on grief: love

I heard this yesterday and I immediately stopped and had to write it down. It's like my brain will only truly comprehend when something is written; when it is made true. And clear. You can't argue with words on paper.

Loss is made endurable by love, and it is love that will echo through eternity.


To me, it's a quote that I can wrap myself in. It's optimistic.

And beautiful.


This morning I listened to my voicemail again - the voicemail my Mom left me on my birthday in August of 2013 - just days before she died.

I closed my eyes and I less listened to the words, but more to the tones... the inflections... the breaths that were taken in between sentences. I could hear the love in her voice.

"Happy Birthday to you..."

Literally, this life-altering, heart-shattering loss has been made endurable by love... and it is love that will echo through eternity.


Faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.


I find myself staring at my keyboard as I type. The thumping and excitable drive to tell her every single thing that is happening in my life has waned a bit.

I know I can't. (In the early days, I was waiting for my brain and heart to be on the same page. My brain was trying to make sense of the car accident. Of the sudden loss. But my heart just could not understand. This war within seems to be dying down... )

I know that I have lived my life for one year and nearly two months without speaking to my Mom. Without seeing her. Without texting her. Without her.

But I also know that there isn't one day that alludes me without thinking of her. This is not, Hallmark card, "I think of you often" - this is real-life, everyday, "I think of you every day. I remember you everyday. I try to feel you everyday.

I listen for an echo every day."


Loss is made endurable by love, and it is love that will echo through eternity.


I hope so.


--The Story of Loss. On Losing my Mom.
September 9, 2013  ::  The day I found out ::  Post here.
September 16, 2013  ::  It's One Week today  ::  Post here.
September 25, 2013  :: The Call  ::  Post here.
September 30, 2013  ::  Slivers of Sunlight  ::  Post here.
October 6, 2013  ::  That first week.Those first days :: Post here.
October 14, 2013  ::  14 days after  ::  Post here.
October 20, 2013  ::  I found a treasure  ::  Post here.
November 4, 2013  ::  She's been gone for 4 weeks  :: Post here.
November 13, 2013  ::  I smile and drive and cry and smile and cry  :: Post here.
November 17, 2013  ::  Weekends aren't easy  :: Post here.
November 26, 2013  ::  The holidays, the firsts  ::  Post here.
December 1, 2013  ::  8 weeks  :: Post here.
December 10, 2013  ::  The Dream  :: Post here.
December 19, 2013  ::  Vulnerability and Moving Forward  ::  Post here.
December 22, 2013  ::  The reminders. They're everywhere  ::  Post here.
December 29, 2013  :: 2013  :: Post here.
January 1, 2014  ::  The New Year  :: Post here.
January 7, 2014  ::  2 days from 4 months  ::  Post here.
January 17, 2014  ::  Another Gift ::  Post here.
January 25, 2014  ::  She would have been 60 today  ::  Post here.
February 9, 2014  ::  Five months  ::  Post here.
March 6, 2014  ::  Almost six months  ::  Post here.
March 27, 2014  ::  One of the Best Gifts Ever  ::  Post here.
April 1, 2014  ::  We're all in this together  ::  Post here.
April 24, 2014 :: 7 Months, Easter and Nope, I'm still not normal.  ::  Post here.
May 6, 2014  :: Mother's Day without a Mom  ::  Post here.
June 1, 2014  ::  Moving "forward"  ::  Post here.
July 6, 2014  ::  Denial & acceptance & blah, blah, blah  ::  Post here.
August 20, 2014  ::  So, I'm 35  ::  Post here.
September 2, 2014  ::  7 days  ::  Post here.
September 8, 2014  ::  The Day Before a Year  ::  Post here.
September 9, 2014  ::  Hello, one year  ::  Post here.
October 11, 2014  ::  The brain is funny  ::  Post here.



  1. I'm so glad you have that voicemail from your mom. And as an old colleague told me shortly after my father died, grief never disappears, it just sort of thins out over time. It's always there, though. It's not like you can forget someone so important. Sending continued love your way, mama. xoxo

  2. Love this. <3

    My cousin would have been 33 today. We were best friends. He died when we were 18. I just shared this on his sister's FB wall... thanks for the beautiful words today...

  3. Another for you. This one echoes for me in my own life.

    In Blackwater Woods
    By Mary Oliver

    Look, the trees
    are turning
    their own bodies
    into pillars

    of light,
    are giving off the rich
    fragrance of cinnamon
    and fulfillment,

    the long tapers
    of cattails
    are bursting and floating away over
    the blue shoulders

    of the ponds,
    and every pond,
    no matter what its
    name is, is

    nameless now.
    Every year
    I have ever learned

    in my lifetime
    leads back to this: the fires
    and the black river of loss
    whose other side

    is salvation,
    whose meaning
    none of us will ever know.
    To live in this world

    you must be able
    to do three things:
    to love what is mortal;
    to hold it

    against your bones knowing
    your own life depends on it;
    and, when the time comes to let it go,
    to let it go.


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