the person I love is dead?
Why does Grief taunt and speak when my relationship is quiet, nothing more said?
Grief keeps coming to over power me, over take me, overcome me-
Leave me Grief!
No! You’re all I have left.Stay I Guess
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This is such a powerful letter about grief. Grief has been my best friend since 2014 and has become a bigger monster last year! Grief comes in various forms of faces whether it is sadness, or anger. There are times grief disables our minds our bodies and our voices. I try to run away from it but I am learning to face the fear and battle of grief.…read more
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Anita Williams shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 6 months, 1 weeks agoFrom Heartbreak to Healing: Trusting God's Timing
Anita A WilliamsHave you ever wanted something so deeply, prayed for it for years, and finally had it within your grasp—only for it to be taken away? That kind of loss is indescribable, a pain that shakes your very soul. I’ve seen people in moments like this lose their faith, turn their backs on God, and cry out, “Why me?” But I’ve also learned that the real question is often, “Why not?” What if the denial isn’t punishment, but protection? What if it’s God’s way of preparing us for something far greater than we can see in the moment?
Sometimes, we carry unhealed wounds—trauma buried so deeply it shapes our lives without us even realizing it. Instead of confronting it, we move forward, adding layer upon layer to a foundation that isn’t stable. We pray for blessings, but how can God build something beautiful on ground that’s fractured? Before He gives us what we’re asking for, He often calls us to heal, to prepare for the weight of the blessing. That’s what I’ve come to understand through my own journey.
In 2020, my world was turned upside down. I lost my dad, a man whose presence was a constant in my life. That same year, I ended an eight-year relationship with my fiancé. At the same time, I received a promotion at work—a bittersweet high in the midst of so many lows. Life felt like a chaotic mix of gains and losses, but I buried my pain under work, pretending everything was fine. I kept smiling, kept pushing forward, even though my heart was heavy and my spirit was weary.
Then came 2021, and instead of taking the time to heal, I jumped into a new relationship. At first, it felt like the escape I needed, the fresh start that could make everything better. But I wasn’t okay—I hadn’t dealt with the grief of losing my dad or the pain of my broken engagement. I was running from myself, hoping a new love could fix what was broken inside me.
When I found out I was pregnant, it felt like a sign, like God was finally giving me the joy I had been praying for. My kids were so excited, especially my son with autism, who joyfully spoke about baby clothes and all the things we would do. For a brief moment, it felt like everything was coming together. But that joy was short-lived. The dream was shattered when I was told my baby had passed away.
The loss was devastating, and the weight of it all overwhelmed me. The day before the procedure to remove the baby, I finally broke down, letting out the tears and sorrow I had been suppressing. It was one of the hardest moments of my life, but in that pain, I began to find clarity. As much as I wanted to hold on to the hope of new life, I couldn’t ignore the reality of my situation.
The relationship I was in wasn’t right. My partner wasn’t ready to be the kind of father I needed for my child, and the foundation wasn’t stable enough to support such a blessing. It became clear that God wasn’t denying me; He was protecting me. He wasn’t going to bring new life into chaos or confusion, and as painful as it was to accept, I knew He was saving me from something I wasn’t ready for.
December 10th, a day I had always celebrated as my parents’ anniversary, became a day of deep reflection. Though it was marked by pain, I never lost my faith. Instead, I began to see the spiritual meaning in the loss. Sometimes, the blessings we pray for require preparation. They demand healing, clarity, and a solid foundation. God’s timing is perfect, even when it doesn’t align with our own. What felt like denial wasn’t punishment—it was protection, a reminder that some blessings aren’t meant to come into chaos.
This experience, as painful as it was, taught me strength and patience. It deepened my trust in God’s plan and reminded me that not all delays are denials. I’m still grieving, still healing, but I hold on to the belief that when the time is right, the blessings meant for me will come. And when they do, they’ll come on a foundation that is whole, healed, and ready to embrace them fully.
