Wonderful piece of writing. I love your detail work, you don’t push the emotions, you just describe the situation and let the emotion take care of itself. Nice work.
Numbers can take on such powerful and personal meanings for us. How sorry I am for the loss of your brother, at such a young age. The pain, I’m sure, is with you constantly. And to be approaching his age is one more reminder. I wish I had words to comfort you. You are in my thoughts.
First and foremost, brava for posting this and opening your Substack to the world. I love the photography, the message, and of course, the writing. Great job communicating and connecting despite your deep loss. I have so much more to add but will move my comments to a personal thread. I'm incredibly proud of you. Well done.
Colleen, thank you! You are my model for personal bravery and writing from the heart. You have such great strength and wisdom. Your writing is amazing, and so are you.
All who love and lose, not the love but the body of the beloved, come to see they were blessed to be one flesh, and now not...yet we press against memories insubstantial ... longing to communicate beyond the veil ... so perhaps they do it better. And more winsomely since rainbows carry many promises, including ones from God-- be not afraid. I am with you. And that too is the beloved sending their message of hope. See beauty and remember well. Be blessed. Take a new path. Take time to pray. Greet the sunrise. Find friends to hike with and make memories, especially enjoy your daughter. Cherish the time and the grace of good memories and that silk nightgown given, the light touch and the man who loves you on the other side of God’s rainbow.
I feel you...my heart hurts reading this. Beautiful writing straight from the depths of your soul! It’s been ten years since I became a widow...I wrote it down/raw details and all. Maybe I’ll share here one day. I can tell you it never goes away...but it does get better, easier. Hugs
Thank you for this, Joan. I am keeping a journal, writing down the things that felt important during my husband’s illness and death. I started reading it yesterday, and was astonished by how little I remembered, or remembered incorrectly. I’m sorry for your loss, and so very grateful to hear that it gets better with time. Hugs to you, too!
It’s not easy to call yourself a writer. What’s a writer, anyway? My definition: someone who thinks in stories and sees them everywhere. You are a writer. I’ll read more.
I just discovered you, and absolutely adore and resonate with this piece so much. Please, keep sharing your unique gifts - the world needs your special magic. Beautifully evocative and heartfelt. I trust and pray your pain eases a tiny bit each day, being replaced by peace and beautiful memories.
Mary, I am glad to know you through your exquisitely honest and searching prose. Calling oneself a writer is an act of courage, especially for women. When Alice Munro became famous around the world, she struggled to call herself a writer. She never had a room of her own. Yes, I will continue to speak of her.
Thank you, Rona! I’m so glad that I got to know you through Substack. Thank you for your advice the other day re: publishing the less-than perfect. I couldn’t imagine going back to the beginning and reposting my first essay. Glad I revisited it. A great reminder of what got me here in the first place. A year! Much love and gratitude to you.🙏❤️🫶
I haven't read something as touching and beautiful as this essay, in a very long time. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you, Nino! I’m humbled and honored by your generous comments. I’m looking forward to reading your work!
Oh, thank you so much, Mary, I hope you enjoy it, and I'm looking forward to reading more of your beautiful writing.
Have no doubt, Mary. Your writing is exquisite...
Love your ironic humor. The Irish are always looking for signs, too.
MKM
Mary, I thought about you and your Irish wisdom. Thanks for your kind words!
Wonderful piece of writing. I love your detail work, you don’t push the emotions, you just describe the situation and let the emotion take care of itself. Nice work.
Thank you, Jeff. It’s a journey. Kind of like hiking, always having to balance the weight in the backpack and not slip on the trail.
This month I'm turning 42 and I'm having a hard time with it because my brother was 42 when he died of cancer.
Numbers can take on such powerful and personal meanings for us. How sorry I am for the loss of your brother, at such a young age. The pain, I’m sure, is with you constantly. And to be approaching his age is one more reminder. I wish I had words to comfort you. You are in my thoughts.
Mary,
First and foremost, brava for posting this and opening your Substack to the world. I love the photography, the message, and of course, the writing. Great job communicating and connecting despite your deep loss. I have so much more to add but will move my comments to a personal thread. I'm incredibly proud of you. Well done.
Colleen Burns Durda
Colleen, thank you! You are my model for personal bravery and writing from the heart. You have such great strength and wisdom. Your writing is amazing, and so are you.
A lovely piece of writing - I look forward to much more.
Thank you, Bill. Your kind words give me strength.
Thank you, Mary ❤ 🤗
I’m glad you’re here.
All who love and lose, not the love but the body of the beloved, come to see they were blessed to be one flesh, and now not...yet we press against memories insubstantial ... longing to communicate beyond the veil ... so perhaps they do it better. And more winsomely since rainbows carry many promises, including ones from God-- be not afraid. I am with you. And that too is the beloved sending their message of hope. See beauty and remember well. Be blessed. Take a new path. Take time to pray. Greet the sunrise. Find friends to hike with and make memories, especially enjoy your daughter. Cherish the time and the grace of good memories and that silk nightgown given, the light touch and the man who loves you on the other side of God’s rainbow.
What a beautiful comment. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with such tender and loving words.
I feel you...my heart hurts reading this. Beautiful writing straight from the depths of your soul! It’s been ten years since I became a widow...I wrote it down/raw details and all. Maybe I’ll share here one day. I can tell you it never goes away...but it does get better, easier. Hugs
Thank you for this, Joan. I am keeping a journal, writing down the things that felt important during my husband’s illness and death. I started reading it yesterday, and was astonished by how little I remembered, or remembered incorrectly. I’m sorry for your loss, and so very grateful to hear that it gets better with time. Hugs to you, too!
It’s not easy to call yourself a writer. What’s a writer, anyway? My definition: someone who thinks in stories and sees them everywhere. You are a writer. I’ll read more.
Thank you, Rona! I’m glad you’re here.
I'm very upset because I am crying into my buritto at work right now and it doesn't need any more salt. 🖤
This really moved me Mary. And yes, Death Doula exist, I know one. :)
I just discovered you, and absolutely adore and resonate with this piece so much. Please, keep sharing your unique gifts - the world needs your special magic. Beautifully evocative and heartfelt. I trust and pray your pain eases a tiny bit each day, being replaced by peace and beautiful memories.
Kathleen, I’m so glad you’re here. Thank you for your kind words. It’s wonderful to know that I’m not alone in this journey. Hugs.❤️
I love this, Mary. I’m going to message you. I’d like to share a story with you.
Can’t wait, Nan! Thanks for reading!🙏❤️
Mary, I am glad to know you through your exquisitely honest and searching prose. Calling oneself a writer is an act of courage, especially for women. When Alice Munro became famous around the world, she struggled to call herself a writer. She never had a room of her own. Yes, I will continue to speak of her.
Thank you, Rona! I’m so glad that I got to know you through Substack. Thank you for your advice the other day re: publishing the less-than perfect. I couldn’t imagine going back to the beginning and reposting my first essay. Glad I revisited it. A great reminder of what got me here in the first place. A year! Much love and gratitude to you.🙏❤️🫶