I didn’t know Andrea. I was only a fan moved by their work in my darkest of times. And I feel their loss so deeply. Reading your emails since they moved on has been so touching. And I can only imagine the profound experience you are living through. Sending you a big hug and so much love.
Ah, dear Meg, deep bow of gratitude for your beautiful writing. It is truly breathtaking, pure and resonant of the endless ways in which our beloveds offer us what I call “The Gifts of grief.”
I am in my 76th dance around the sun and was blessed by sharing 46 human journey years with my husband. As of today, it has been 284 weeks/1992 days since he suddenly and unexpectedly transitioned…our forever love keeps growing and morphing in ways that nourish and sustain me.
A favorite quote that I hope might have meaning for you:
Joanie- Matt’s words have been a wondrous source of catharsis and comfort to me as I continue to process trauma and grief. Hoping his healing energy reaches your spirit as well.
Oh my dear…same same for me…a widow of 5 years…isn’t this writing the most beautiful & bittersweet? With you so you know you are not alone on Widow’s Trail…blessings as we journey on ❤️🩹
Oh my dear…same same for me…a widow of 5 years…isn’t this writing the most beautiful & bittersweet? With you so you know you are not alone on Widow’s Trail…blessings as we journey on ❤️🩹
Talk about utterly gobsmacked— I swear I could have written this myself— and I don’t say that to diminish your experience an iota— but simply to marvel that so much of my grief, for my son, my only child, my heart, my person— has been all of this, and hasn’t really stopped in almost 11 yrs. I could go line thru line of this giving “same” and “me too!” examples, it’s extraordinary uncanny and also, perhaps— one of the most comforting things I’ve read in these nearly 11 yrs because it validates what I already felt in my marrow was true— but I’ll simply share that I’m delighted for you— I know they stay close— it’s the only doubt I do not have— I loved Andrea’s radiant heart and potent words, I’m not surprised they are showing up this way because people like Andrea & my Isaac, people who have a greater assignment— their capacity is beyond anything we know how to measure, Earthside.
My friends and I call Isaac our Own Personal Jesus. I had absolute faith I would not survive his death, and am still sometimes bewildered to be here, but everything I do is now is a nod to him— whether I am loving bigger, being kinder, or sharpening my funny bone. Last night, I burped and said out loud “pardon me” and inside, immediately, I said “fartin me”— which is what my son and I always said to each other to excuse ourselves because passing any kind of gas was hilarious science to us. It’s automatic, still, even though all these years have gone by, none have at all. Time and space are illusions anyway. He was just here, and I was just a mama. He is still here and I am still his mama. He is so far gone but love and grief grow— together, entangled as they are, and I don’t want that to ever dissipate, as close to me as my own heart, his heart.
Thank you for saying it all so gorgeously, and unwittingly reflecting back to me what living with loss looks and sounds and feels like because sometimes I feel so utterly alone in what I know, and today I don’t. I have a hunch this will be a gift to so many grievers. I’ll be thinking about longing being the foundation of religion for awhile. 💛✨🚀🌀
I'm nodding right along with you. Isaac, our "Own Personal Jesus." It feels so good to be validated and affirmed in this way, doesn't it? Time and space are indeed illusions. Meg and Andrea are bridging what often has felt like such a great divide. Not today, that gap was filled with sun and moonlight. Soft petals too. Such a heartfelt comment💓 and it made me giggle over the "fartin me." Gotta love their sense of humor still, and helping to remind us of ours too. Thank you, Christina. 💜
Dearest Christina, I am so sorry for your loss, as a mother I can't or don't want to fully want to imagine that.
AND, it is so meaningful and beautiful that you still feel his presence - which I believe is very very real, the connection between the visible world and the invisible. And I share in your joy that you have a bond that can never ever be broken.
Seems masochistic to wish a love like this for myself, but I really do want to love someone this clearly, to be loved this infinitely, even if it also means being in the ache that comes with such a perfect miracle.
Rooting for you to receive every sign imaginable and reasons to keep seeing the miracle in all of this 💖
So incredibly beautiful! All of it. So honored that you would share all this love with us, Meg and Andrea. The veil is so very thin. We're all so connected. Thank you. And biggest love to you as you are present in the grief... and the gifts... and the miracles.
My husband died 8 years ago. I keep a picture of him on my bed; during a baseball game, if the Astros score a lead run I turn it over to the one of him drinking a beer. I keep a picture of him in the car. He is on a motorcycle, big grin on his face.
I have a line from Andrea's poem, Instead of Depression, tattooed on my arm. It's probably an odd choice in terms of which line, but I chose "Sweetheart, instead of a grave," because it felt like a warm hug from a friend and a reminder to stay. I am struggling so much again lately, and this just hit me in the right spot from this post: "And because I far prefer a world where everything is a miracle, sometimes it's a conscious choice more than an inherent one to believe..." Thank you, Megan (and Andrea) for the reminder 🖤😭
Just yes beautiful yes yes yes. My amazing mom died just two days after Andrea and while I know it is so crushingly different to lose your partner than your parent, your process and your words are profoundly reflective for me. Thank you thank you. I love you.
My mom died almost 3 years ago now, and I don't feel her here anymore. Nor my friend Andre, who died in 2012, or my friend Tamera, who died during covid lockdown. I don't know if I'm broken as a receiver, or if my loved ones have all had to move on for some reason.
I’ve found that multiple deaths of beloveds in quick succession made it harder for me to feel anyone for a long while. Perhaps you need some grief care before you can open up to them, and as Juliana says, it’s often less literal. I have had an easier time sensing beings with whom I had less complicated relationships, and for the more complicated ones I needed more healing from wounds related to them before I could sense their presence and love more.
I hoped after a few days of what felt like near constant contact, that when I felt her presence lessen, that she would want to be other places. I remembered what Andrea and others say about them being everywhere. It’s comforting to me that she would want to be in so many other places. And return when I need her most in the form of messengers or the quiet sound of her voice in my heart. Wishing you peace.
“The anniversary I never asked for is also a tether, an axis in what might otherwise be the freefall of space.”
I am so grateful for this sentence. I lost my grandpa in June and have recently been wondering if it's odd that I keep track of the date. Thank you for putting it into words ❤️🩹
When I don't consciously note the date, my body and subconscious keep track for me. I can't tell you how often I feel off, odd, peculiar, and later realize it was someone I love's death day or another painful anniversary of grief.
I had a weird thing happen as I was reading this post. I have music playing on random from Spotify and a song came on titled “Chariot” By Mega. I’ve never heard the song or the band.
First verse and chorus go
“Just imagine, we woke up in paradise
Don't need magic, let my force just carry us home tonight
Dru, I was reading this at a place and time where I could immediately pull up this song. I have never her of it or of Mega, but I love this. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you for sharing this, Meg. The older I get, the less I believe in coincidences. Of course we believe you, but who cares if we didn't? You know they'll find every way to keep loving you from beyond. <3
I didn’t know Andrea. I was only a fan moved by their work in my darkest of times. And I feel their loss so deeply. Reading your emails since they moved on has been so touching. And I can only imagine the profound experience you are living through. Sending you a big hug and so much love.
Exactly what I've been thinking, Rebecca, but never quite so eloquently as you said it.
Ah, dear Meg, deep bow of gratitude for your beautiful writing. It is truly breathtaking, pure and resonant of the endless ways in which our beloveds offer us what I call “The Gifts of grief.”
I am in my 76th dance around the sun and was blessed by sharing 46 human journey years with my husband. As of today, it has been 284 weeks/1992 days since he suddenly and unexpectedly transitioned…our forever love keeps growing and morphing in ways that nourish and sustain me.
A favorite quote that I hope might have meaning for you:
Grief is the midwife of new life~
Matt Licata
🫂💙🕊️
I am grateful to receive this quote. 💜
Joanie- Matt’s words have been a wondrous source of catharsis and comfort to me as I continue to process trauma and grief. Hoping his healing energy reaches your spirit as well.
Oh my dear…same same for me…a widow of 5 years…isn’t this writing the most beautiful & bittersweet? With you so you know you are not alone on Widow’s Trail…blessings as we journey on ❤️🩹
Thank you. I will be looking into him. Yes, he already has with this quote. 💜
Oh my dear…same same for me…a widow of 5 years…isn’t this writing the most beautiful & bittersweet? With you so you know you are not alone on Widow’s Trail…blessings as we journey on ❤️🩹
I remain struck by the gift you give us by letting us into your grief and letting us love you both through the human field.
Yes, Amy!!!!
Talk about utterly gobsmacked— I swear I could have written this myself— and I don’t say that to diminish your experience an iota— but simply to marvel that so much of my grief, for my son, my only child, my heart, my person— has been all of this, and hasn’t really stopped in almost 11 yrs. I could go line thru line of this giving “same” and “me too!” examples, it’s extraordinary uncanny and also, perhaps— one of the most comforting things I’ve read in these nearly 11 yrs because it validates what I already felt in my marrow was true— but I’ll simply share that I’m delighted for you— I know they stay close— it’s the only doubt I do not have— I loved Andrea’s radiant heart and potent words, I’m not surprised they are showing up this way because people like Andrea & my Isaac, people who have a greater assignment— their capacity is beyond anything we know how to measure, Earthside.
My friends and I call Isaac our Own Personal Jesus. I had absolute faith I would not survive his death, and am still sometimes bewildered to be here, but everything I do is now is a nod to him— whether I am loving bigger, being kinder, or sharpening my funny bone. Last night, I burped and said out loud “pardon me” and inside, immediately, I said “fartin me”— which is what my son and I always said to each other to excuse ourselves because passing any kind of gas was hilarious science to us. It’s automatic, still, even though all these years have gone by, none have at all. Time and space are illusions anyway. He was just here, and I was just a mama. He is still here and I am still his mama. He is so far gone but love and grief grow— together, entangled as they are, and I don’t want that to ever dissipate, as close to me as my own heart, his heart.
Thank you for saying it all so gorgeously, and unwittingly reflecting back to me what living with loss looks and sounds and feels like because sometimes I feel so utterly alone in what I know, and today I don’t. I have a hunch this will be a gift to so many grievers. I’ll be thinking about longing being the foundation of religion for awhile. 💛✨🚀🌀
I'm nodding right along with you. Isaac, our "Own Personal Jesus." It feels so good to be validated and affirmed in this way, doesn't it? Time and space are indeed illusions. Meg and Andrea are bridging what often has felt like such a great divide. Not today, that gap was filled with sun and moonlight. Soft petals too. Such a heartfelt comment💓 and it made me giggle over the "fartin me." Gotta love their sense of humor still, and helping to remind us of ours too. Thank you, Christina. 💜
Dearest Christina, I am so sorry for your loss, as a mother I can't or don't want to fully want to imagine that.
AND, it is so meaningful and beautiful that you still feel his presence - which I believe is very very real, the connection between the visible world and the invisible. And I share in your joy that you have a bond that can never ever be broken.
Seems masochistic to wish a love like this for myself, but I really do want to love someone this clearly, to be loved this infinitely, even if it also means being in the ache that comes with such a perfect miracle.
Rooting for you to receive every sign imaginable and reasons to keep seeing the miracle in all of this 💖
Me too. Me too, Anne.
So incredibly beautiful! All of it. So honored that you would share all this love with us, Meg and Andrea. The veil is so very thin. We're all so connected. Thank you. And biggest love to you as you are present in the grief... and the gifts... and the miracles.
My husband died 8 years ago. I keep a picture of him on my bed; during a baseball game, if the Astros score a lead run I turn it over to the one of him drinking a beer. I keep a picture of him in the car. He is on a motorcycle, big grin on his face.
Your writing is absolutely breathtaking. Thank you so much for sharing.
Agreed. 🥺♥️🙏🏼
I have a line from Andrea's poem, Instead of Depression, tattooed on my arm. It's probably an odd choice in terms of which line, but I chose "Sweetheart, instead of a grave," because it felt like a warm hug from a friend and a reminder to stay. I am struggling so much again lately, and this just hit me in the right spot from this post: "And because I far prefer a world where everything is a miracle, sometimes it's a conscious choice more than an inherent one to believe..." Thank you, Megan (and Andrea) for the reminder 🖤😭
Just yes beautiful yes yes yes. My amazing mom died just two days after Andrea and while I know it is so crushingly different to lose your partner than your parent, your process and your words are profoundly reflective for me. Thank you thank you. I love you.
My mom died almost 3 years ago now, and I don't feel her here anymore. Nor my friend Andre, who died in 2012, or my friend Tamera, who died during covid lockdown. I don't know if I'm broken as a receiver, or if my loved ones have all had to move on for some reason.
I’ve found that multiple deaths of beloveds in quick succession made it harder for me to feel anyone for a long while. Perhaps you need some grief care before you can open up to them, and as Juliana says, it’s often less literal. I have had an easier time sensing beings with whom I had less complicated relationships, and for the more complicated ones I needed more healing from wounds related to them before I could sense their presence and love more.
I wonder if feeling them isn’t so literal?
I hoped after a few days of what felt like near constant contact, that when I felt her presence lessen, that she would want to be other places. I remembered what Andrea and others say about them being everywhere. It’s comforting to me that she would want to be in so many other places. And return when I need her most in the form of messengers or the quiet sound of her voice in my heart. Wishing you peace.
“The anniversary I never asked for is also a tether, an axis in what might otherwise be the freefall of space.”
I am so grateful for this sentence. I lost my grandpa in June and have recently been wondering if it's odd that I keep track of the date. Thank you for putting it into words ❤️🩹
When I don't consciously note the date, my body and subconscious keep track for me. I can't tell you how often I feel off, odd, peculiar, and later realize it was someone I love's death day or another painful anniversary of grief.
I had a weird thing happen as I was reading this post. I have music playing on random from Spotify and a song came on titled “Chariot” By Mega. I’ve never heard the song or the band.
First verse and chorus go
“Just imagine, we woke up in paradise
Don't need magic, let my force just carry us home tonight
Future’s golden, don't let go don't give it up
Just keep holding, even when you had enough
I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I will be your light
[Chorus]
When you’re low, I'll lead you home, Chariot
Take you back to where you're from, Chariot”
Seemed very fitting to me.
Dru, I was reading this at a place and time where I could immediately pull up this song. I have never her of it or of Mega, but I love this. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you for sharing this, Meg. The older I get, the less I believe in coincidences. Of course we believe you, but who cares if we didn't? You know they'll find every way to keep loving you from beyond. <3
mega,
garden tomatoes were once flowers with petals.
This is incredible. I laughed, I cried. I sobbed. The butterflies. The moon. Spirit. ❤️💜🩷
So beautiful. And the Eminem! I cackled.
Your words on grief, the power of it, not wanting to be out of that cradle of it, all true and all felt.
Andrea is loving you through all the elements. How gorgeous and exactly right. <3