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I really resonated with the first paragraph in this letter, I was feeling the tormenting of why am I losing a lot of things that I have prayed for but I clicked over to awareness of it is what it is and sometimes we have to let go for better things in life that aligns with our purpose. I am so sorry you went through so many challenges, and am…read more
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Tracie Sperling shared a letter in the
Surviving Addiction group 6 months, 1 weeks agoThis post is viewable by the Unsealed community only.
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Cierra Jackson shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 6 months, 2 weeks ago“Hey Dad”
As you ascend high be
my devotional eye
that watch over my lifeBad memories will not
be nebulous to
my mind, my vision alignsClose to your mint
euphoria essence so vigorous
and divine your presence left behindDust from coarse remains that
gusts new leaf of imagery
that never leaves my sight myEyes mirrors dauntless
mist that shallows
amongst the billows of the skiesForget-me-nots floods
the humus but
strife leads to fragileGenerosity that appears
while restless thoughts
fills the atmosphereHopeless drives but
you still shine through the darkest
times, please fill my hearts hemisphereIgnore the burdens
that’s big as the bruins
over conquer my fearsJustice unleashes
the chambers of resentment
bring back the contentment -
sciifly shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 6 months, 2 weeks agoPipita
Sandra MartiniRest in Peace Pipita
Like a precious bottle of Malbec~ from the vineyards of Argentina Vintage 1928.
Her hair is stunning red, roots deep brown with traces of white.
The lines on her face emphasized the years of laughter and tears. So many stories of the old Argentine neighborhood she speaks about~ I see these stories in her lines.
Her expressions are truth.Her hands remind me of an atlas map
Tracing veins like blue rivers with finely detailed “lunars” (known in English as beauty marks) properly positioned.
The jewelry she is adorned in brightly shines
Even after so many years without polish
Her gentle smile reminds me of her youth and vibrancy“I am not afraid” she recited to me once “When God calls for me, I will answer”
Her spirit makes life worth living.
Looking forward to old age.
With my heart and soul, I am a reflection of her.She is my GRAND-Mother.
Bendicion~ 🙏
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I really admire the comparison between nature and your grandmother. By reading your poem I can feel that your grandmother was truly rooted and connected to her spiritual being! She is shining over you everyday, proud of how you are writing beautiful poetry about her presence on Earth. Thank you for your inspiration for others who are going through…read more
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James/Maintain4life shared a letter in the
Surviving Addiction group 6 months, 3 weeks agoThis post is viewable by the Unsealed community only.
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Rose Dreamera shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 6 months, 3 weeks agonever take love lightly
never take love lightly
remember that
the world you know today
could, and will shift in an instantbe courageous enough
to love so deeply
that you’ll go the extra mile
to create beautiful memories
with the people you cherish
and involve all of your senses
in being present with themtell them that you love them
but don’t stop there
learn what to do for the ones
who’s lives matter most to you
seek what makes them feel loved
listen to what touches their hearts
and see them shine brighter
as you learn to speak
their languagestart with giving yourself
all of that care
because if anyone deserves it
so do you
then spread that love around you-
Hi Rose, thank you so much for sharing what love truly is and giving insight on how we can share love amongst those who are around us. I was reading in another post and the words resonated to me so well “unadulterated love”. I feel like that ties into unconditional love just truly loving someone the way that they are because we never know what…read more
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Am! I’m really thankful for your message. It feels good to know that my words resonated with you. ^^
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Anita Williams shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 6 months, 3 weeks agoThe Weight of Grief: My Journey
Anita A WilliamsMy grief began on January 20th, 2020, the day my dad passed away unexpectedly. His death shook my world to its core. Before he passed, I was on a journey of self-discovery. I was losing weight, exercising, building routines, and trying to figure out who I was. At the time, I was still in a relationship I knew I needed to leave, and I thought I was getting closer to freeing myself from it. But when my dad died, it felt like a part of me died with him. I had never been without him, and I didn’t know how to live without his presence in my life.
