Thank you for sharing this about Craig, Dan, and Mark. I believe with all my heart how correct you are about how being in nature helps getting through the grieving process. It means everything to me being far out into the quiet of the Prairie. Feeling embraced by woodlands. Observing life near rivers. They will find strength being with nature. They'll get through it.
My only surviving niece (age 49!) was, earlier this month, diagnosed advanced stage 4. I'm struggling to write her a letter. I want to tell her where and how to find courage. And she needs to know that she hasn't done anything wrong to cause her cancer. But. Words. Are. Failing. Me.
My life-partner Sue (still together, married 53 years), my sister and I are cancer survivors (so far, for now).
We know what it's like to go through it.
My sister and my niece's twin are all that's left of my immediate family. Other nephew, niece, my brother, parents and grandparents - all gone. Lots of cancers there too.
We know what it's like to grieve.
Craig, Dan and Mark...you're going to be ok. I promise.
Mark, how generous of you to share your family's experience(s) with cancer. Blessings to you ALL. And re: the letter to your niece--I think you've already found the words, and I know they will mean so much to her. I'm glad you survived your illness and are thriving in the embrace of Mother Nature -- probably your best medicine!
Peace and healing to our friends who are grieving. Thank you for the wildflower photo. Spring here too has been long and lovely. I am deeply grateful as well. Much love to you, Jeanne.
Thank you for this piece. It really hit home. The part about our time here being way too short, and using the time we have with our loved ones wisely, doing meaningful things for those we love and in the wider world as well.
I have lost all my family now…Dad first in 2000, and my mom 10 years later, and my only sibling, disabled older brother, 10 years after her. I lost him just as the pandemic was closing us down, and just after we moved into our home on this beautiful piece of the mountains we now call home. My brother sent me a rainbow 2 weeks after he passed. He continues to do so. We have created a bit of a bird sanctuary here, and my Dad is a consistent visitor, bird watching on the swing - he was an avid bird watcher, and he loves it here! Especially the bluebirds! I understand the journey of grief. It’s a long one.
It is a joy to see the beauty of this spring in particular, after so much devastation from Helene. The greening of the mountains gives great hope that survival is possible, no matter the season. The pollinators seem to be thriving!
My initial cancer diagnosis was in Nov ‘22. Lucky for me it was early. I’m 30 months out, and the oncologist says the first milestone is 3 years….6 months away. However, there are no guarantees with this one.
Nature is my go to place for healing. When it’s difficult, I go mess in the dirt….I move plants, divide plants, plant more plants, talk to the bees and the squirrels and the birds; I watch the clouds float slowly over the mountain ridges; I go help with maintenance of the local public garden spaces in our town. I nurture them, and they nurture me.
Once, I envisioned living to be 94 like my mother. Now, I am grateful for just a day at a time. I want the seasons to go slowly, not too fast….I don’t want to miss anything! How can I be love and light today, this day, and maybe not for a life time….what is that anyway? It’s this moment…right now….
Martie, what a lovely meditation you've written here, on the lifetime journey of love and loss. You have been through a lot, obviously, but I'm so glad you have the greening of the mountains and the beauty around you and the pollinators and your hands in the dirt to ground and steady you. And YES, that it all dissolves down into this present moment. So wise. I send you blessings as you continue your journey.
Oh, Jeanne! I am so sorry that your friends lost their dear loves. Grief is a trickster, appearing when we least expect it and in different forms over time. But as I learned in journeying with my husband's brain cancer and his death, nature does heal. This numinous earth holds us in both the hardest and also the most joyous times--in fact, always holds us. Practicing my terraphilia, humans' innate connection with and affiliation for this earth and those myriad of lives we share it with is what saved me on that journey. I am glad that your friends have that heart-connection too, and I know they will be buoyed and supported.
And your spring photos! What a joy to see spring through your eyes in your luscious woods. May you be buoyed too, by the mountain laurel and the bird-song, the green and abundance of life after the story. Blessings and hugs to you.
Susan, I know you are intimately acquainted with the experience of losing a beloved. Many blessings to you for that. I hope this story did not arouse painful memories. I'm so glad you have your own beautiful connection with Mother Earth to sustain and inspire you and inform your work in the world. Yay!
Thanks for your concern, Jeanne, but the story did not arouse any painful memories. It was sweet in its own way, and very gently handled. Blessings to you!
I'm so happy you featured the Mountain Laurels. In my 18 years on this land, I have never been so charmed by the arrival of these pink and white jewels. They appear in their usual spots but, since the storm, they also show up on the edges of the forest, and deeper down where they get a tiny bit of dappled sunlight. Every day- since the hurricane, hailstorm, and earthquake- feels like a miracle.
I am sorry I did not check in with you after the earthquake. I should have remembered it probably affected you.
Your "Change of Constancy" was beautifully stated....how true that we have to let go and ready ourselves for the next changes....we don't always know what's ahead but we can enjoy the now and move on to the next. Thank you
Thank you Jeanne for this touching and relevant post. Sending healing thoughts to both Craig and Dan.
