• commented on Truth in a Weedwacker 2018-05-31 16:25:35 -0700
    Oh my gosh, Olivia, I love this post, on so many levels! I love that line, “I don’t live in a fairy tale, and I don’t want to pretend that I do”. Like so many of us, I can so relate to living in the fairy tale in the past, and quite honestly, loving it, and being willing to “play all our roles” so happily, in our happy bubbles. But it is like our rose-colored glasses were literally ripped off our eyes. And we were literally forced to realize that the fairy tale is over, and there is no fairy tale. So why would I pretend?
    I also love the way you wanted to preserve the past, by not touching it. And were so aware of what you were so carefully doing, and honoring it. So hauntingly familiar, yet in my shock and numbness, I don’t know that I would have had so much awareness of what I was actually feeling or trying to do. Thank you for articulating that all we want to do sometimes is preserve the past, and remember that they were just here.

  • commented on You Have Been my Best Surprise 2018-05-13 10:10:57 -0700
    This is beautiful! Your insights into your vulnerabilities have so much depth, and so many beautiful layers. They help all of us on this new widowhood journey to understand our own vulnerabilities and give us strength knowing that pushing through them has many amazing rewards. Thank you!

  • commented on Your Not Here 2018-05-10 10:22:00 -0700
    This is beautiful. And captures the feelings so poignantly for us. Thank you.

  • commented on Live Life 2018-04-25 10:18:44 -0700
    Wendy, I am “catching up” reading on these older posts. I don’t know if you will receive this. But thank you so much for YOUR willingness to live an authentically bold life by facing the fear and sharing with us all the feelings behind it! Right now my family is sort of laughing AT me, at my obsessive controllingness with a basement key I won’t let go of, as my late husband’s (wow, never used that term before, can’t say I like it at all) beloved wine collection is in my grandmother’s basement. I can’t stop myself. I just tell myself they don’t get it and never will. Then I start to feel so badly about myself which causes more anxiety. But this post makes me realize that we’re really not crazy, just grief doing its thing.

    Thank you for all your posts! I miss them! Hope you’re doing okay! (P.S. Your post about the photos for a dating site were hilarious. My feelings were the same as yours, but I gave up before the photos. I still think about getting a cat)!

  • commented on Fierce Love 2018-04-23 09:35:06 -0700
    Gabe, Love this. Pretty much sums it all up in a nutshell. Thanks for this.

  • commented on Make Your Past 2018-04-18 10:31:03 -0700
    Mike, thank you so much for this. I really really needed this today. It sums up what I have been needing and wanting to hear for so long, from someone who is ahead of the curve, of me (I am 18 months post-loss of my soulmate-husband). I feel I have been stuck at a crossroads for some time, for a long time. But I love that line where you pretty much say, ‘moving forward (love that, not moving on) is a way of saying we’ve made new memories, without destroying our past, it’s honoring those we’ve lost by not letting their loss ruin the rest of our lives without them’. I think I’ve been sort of frozen, afraid to move at all, period, for what it might do to me, or to the past, or some other scary unknown that I can’t identify. I want to try to be ready to move forward, with new memories, it’s scary though, the emotion of it. But there are lots of people ahead of me, to tell me what it’s like. That it’s OK, it will be OK. That it won’t make our time with our loved ones disappear, or become insignificant, or forgotten, or make it ‘OK’ they’re gone (though I do ultimately want acceptance of it), or any one of many unknowns in my head. Hopefully, I will someday feel it will even honor them in a way, in a certain light, though I have a ways to go with that. Thank you again.

  • rsvped for SAN FRANCISCO BAY AREA, CALIFORNIA 2018-04-04 11:50:48 -0700


    Join our San Francisco Bay Area Soaring Spirits group if you live in the area or even if you're just visiting!  RSVP here if you'd like more information.

    Note:  Please disregard date noted on this group event placeholder. Individual events will be posted for the specific meeting dates.

    December 31, 2018 at 6pm
    San Francisco, CA
    United States
    Google map and directions
    9 rsvps rsvp

  • commented on The Echo 2018-04-04 11:42:10 -0700
    Kelley, this is excellent, so perfectly describing our loss(es). Thank you.

  • commented on My Bubble 2018-03-24 18:36:22 -0700
    Stephanie, I know just how you feel. Thank you for putting words to my feelings, our feelings, so eloquently and perfectly.

  • commented on Having All Your Birthdays in One Day 2018-03-22 10:56:48 -0700
    Staci, Wishing you strength and love today.

  • commented on This Particular and Peculiar Sense of Non-being~ 2018-03-10 12:09:09 -0800
    Oh my gosh, thank you for this post! Sixteen months in now, I feel like the awkwardness and socially ineptness is only getting worse, not better! It’s scary. At least, in the beginning, after my husband passed, I think I had more memory of how to be, and act, and had better memories of who I was, and a stronger sense of self, just because it (I) was all fresher in my mind. As time goes on, I feel like my sense of self has gotten weaker, and it all gets more awkward, and painful. I feel like my self-esteem, not predicated upon being married to the greatest guy that ever lived, and loved like I didn’t know was possible to feel, has plummeted to the depths of not knowing what to be predicated on, anymore. I alternate from being very overly confident in social situations, to painfully insecure, and beating myself up endlessly for decisions and words created without a guidebook on how to be in the world afresh now, and now I question who I am (maybe, just maybe, that’s the point of it all, which is my only light in the tunnel of this darkness). Though I do grow concerned if I am being judged or disliked, as they can’t possibly know the knife of loneliness, and aloneness, we feel, that it’s all based on. I guess our loved ones will just have to keep on loving us through this, and we, ourselves. It’s not easy stuff we tackle.

  • commented on Vacation 2018-03-08 09:12:34 -0800
    Oh my gosh, Olivia, you have written so beautifully about what it is SO like for us, for me since my husband died, the mix of complicated emotions at every moment. Also, my biggest fear is that it will ALWAYS be like this, for the rest of my life. Will happiness always be laced with sadness, missing them, anger they’re not here, hurt at seeing reminders everywhere of what we’ve lost, all mixed in with a beautiful day, or happy or laughing moments? It just makes me want to break down thinking about it. How to make sense out of all of it. But maybe we can all sort it out together. Keep us posted on how you translate it all into a beautiful trip. April

  • commented on Malbec Part 2 2018-03-06 16:00:42 -0800
    Hi Staci, I read this yesterday, and it was so helpful. I’ve had Rumi’s quote up on my fridge for weeks. I just wanted to inhale his words into my soul, so the words would become true for me all the time, but I didn’t know how to feel his words for longer than a few moments. But your post gave me an idea, as I loved those lines, “Mike is so far beyond nothing. He is now everything”. Yesterday, I focused on knowing that he was everywhere I went, everywhere I looked, he was there in that moment. That he is IN the wind, the sun, the trees, the air, the clouds, and in every speck of beauty. He IS the beauty, the wind, the sun, the trees, the sky, the clouds. He, his love, was EVERYWHERE I looked, everything I saw. And it lasted all day. It was such a high, I couldn’t even fall asleep. Sometimes, something like that where I try to change my perspective, is short-lived. But not yesterday. I think it helped to use physical senses to make that bridge to a more spiritual connection… Today, some of the emptiness is back, but not as profoundly. I still have some of the high. I will always keep at it, till it’s “normal”! Anyway, I just wanted to share my experience in case it helps, and say thank you! We are similar, or parallel, in our journeys in some ways, as I saw in your previous post, that my husband passed away only 20 days before yours.

  • commented on Coming Along for the Ride 2018-03-04 11:57:25 -0800
    Kelley, thank you for this incredibly powerful post. Powerful in many ways, but especially in a HEALING way.
    That’s really everything, isn’t it? Knowing that they are always moving WITH us. Never us moving on, or away FROM them.
    I especially love that line, “He will never leave me again.”
    Maybe, just maybe we have it all backwards. We think they LEFT us, and we feel abandoned and alone. But I think, sometimes, nothing could be further from the truth. It’s actually the complete opposite, I think.
    I can stay in that knowing for a while, as my soul basks in the truth, completely utterly relaxed and at peace. And I know that it’s the truth because of how I feel, and that feeling can’t be faked, or come from imaginings, or wishful thinking. It’s my soul, knowing, remembering, for me.
    But then, womp, I’m in the depths of despair, of aloneness, and abandonedness, again.
    I LOVE your yellow truck signs. My signs have followed me from my old home to my new home, and new work, as well. I have new address labels sent in the mail from some organization, with his name on them. I see them, and think, yup, it’s true.
    I love your post, because I love being reminded of what is the truth. If I could just stay in that KNOWING all the time. Thank you for the reminder.