Instead of facing my grief, I did what I always did: I went back to work two weeks later. Work became my way of coping—a distraction from the deep pain I didn’t want to confront. This became a pattern in my life. Whenever tragedy or loss struck, I buried myself in work to avoid the pain.
After my dad passed, I ended a long relationship with someone I deeply loved—the first person who ever loved me correctly. From there, I found myself in relationships I never should have been in, all while grieving and ignoring the emotions I desperately needed to face.
Then, on December 10, 2021, I faced another devastating loss: the baby I had prayed for passed away. I woke up that day with my baby still inside me, no longer alive. I had to go to the hospital to have my child removed, and after that heart-wrenching experience, I went right back to work—this time at the prison where I was employed. That environment was already filled with stress and negativity—not just from the inmates but from the staff as well. Yet, I threw myself back into work instead of confronting my grief.
More loss followed. My dad’s brother passed, and once again, I buried the pain under work. But this year, God made me sit down. He placed me in a season of isolation where I couldn’t run from my emotions anymore. I had to deal with everything I had been avoiding: the grief, the unhealthy patterns, and the trauma I had been carrying for years.
I ended a three-year relationship, began setting boundaries, and started addressing the pain I had ignored for so long. Day by day, I’ve been working through it. It hasn’t been easy, but with each step, it’s getting better. I’m learning that healing is a process, and I’m finally allowing myself to feel, to grieve, and to grow.
This year has been about progress. While I still have a long way to go, I know I’m moving in the right direction. And for that, I am grateful.
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TaMara E'Lan G. shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 6 months, 4 weeks agoI held her to me: Mommy
TaMara E'Lan G.The storm had finally arrived after brewing in a silent sea of delusion for far too long. The wind of truth blew fiercely against us all and the rain that fell endlessly were indeed our tears. The clouds drifted across an amber sky of clustered thoughts that hid the sunlight that day.
Yet still I held her to me.
I spoke of angels and good Soul food, whispered love and affirmations in her ear, and kissed her lips. Memories like morning dew covered and saturated my heart.
Yet still I held her to me.
Not knowing that she felt me or even knew who I was any longer because the time was at hand. Her breathing was shallow and yet the life she had lived spoke volumes throughout her transitioning. There was no more time for abandonment issues or thoughts of past transgressions; no space for generational strongholds to reinforce trauma bonding. For soon she would be gone, embraced by the light and Angels she adored. “Thank you” she had told me a mere few days ago as I cared for her, cleaning her and playing her favorite music. “I love you” she had said words that I thought I would never hear her say again after our estrangement.
Yet still I held her to me.
The embrace gave us both the closure that we needed and sought from each other. This day the hospice nurse comes to pull us out of the dark room “Give her space to transition” she said, “often loved ones won’t transition when being watched.” At the time, and in my grief, I thought that was odd of her to say. However when we went back into the room, I touched my mommy’s cooling skin and her stillness almost frightens me, yet it was then that I knew she was gone.
Yet still I held her to me.
Emotions too deep to express escaped us as we gathered around the shell that once housed her spirit. She had joined the ancestors that now danced in the wind beyond this realm. And as the years and time attempt to comfort us all in her absence, as she comes to visit us in dreams to hold dear with our memories, when moments too big for explanation are captured – my thoughts are of our last hug, when still I held her to me.-
Thank you so much for being such a wonderful light and sharing your insight and outlet through grief. I believe it’s so important to find a helpful and healing outlet through the journey of grief. Reading this brought back memories of my father. I also love your imagery in this piece. Thank you so much for sharing.
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beyondbarriers shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 7 months agoThis post is viewable by the Unsealed community only.
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James/Maintain4life shared a letter in the
Surviving Addiction group 7 months agoThis post is viewable by the Unsealed community only.
