I’m the woman in the red coat a lot these days - but usually I’m wearing a yellow poncho. The things I appreciate: generous smiles, space and solace, and honestly would love a handkerchief sometimes but that isn’t really how the world rolls anymore.
Thank you for sharing such a vulnerable and lovely part of yourself with us. It is very comforting indeed, and I'm looking VERY much forward to reading your daily posts right alongside of Andrea's as well. Again, thank you.
Oh, I would love to read it, but after day two, your posts stopped opening. They aren’t opening on Facebook either. You’re a wonderful writer and I’d sure love to read more.
M'gosh, thank you so much for letting me know. I'm a doofus when it comes to understanding Facebook share settings. Usually, everything's set to friends only, and I've not posted on there much until now. I appreciate ya, and thanks for being a companion along this path. <3
You're LIGHTS years ahead of me as I hardly ever go onto Facebook. But here we are nonetheless - in this wonderfully, loving grieving space. I've a sneaking suspicion that by the end of this reading journey, Andrea would have worked even MORE of their enchantment!
Oh, absolutely. But reading back on these posts, I swear, it feels like even though Gibson did everything humanly possible to live, they wrote knowing full well that there would be folks like us dropping by-- not just to give our respect, or place a stone, but to stand again inside their light and positivity, and then somehow make our own.
I just felt like I wanted to smile at the woman in the red coat and ask, "Is Minneapolis your final stop today?"....and see if she welcomed a kind voice.
And yet, it's amazing how your perception of her grief launched so many thoughts, culminating in your desire to tell the one closest to you how much you love her. She helped you. 💜
I’m the woman in the red coat a lot these days - but usually I’m wearing a yellow poncho. The things I appreciate: generous smiles, space and solace, and honestly would love a handkerchief sometimes but that isn’t really how the world rolls anymore.
After many years of not writing, I've decided to do it again, but only in response to these posts. I'm dropping them here as little love letters.
Here's the one for this post: https://www.facebook.com/share/1K27GWCFs9/
Thank you for sharing such a vulnerable and lovely part of yourself with us. It is very comforting indeed, and I'm looking VERY much forward to reading your daily posts right alongside of Andrea's as well. Again, thank you.
Azren, thanks! I mentioned you in my Day 8 post! Appreciate the feedback!
Oh, I would love to read it, but after day two, your posts stopped opening. They aren’t opening on Facebook either. You’re a wonderful writer and I’d sure love to read more.
M'gosh, thank you so much for letting me know. I'm a doofus when it comes to understanding Facebook share settings. Usually, everything's set to friends only, and I've not posted on there much until now. I appreciate ya, and thanks for being a companion along this path. <3
You're LIGHTS years ahead of me as I hardly ever go onto Facebook. But here we are nonetheless - in this wonderfully, loving grieving space. I've a sneaking suspicion that by the end of this reading journey, Andrea would have worked even MORE of their enchantment!
Oh, absolutely. But reading back on these posts, I swear, it feels like even though Gibson did everything humanly possible to live, they wrote knowing full well that there would be folks like us dropping by-- not just to give our respect, or place a stone, but to stand again inside their light and positivity, and then somehow make our own.
I just felt like I wanted to smile at the woman in the red coat and ask, "Is Minneapolis your final stop today?"....and see if she welcomed a kind voice.
And yet, it's amazing how your perception of her grief launched so many thoughts, culminating in your desire to tell the one closest to you how much you love her. She helped you. 💜