A dear friend who I call my heart sister lost her husband of 35 years to cancer almost 2 months ago. He was an anomaly; diagnosed with stage 4 prostate cancer 16 years ago. He continued to embrace life every waking minute until the last week. His wife and adult children were with him when he passed away at home, also with the wonderful help from Hospice workers. Thank goodness for them. My “sista” thankfully meets with a bereavement counselor, but mostly cries a lot. Grief comes to each of us in different forms, her other friends and I coax her out for walks and hikes, meals and time with dogs, which is her favorite pastime right now. Meeting each day with grace, gratitude and kindness is my current mantra.
So lovely, Allison. Thank you for sharing that. It sounds like your heart sister's husband had what I call a Good Death. And it's wonderful how you and her other sisters are now taking care of her. Also, your mantra is perfect. So inspiring!
Thank you for sharing this about Craig, Dan, and Mark. I believe with all my heart how correct you are about how being in nature helps getting through the grieving process. It means everything to me being far out into the quiet of the Prairie. Feeling embraced by woodlands. Observing life near rivers. They will find strength being with nature. They'll get through it.
My only surviving niece (age 49!) was, earlier this month, diagnosed advanced stage 4. I'm struggling to write her a letter. I want to tell her where and how to find courage. And she needs to know that she hasn't done anything wrong to cause her cancer. But. Words. Are. Failing. Me.
My life-partner Sue (still together, married 53 years), my sister and I are cancer survivors (so far, for now).
We know what it's like to go through it.
My sister and my niece's twin are all that's left of my immediate family. Other nephew, niece, my brother, parents and grandparents - all gone. Lots of cancers there too.
We know what it's like to grieve.
Craig, Dan and Mark...you're going to be ok. I promise.
Mark, how generous of you to share your family's experience(s) with cancer. Blessings to you ALL. And re: the letter to your niece--I think you've already found the words, and I know they will mean so much to her. I'm glad you survived your illness and are thriving in the embrace of Mother Nature -- probably your best medicine!
Thank you for this, Mark.
Few things make you treasure every moment like moments you spend in nature.
So true, Jim! And I treasure the moments you and I spend in nature together. Thank you for sharing it all with me.
Peace and healing to our friends who are grieving. Thank you for the wildflower photo. Spring here too has been long and lovely. I am deeply grateful as well. Much love to you, Jeanne.
And back to you, dear woman! Glad you're having a sweet spring.
Thank you for this piece. It really hit home. The part about our time here being way too short, and using the time we have with our loved ones wisely, doing meaningful things for those we love and in the wider world as well.
I have lost all my family now…Dad first in 2000, and my mom 10 years later, and my only sibling, disabled older brother, 10 years after her. I lost him just as the pandemic was closing us down, and just after we moved into our home on this beautiful piece of the mountains we now call home. My brother sent me a rainbow 2 weeks after he passed. He continues to do so. We have created a bit of a bird sanctuary here, and my Dad is a consistent visitor, bird watching on the swing - he was an avid bird watcher, and he loves it here! Especially the bluebirds! I understand the journey of grief. It’s a long one.
It is a joy to see the beauty of this spring in particular, after so much devastation from Helene. The greening of the mountains gives great hope that survival is possible, no matter the season. The pollinators seem to be thriving!
My initial cancer diagnosis was in Nov ‘22. Lucky for me it was early. I’m 30 months out, and the oncologist says the first milestone is 3 years….6 months away. However, there are no guarantees with this one.
Nature is my go to place for healing. When it’s difficult, I go mess in the dirt….I move plants, divide plants, plant more plants, talk to the bees and the squirrels and the birds; I watch the clouds float slowly over the mountain ridges; I go help with maintenance of the local public garden spaces in our town. I nurture them, and they nurture me.
Once, I envisioned living to be 94 like my mother. Now, I am grateful for just a day at a time. I want the seasons to go slowly, not too fast….I don’t want to miss anything! How can I be love and light today, this day, and maybe not for a life time….what is that anyway? It’s this moment…right now….
Martie, what a lovely meditation you've written here, on the lifetime journey of love and loss. You have been through a lot, obviously, but I'm so glad you have the greening of the mountains and the beauty around you and the pollinators and your hands in the dirt to ground and steady you. And YES, that it all dissolves down into this present moment. So wise. I send you blessings as you continue your journey.
Oh, Jeanne! I am so sorry that your friends lost their dear loves. Grief is a trickster, appearing when we least expect it and in different forms over time. But as I learned in journeying with my husband's brain cancer and his death, nature does heal. This numinous earth holds us in both the hardest and also the most joyous times--in fact, always holds us. Practicing my terraphilia, humans' innate connection with and affiliation for this earth and those myriad of lives we share it with is what saved me on that journey. I am glad that your friends have that heart-connection too, and I know they will be buoyed and supported.
And your spring photos! What a joy to see spring through your eyes in your luscious woods. May you be buoyed too, by the mountain laurel and the bird-song, the green and abundance of life after the story. Blessings and hugs to you.
Susan, I know you are intimately acquainted with the experience of losing a beloved. Many blessings to you for that. I hope this story did not arouse painful memories. I'm so glad you have your own beautiful connection with Mother Earth to sustain and inspire you and inform your work in the world. Yay!
Thanks for your concern, