Hi Trivarna, yes, grief is an aspect of love and therefore becomes part of our being. I sometimes feel guilty too though l have befriended grief, she has her own key to the door. She often leaves a gift when she leaves, a sweet memory, a message, an acceptance. Sending love to you. 💜
Thank you, Simone. I love what you’ve said about grief “having the key to her own door.” That is so beautiful, and true. Sending a world of love and warmth to you, too. ❤️🌸
“we don’t always have to resolve the mess of them. How the beauty is IN the mess.”
Your essay also reminded me of something our lovely @chloehope shares on her website:
“For a long time, I struggled to separate grief from death, though I now understand grief as more closely related to love—an understanding that has given me the courage to dive more deeply into the grieving process, recognising it as an act of love.” ❤️
Love the silk-rimmed quilt image. Yes. Let’s quilt. Grief and pain are threads that will lend texture and strength and context. My hope (as I arrange my own pieces) is that the act of quilting itself…channeling loss into something functional… will help.
Thank you so much, Amy. “ Grief and pain are threads that will lend texture and strength and context” is so true. Sending a world of warmth and light your way. 🧡🌸
I know what it’s like to carry that weight and to feel like the seasons around me don’t match the storm inside. It’s strange how grief can feel so heavy, even when the world outside is blooming with life. The idea that I can be both broken and whole, that I can find comfort in small, everyday things even when my heart aches. Finding sweetness in the middle of sorrow, simply beautiful! I love your work.
Oh Mohika. You’re incredibly kind. I love that you find comfort in small, everyday things. That’s what nourishes me, too. Sending a world of love and light your way. 🌸
Dear Trivarna, this is such a gorgeous, powerful and life-giving piece that I resonate with deeply. How beautiful especially are the lines “let’s… sew our pain into a silk-rimmed quilt… especially on the days it grows snow-cold. And our window lies racked open by a thunderstorm”. My heart is taken by your description of allowing ourselves to feel and express our grief through craving for the “bursting red of watermelons” and biting into “the cold dark pink of pomegranate all day”, and the poignancy of “I will be my own mother. I will let my heart mourn”. This week, I’ve bought a great big watermelon to make myself watermelon juice too. Thank you so much for your words here, which have nourished my soul and are a warm hug for my own grief. Sending you much love <3
You’re incredibly kind. Thank you, dear Suyin. I’m so moved by your compassionate reading of the words. Sending you all my love. Sending a world of warmth your way ❤️🌸
I've been thinking about this post for a few days now...
Summer and grief... your title suggests that they shouldn't go together. As if summer is supposed to be a time of endless joy and dolce far niente...
summertime, and the living is easy, as the wellknown song tries to make us believe...
But summertime, jumping fish and the sounds of crickets aside, is not always as easy as we might expect or hope. If living in a 'summer country' has taught me anything (our Portuguese summers are long, hot, and fierce) it's that summer has her own dark side. Grief and fear burnt into the dry skin of mother Earth.
Thank goodness for watermelon juice on a hot day, to soothe the upset stomach and aching heart.
I had tears in my eyes from the title alone. Some pieces are written, others birthed. Thank you for everything within this post, and how it made me feel.
You can experience joy, while still grieving. The two are not mutually exclusive. Grief is a long rollercoaster process, and you should never feel guilt or apologize for it. Much love.💗
Trivarna, I'm so honored that you shared this piece with all of us on substack I'm also so sorry that you feel this way. I'm sending my sincere wish that you feel better soon.
Hi Trivarna, yes, grief is an aspect of love and therefore becomes part of our being. I sometimes feel guilty too though l have befriended grief, she has her own key to the door. She often leaves a gift when she leaves, a sweet memory, a message, an acceptance. Sending love to you. 💜
Thank you, Simone. I love what you’ve said about grief “having the key to her own door.” That is so beautiful, and true. Sending a world of love and warmth to you, too. ❤️🌸
Well said.
Such wisdom dear human!
“we don’t always have to resolve the mess of them. How the beauty is IN the mess.”