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Matthew Jablonsky shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 7 months agoBroken New Years
Matthew L JablonskyThe year is almost over,
And another will soon start.
This year, however,
I’ll begin with a broken heart.I’m missing my loved ones,
My friends who’ve recently passed.
I miss their sweet voices,
Their smiles and their laughs.It was supposed to be a Merry Christmas!
Another photo in the album!
Then suddenly that changed,
to the first Christmas without ’em…I screamed up at God,
“CAN YOU JUST TELL ME WHY?”
“ARE YOU EVEN UP THERE?!”
“AM I JUST YELLING AT THE SKY?!?!”I fell to my knees,
and started punching at the ground.
When suddenly I realized…
My loved one’s are all around…They’re right here with me,
Feeling all this pain.
Does that mean they feel the sunshine?
Does it mean they feel the rain?Maybe they’re not as gone,
As the world seems to say.
Maybe they’re right beside me…
Every night and every day!If they’re here with me,
Guiding my every move…
Then I know that I can make it!
Because there’s nothing they can’t do!This poem is dedicated in loving memory to my friends Alex Wisniewski, Joe Ewer, and Tammy Pouliot, but it goes out to anyone who has lost a loved one.
You are not alone. ❤️❤️❤️
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Wow, this poem almost brought me to tears. Your words are very heartfelt and gave me insight that I am not alone on this grieving journey. At times, I scream and feel alone. But I am learning that there are other people who understand the grieving process and that it is not easy. Thank you for your kind words and confidence in sharing your…read more
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Hey Matt, I watched my father slowly pass from lung cancer. And my mom is only getting older. Three cousins passed,2 were younger than me and passed due to drug addiction. And a bunch of guys I grew up around do to gun violence. But one thing I learned in recovery is life don’t get better we get better at life.
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Shelby Warren Gomez shared a letter in the
Surviving Addiction group 7 months agoThis post is viewable by the Unsealed community only.
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Barbara Lorello shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 7 months agoDear Bernie Marcus
Love, BarbDear Bernie Marcus:
I met you in 2014, when I got recruited by the company you and Arthur Blank started back in the 1970’s. That story came to life in your book “Built from Scratch.”
If anyone told me that my life’s mission would be in a hardware store, I would have told them they were crazy, but it has been the place where God placed me to do his work.
When my children were young, my ex-husband didn’t want me to work. That was the time I got the volunteering bug. It felt so good to give back, and I went all out; I volunteered full time at my children’s school. I also volunteered in a nature preserve studying endangered plants and served on several boards.
While I was going through my divorce, another talent surfaced. I realized I had a knack for encouraging young people to reach their potential to be the best version of themselves. I could teach them how to be great leaders, care for their people, and love the company they worked for. This came in the form of tough love, empathy, and compassion for the trials that young people face as they grow.I started this part of my journey with an electronics company with a yellow tag for their logo. I honed my skills and blossomed in that environment. At the time, that company was struggling to find its place. Five restructurings in six years had me questioning my future. It was divine intervention when a recruiter from your company came into my yellow tag store and asked my boss if he had any talent that was affected by the most recent restructure; he gave her my name.
Both these skills led me through ten years of working for you, using God given natural craft to make each store I worked in just a little better. I’ve been able to develop leaders who will continue to make your company strong into the future. You’ve allowed me to give back to our community through writing grants for veterans and those in need.
God knew what he was doing when he brought us together. Working for you also gave me the opportunity to hear people’s stories. For some reason, people gravitate to me and tell me their stories, most consist of life’s struggles. It gives me an opportunity to slow down, offer a shoulder to cry on, and a hug to ease their pain.
Bernie, although we never met in person, your legacy is commendable. You’ve helped make thousands of blue-collar people become millionaires. Your foundations, created before and after your time in service, are still strong and help thousands of people every day. This will all live on in your memory, and we will keep your legacy alive.
I am deeply honored to work for your company. RIP, Bernie, you did it well.
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