I have friends who need love, support, and help. I’m sharing a few of them with you today and hope you’ll stop in and say hello. Rumor Has It these are some of the most generous, caring, thoughtful people I’ve come to know, whether in person or just through the screen.
*****
From “Miles,” by Lisa Allen at Back to Allen:
I crouch here, too, to chat. I have a line from ‘Hope Floats’ ringing through my brain; there’s a scene where Sandra Bullock is talking to her mother about how she wanted to be a different mother to her daughter than her mom had been to her, and says something like ‘I realize that it doesn’t matter who or what or when or where the hugging happens. Sometimes you just need a hug’ and I kept hearing ‘it doesn’t matter where or when the conversations happen as long as we keep talking’. The voice in my head had that Texas drawl even though I don’t, and I kept begging it to stop.
I kept talking, through the tears, until my thighs burned and my calves cramped and I couldn’t crouch any longer.
*****
From “We Were Seven & Now We Are Six,” by Sarah Reinhart at The Sunday Spill
We’re not all here I cried. We’re not all here.
We didn’t bring everyone home with us. We were seven, and now we’re not. Mitchell, we left a baby in Baltimore.
Because we did. That’s how I felt. We’re not all here.
*****
From “Status Update: Checking in with a Griever,” by Alexandra Rosas at Good Day Regular People
-Day 2 Saturday:
8:01 a.m. Wake up in black dress from funeral.
7:00 p.m. Change from black dress from funeral, into black T shirt.
7:15 p.m. Drive self in black T shirt and slippers for something to eat. Only want ice cream.
8:20 p.m. Friend drops off purple violet plant, my mother’s favorite. Can barely make out velvety leaves through blur of tears.
9:05 pm. Stare at van full of things from mother’s funeral, no room for children. Walk back into house.
9:10 p.m. Turn to FB: van needs emptying. Unable to do. Sage friends advise children empty items into back room, I go through items later.
9:39 p.m. Children empty van.
11:41 p.m. Fall asleep grateful for wise friends on FB.
*****
“Not In Kansas Anymore,” by Erin Donovan at I’m Gonna Kill Him
Then my marriage ended, and the levees of my adulthood were tested. Without summons, emissaries of good judgment flocked to my side and began speaking to each other above my head, the way adults do when talking about the insolent child in the room. I now needed a lawyer to tell me how to speak. An accountant to tell me how to save. A realtor to tell me how to live. A therapist to tell me how to feel. A mother to tell me to sleep. A father to tell me to eat. A friend to tell me to stop watching Eat Pray Love every night.
The directional signs – the ones in the airport that illuminated the way when I first became an adult – have all gone dark. I am back to following at the heels of grownups, trusting that they’ll get me where I need to go, which is a route much more complicated than those laid out by any business trip. I have never felt more like a child while, by the same token, never feeling more adult.
I have never been more in Kansas and in search of Colorado.
*****
“Day 1,131” By Katy Jacob of KatyDid Cancer:
Right now, we are all fairly sure I don’t have mets. So what I have is the second level of cancer, the level no one ever wants to discuss or admit exists.
Sometimes, cancer is a chronic disease, a chronic condition. Sometimes, it takes a long, long time for cancer to work its way out of your system, no matter what you do to fight it. This can happen even when cancer is not destined to kill you.
No one wants to hear this. You are supposed to fight cancer once and win. The alternative, I guess, is to “lose.”
There’s not a lot of language out there for those of us who just have to keep fighting, keep sacrificing bits of our healthy selves in some kind of absurd ritual to the cancer gods.
(and then go read the poem she wrote at the end of this post)
*****
I know this doesn’t begin to cover it. I don’t know what to do, how to help. Except to spread the word so we can all pour our love into one giant pot…and give those in need heaping bowls of it, as many refills as they want.
Love and hugs to you and your whole posse, Erin! Thoughts and words often feel like too little, but they can work wonders. I’ll be thinking of you all.
August,
Thanks for stopping in and I’m sure these people appreciate your good thoughts!
You are a force in this world. Erin. You have done so much for so many, and to feel this love from you, is something I wish I could explain… but it heals. THANK YOU.
Alexandra,
I still have something coming for you. It’s in the works. I wanted to give you time for things to settle down…but now, with the advent of the clowns? Maybe it’s time! xoxoxo
thank you.
Katy,
Thank YOU. You are an inspiration. And sharing your journey is helping many people. SO many people. You’re an incredible role model for your children, for the world, and I’m honored to have “met” you in this great big thing we call the blogosphere.
Erin, thank you. You are so kind. So very sweet. I appreciate your support more than you know. xo.
Sarah,
How are you feeling (you are probably sick of hearing that…I’m sorry. I don’t claim to know the right words, except that you’ve remained in my thoughts)? I haven’t been where you are, but…I am still sending my love.
You have such a big, generous, kind heart, Erin. xo
Alison,
It is you with the big, generous heart. I don’t know how you manage to make the rounds, visit everyone, and always BE THERE for so many of us, all the time. You are magical and such a sweet friend. <3
Lots of beautiful words in the face of such loss. Thank you for sharing. Sending love out to these women!
Dana,
Thank YOU for reading and for sending them love. xoxooxo
this is such a great idea, Erin! love seeing all of this goodness scooped up into one place.
Thank you, Tara! Some other bloggers do similar things and I like to spread the internet love. It’s hard, though. Can’t include everyone and so hard to decide…my heart has its leanings, I guess. 😉
Thank you for sharing some beautiful words with us, Erin. I am always so inspired by bloggers and writers who write with heart and soul, so I appreciate you introducing me to some new reads.
Stevie,
It’s far easier for me to share others’ writing and work….than to share my own. There’s so much out there, not enough time to read and appreciate it all. Sharing is easy. I wish I had time to read everything and comment on all of it and really connect. But it’s too hard to do so many things at once. So little bites every now and then, I guess? Thanks for stopping by again!
This touched me and opened up my heart for the cry I needed. Thank you.
Mary,
Oh, sweet thing. You are thanking ME? Thank YOU for reading, for feeling your feelings, and for connecting here. You are such a doll. Hugs to you, as always!
I think spreading the love is the best answer. And you do that so well, my sweet, loving friend. xoxo
Thank you so much, Elaine. I want to work on doing this more often. In fact? If you haven’t already? Go read Poppy Marler’s post on her mammogram: http://www.facing40.com/first-mammogram
Sharing these stories makes me happy for these women even though they’ve been grieving, because it means that they have people like you (and us!) who care for them. Encouragement and support – we all need it at different times, and it is comforting to know that it exists in abundance.
Andrea,
Agreed. We all need support at times, and I just wish I could do away with the feeling of helplessness. Sometimes all I can do is spread the word and send love virtually…so…that is what I do. Thank you so much for stopping by to read this!
😉