Your essay also reminded me of something our lovely @chloehope shares on her website:
“For a long time, I struggled to separate grief from death, though I now understand grief as more closely related to love—an understanding that has given me the courage to dive more deeply into the grieving process, recognising it as an act of love.” ❤️
Thank you so much, Kimberly. I absolutely love Chloe’s words too: her writing is beautiful. Sending you so much light & warmth, as ever. 🌻🌸
Grief follows its own season, but I am glad watermelon is there to sweeten your days. xo
Thank you so much, Carmine. Sending so much love & warmth your way ❤️🌸
Love the silk-rimmed quilt image. Yes. Let’s quilt. Grief and pain are threads that will lend texture and strength and context. My hope (as I arrange my own pieces) is that the act of quilting itself…channeling loss into something functional… will help.
Thank you so much, Amy. “ Grief and pain are threads that will lend texture and strength and context” is so true. Sending a world of warmth and light your way. 🧡🌸
I know what it’s like to carry that weight and to feel like the seasons around me don’t match the storm inside. It’s strange how grief can feel so heavy, even when the world outside is blooming with life. The idea that I can be both broken and whole, that I can find comfort in small, everyday things even when my heart aches. Finding sweetness in the middle of sorrow, simply beautiful! I love your work.
Oh Mohika. You’re incredibly kind. I love that you find comfort in small, everyday things. That’s what nourishes me, too. Sending a world of love and light your way. 🌸
Dear Trivarna, this is such a gorgeous, powerful and life-giving piece that I resonate with deeply. How beautiful especially are the lines “let’s… sew our pain into a silk-rimmed quilt… especially on the days it grows snow-cold. And our window lies racked open by a thunderstorm”. My heart is taken by your description of allowing ourselves to feel and express our grief through craving for the “bursting red of watermelons” and biting into “the cold dark pink of pomegranate all day”, and the poignancy of “I will be my own mother. I will let my heart mourn”. This week, I’ve bought a great big watermelon to make myself watermelon juice too. Thank you so much for your words here, which have nourished my soul and are a warm hug for my own grief. Sending you much love <3
You’re incredibly kind. Thank you, dear Suyin. I’m so moved by your compassionate reading of the words. Sending you all my love. Sending a world of warmth your way ❤️🌸
I've been thinking about this post for a few days now...
Summer and grief... your title suggests that they shouldn't go together. As if summer is supposed to be a time of endless joy and dolce far niente...
summertime, and the living is easy, as the wellknown song tries to make us believe...
But summertime, jumping fish and the sounds of crickets aside, is not always as easy as we might expect or hope. If living in a 'summer country' has taught me anything (our Portuguese summers are long, hot, and fierce) it's that summer has her own dark side. Grief and fear burnt into the dry skin of mother Earth.
Thank goodness for watermelon juice on a hot day, to soothe the upset stomach and aching heart.
I love your writing and look forward to more 💗🙏
Thank you so much, Veronika. The watermelon is incredible. I’m grateful for your kind words. Sending so much light and warmth your way. ❤️🌸
They do coexist! What a strange and complex thing it is to be human ❤️. Sending you love and extra watermelon
Truly is, Jenn! Sending you love & watermelon & berries too. Wishing you so much warmth & light, always 🌻❤️
Thank you kindly, my friend ❤️
it’s painful but beautiful how love and grief are so delicately intertwined. all my love 🩷
Absolutely, Jennae. Thank you for saying that. Sending you all my love, too. ❤️🌸
I had tears in my eyes from the title alone. Some pieces are written, others birthed. Thank you for everything within this post, and how it made me feel.
Thank you so much, Jim. I’m so moved by your words. Sending a world of light your way. 🌸
the only way out is through. allowing yourself to feel what you feel is giving yourself grace. it will just take as long as it takes and tha'ts ok.
Thank you so much, Elizabeth. Sending abundant light and warmth to you.
You can experience joy, while still grieving. The two are not mutually exclusive. Grief is a long rollercoaster process, and you should never feel guilt or apologize for it. Much love.💗
Absolutely, Nadia. Thank you for your incredible kindness as ever. Sending lots of love your way. 🌸❤️
Trivarna, I'm so honored that you shared this piece with all of us on substack I'm also so sorry that you feel this way. I'm sending my sincere wish that you feel better soon.
Thanks so much for your kind words and wishes, Sandy. Grateful for your reading of the piece. 🌸