Thank you, thank you so very much for sharing this post. It filled a hole in my heart that’s hard to explain but that looks similar to parts of your story. You did such a good and powerful thing here. Thank you again. Sending you hugs.🫶
You foraged well finding Keurig, lighter fluid, necessities, and Aquavit tracing the river and winding by your home where the ashes sat in their black box. I loved this piece.
I can never figure out Kurigs either! Those contraptions are totally beyond me. And a (very, very belated) congratulations on the accolades that SMOKE collected. You are a great writer indeed :)
Jenna! I’m so glad you’re here. It’s been a while. Glad to hear I’m not the only one who believes that Keurigs are the devil. Thank you for sharing your generous comments. I’m deeply honored.🙏
Manuela, thank you for your patience, and your generous comments. I despaired that this story would ever make it into the world. I’m glad it connected with you. Grief matters. Our stories matter. I appreciate your sharing this post.
Oh, my word. Your words. You're the most stunning writer. I love your work. What a story, what fabulous craft. You're a gem.
PS. I never read instructions on appliances, or anything I have to assemble or use. It's never a good call, but I'm stubborn. I laughed out loud when I read that. Love you, Mary.
Nan, I’d be shocked to see you reading the instructions to anything. You definitely make your own way. Thank you, again, for listening and helping me through the challenge of getting this onto the page. I’m humbled by your comments. Coming from such a fine storyteller, they mean a lot. Love you, too.
I may make my own way...but that sometimes includes making a mess, because I can't get out of my own way. And, pshaw! I'd love to learn from you, you're in a class by yourself as far as skill is concerned. Waiting for the full-length memoir, my dear. xo
Nan, getting in your own way is a strength. You have a big heart, and you lead with it. I’m still taking baby steps. Yes, the memoir’s coming. Learning bravery from you.
That ending hit with me in such a similar way. I keep going back to my wife’s “last wishes” for me. Amongst them was “never stop writing, fall in love again and don’t forget to clean behind the sink.” Almost all in one breath. Two of three are a continuing work in progress, while I answered to that third, “if it finds me I’ll be open to it.” That’s the most I could promise to that. That statement by your husband is the true definition of love. Thank you for taking your time getting this one right!
Brian, isn’t it uncanny how those last days and moments stay with us? I think the dying can sometimes bring us to a reckoning with our own lives that shocks us into a profound understanding and sense of purpose. We are on similar paths. I appreciate your generosity, and your patience! These past few days have been an immersion in strong emotions. I wasn’t sure if I’d get any sleep again, ever, much less get this into the page. Now I can buckle down in CWC. Thanks for the accountability.
My journey has been so similar.. it’s uncanny. That’s where the similarity ends however. Whereas one still have to figure out how to begin.. you are(as your friend Jenny states so simply)already a great writer. Please keep writing Mary.
Kavita, I’m honored by your remarks. And I hope you know that there’s always a light within us that allows us to keep moving forward. Cherish your gift. Let all of your stories win.
Please go easy on yourself. Grief rearranges everything. Aside from what you have left behind (the coffee,the ashes) what has returned are your words and your ability to weave gold from your grief. Sending love and solidarity on the journey that continues ahead. 🙏🏻 laura
Laura, such humbling and generous remarks. I hope to befriend pain - the hidden story, the secret sharer - and let all of the stories win. Love to you too.🫶
Beautifully written Mary. This is a tough time of year for many grievers, I know it is for me. I seem to have lost my words, I feel lost. Thank you for being so vulnerable. I appreciate you and your friendship so much. XO 🥰❤️
Amy. It is a hard time. Your words are there; I’ve been reading your work, so I know! I’m learning, again, that the holidays make us vulnerable. But I believe that they can also act as the thin places, that teach us that joy is behind hardship and suffering. Maybe that the meaning and purpose of these events surrounding the solstice. Love you lots, Amy. DM me anytime.❤️🫶💕
So many complicated feelings all jumbled in the way only grief makes happen. His remembering your first published story while in hospice and his message to you felt so full of love. But the best line is how you treated your dead husband like a box of Cocoa Puffs. Levity appreciated.