  • commented on All Paths Lead Somewhere 2018-03-03 11:11:52 -0800
    Gabe, I love these lines: “Sometimes I have to be still for a moment and realize that I’m moving forward, despite the fact I can see nothing in front of me. It can be discouraging when you can’t see the destination.” This beautifully sums up life for us in grieving, doesn’t it? I will focus on this feeling all day, and just try to be okay with it. Thank you.

  • commented on The Power of This 4 Letter Word~ 2018-03-02 16:38:33 -0800
    Alison, Thank you for this. I really needed this today. I really needed something that would or could soothe my aching heart. That’s a tall order. But that line, ‘loving you, my beloved, was worth all that is my now’…. Amazingly, it jolted me out of my self-pity into gratitude. I am so lucky to be so grateful for what I had, for what we had. That line reminded me that not all have, or had, or will ever have, what I have had. And this deep gnashing pain is BECAUSE of what I had. Thank you for the reminder. The only reminder, I think, that can help me on days like this. Of course, not soon after, my gratitude- my deep deep gratitude- visits me, I am reminded of those couples who have what we had for many years longer than 13 years. And my self-pity starts up again. But then again, not everyone has it for even one day, so how lucky was I, and how lucky were we, to have it for 13 years? Thanks again for reminding me. Because everything I had with him IS worth it, this pain I never knew could hurt so badly.

  • commented on Indifference 2018-03-02 13:03:42 -0800
    Gabe, I can so relate to the indifference. I feel it daily, even just about living, these past 16 months. But in reading your post, it seems suddenly like it might and must be healthy to just feel it and admit it. Because it does when you talk about it. Thanks for helping me identify the feeling and accept it. Be okay with it for now, and not chastise myself for it. It is what it is. It is what I feel. Daily. Moment to moment. Broken up by moments that mean something to me. Gratitude. Grief. Moments of joy. That pass. We are OK, just the way we are, just the way we feel. Thanks for identifying the feeling, and holding it up, and processing it for us all.

  • commented on Its Your Birthday, My Heart and Back Know 2018-03-02 12:38:10 -0800
    Kelley, This post is so amazing to me. Add to that list of what you are now is teacher. A teacher of grief. I learned so many things in this article about HOW to grieve. Thank you. For one, I don’t feel my feelings enough, or try to process them through writing, enough. I want to trade my low-, or not so low-grade depression, and numbness, and faking it, for more feeling, processing, writing. I also love your use of the word horrific. That helps me name a feeling I have had for 16 months now, but did not want to name; it did not help me to not name it. Last but not least, thank you for helping me get out a great cry. For the husband that saved me, and without whom I feel like I am drowning and cannot save myself. But like you said, I do want to, for him, and for me. He did teach me how to save myself somehow, through 13 years of presence, commitment, love, and daily words of encouragement. And because of that I will and can keep learning from him, everyday. I know the first three things are still there in the same, but unseen, form, I just have to learn to live without the last one, at least in the way I knew before. Which I am so grateful for, it’s just easier said than done.

  • commented on Malbec 2018-02-28 13:57:42 -0800
    this is beautiful. Your writing is so beautiful. your words touched my heart in a way that is just what I needed today. this lonely winter afternoon, knowing I can’t just call him and hear his voice, his love for me, for us, for our togetherness, in this world. your writing feels so cathartic for me. so real. so on target. it touched my soul and gave me words and images for feelings and thoughts that i often cannot name or articulate. thank you so much.

  • commented on Resentment and PTSD 2018-02-28 07:12:10 -0800
    Kelley, I like the way you have felt all your feelings lately, that is inspirational to me. Not an easy task! Thanks for sharing them, we can all relate, and feel the dichotomy of happy and sad you have so eloquently written.