Ah, Mary, such radical honesty in this piece again. Loved those glimpses of your story and how you wove them in, and how it all came together at the end. Keep going...
Mary, thank you for listening to my story as I struggle to understand it. You have such great insight, having been there yourself. I admire your courage and clarity in going deep into your own family story, your understanding of the way events give us choices, and that challenges give us character. I have some thoughts about my recent freakout and where it came from, and what it means. We’ll talk soon.
I love the way this story unfolds within itself. It circles inward and reveals layers of connection between you, your husband, the river, the fire and writing itself. That one word statement of his sent chills. I’m so glad you’ve heeded his suggestion. We’re all so much better off because of it. This story within a story resonated with me. A loaded tale leaving me curious to know more about your relationship with the written word. Absolutely fascinating.
Colleen, you are so perceptive and attuned. All of the elements were there; it was in writing the story (and boy, did it take a lot out of me) that I was hit by the thought of the “secret sharer” as in Conrad’s story. I have to read it again. I’ve always been struck by his deep insights, that we all have a stowaway inside of us, and that you need to recognize and feed both the light and the shadow within. Both wolves, in other words. I know that the holidays are hectic (good lord, how do you do it?) but if there’s time, we should have a good talk.
This was beautiful. Grief is stress, and stress makes holes in your brain. Give yourself grace.
Thank you, Lou.
Thank you, thank you so very much for sharing this post. It filled a hole in my heart that’s hard to explain but that looks similar to parts of your story. You did such a good and powerful thing here. Thank you again. Sending you hugs.🫶
Hugs to you, Lizzy. I’m glad this connected with you.💕
You foraged well finding Keurig, lighter fluid, necessities, and Aquavit tracing the river and winding by your home where the ashes sat in their black box. I loved this piece.
Thank you, Ginevra.🙏
Yes. Stories bring other stories, those that hide but need to be told. Beautiful!
Rachel, I’m honored. I’m so glad that this connected with you. May all of our stories come out from the shadows.🫶
I can never figure out Kurigs either! Those contraptions are totally beyond me. And a (very, very belated) congratulations on the accolades that SMOKE collected. You are a great writer indeed :)
Jenna! I’m so glad you’re here. It’s been a while. Glad to hear I’m not the only one who believes that Keurigs are the devil. Thank you for sharing your generous comments. I’m deeply honored.🙏
I was so excited to find part 2 in my inbox this morning. It was well worth the wait.
I loved how you intertwined a previously written story with the new one.
Thank you for sharing your heart with us about your grief! It matters.
Manuela, thank you for your patience, and your generous comments. I despaired that this story would ever make it into the world. I’m glad it connected with you. Grief matters. Our stories matter. I appreciate your sharing this post.
Oh, my word. Your words. You're the most stunning writer. I love your work. What a story, what fabulous craft. You're a gem.
PS. I never read instructions on appliances, or anything I have to assemble or use. It's never a good call, but I'm stubborn. I laughed out loud when I read that. Love you, Mary.
Nan, I’d be shocked to see you reading the instructions to anything. You definitely make your own way. Thank you, again, for listening and helping me through the challenge of getting this onto the page. I’m humbled by your comments. Coming from such a fine storyteller, they mean a lot. Love you, too.
I may make my own way...but that sometimes includes making a mess, because I can't get out of my own way. And, pshaw! I'd love to learn from you, you're in a class by yourself as far as skill is concerned. Waiting for the full-length memoir, my dear. xo
Nan, getting in your own way is a strength. You have a big heart, and you lead with it. I’m still taking baby steps. Yes, the memoir’s coming. Learning bravery from you.
Big hug, big, big hug. You're the bomb! xo
That ending hit with me in such a similar way. I keep going back to my wife’s “last wishes” for me. Amongst them was “never stop writing, fall in love again and don’t forget to clean behind the sink.” Almost all in one breath. Two of three are a continuing work in progress, while I answered to that third, “if it finds me I’ll be open to it.” That’s the most I could promise to that. That statement by your husband is the true definition of love. Thank you for taking your time getting this one right!
Brian, isn’t it uncanny how those last days and moments stay with us? I think the dying can sometimes bring us to a reckoning with our own lives that shocks us into a profound understanding and sense of purpose. We are on similar paths. I appreciate your generosity, and your patience! These past few days have been an immersion in strong emotions. I wasn’t sure if I’d get any sleep again, ever, much less get this into the page. Now I can buckle down in CWC. Thanks for the accountability.
My journey has been so similar.. it’s uncanny. That’s where the similarity ends however. Whereas one still have to figure out how to begin.. you are(as your friend Jenny states so simply)already a great writer. Please keep writing Mary.
Kavita, I’m honored by your remarks. And I hope you know that there’s always a light within us that allows us to keep moving forward. Cherish your gift. Let all of your stories win.
Dear Mary
Please go easy on yourself. Grief rearranges everything. Aside from what you have left behind (the coffee,the ashes) what has returned are your words and your ability to weave gold from your grief. Sending love and solidarity on the journey that continues ahead. 🙏🏻 laura
Laura, such humbling and generous remarks. I hope to befriend pain - the hidden story, the secret sharer - and let all of the stories win. Love to you too.🫶
Beautifully written Mary. This is a tough time of year for many grievers, I know it is for me. I seem to have lost my words, I feel lost. Thank you for being so vulnerable. I appreciate you and your friendship so much. XO 🥰❤️
Amy. It is a hard time. Your words are there; I’ve been reading your work, so I know! I’m learning, again, that the holidays make us vulnerable. But I believe that they can also act as the thin places, that teach us that joy is behind hardship and suffering. Maybe that the meaning and purpose of these events surrounding the solstice. Love you lots, Amy. DM me anytime.❤️🫶💕
Your words and the scenes and feelings they describe are somehow a warm blanket that envelops me as I read. And then I want to read more.
Thank you, Kathleen. You are so kind.🙏
So many complicated feelings all jumbled in the way only grief makes happen. His remembering your first published story while in hospice and his message to you felt so full of love. But the best line is how you treated your dead husband like a box of Cocoa Puffs. Levity appreciated.
Jill, levity is what sees us through! It just felt like an apt observation, given the context. Thank you for your close reading and incisive comments.
Oh Mary...I'm so glad you listened, so glad you're writing again. 🤗
Julie, thank you! I think it was a gift from my husband to hold my feet to the fire. Seems I have no choice but to write.😊
He continues to influence. In a wonderful way. Let those words flow...
Ah, Mary, such radical honesty in this piece again. Loved those glimpses of your story and how you wove them in, and how it all came together at the end. Keep going...
Mary, thank you for listening to my story as I struggle to understand it. You have such great insight, having been there yourself. I admire your courage and clarity in going deep into your own family story, your understanding of the way events give us choices, and that challenges give us character. I have some thoughts about my recent freakout and where it came from, and what it means. We’ll talk soon.
Mary,
I love the way this story unfolds within itself. It circles inward and reveals layers of connection between you, your husband, the river, the fire and writing itself. That one word statement of his sent chills. I’m so glad you’ve heeded his suggestion. We’re all so much better off because of it. This story within a story resonated with me. A loaded tale leaving me curious to know more about your relationship with the written word. Absolutely fascinating.
Colleen, you are so perceptive and attuned. All of the elements were there; it was in writing the story (and boy, did it take a lot out of me) that I was hit by the thought of the “secret sharer” as in Conrad’s story. I have to read it again. I’ve always been struck by his deep insights, that we all have a stowaway inside of us, and that you need to recognize and feed both the light and the shadow within. Both wolves, in other words. I know that the holidays are hectic (good lord, how do you do it?) but if there’s time, we should have a good talk.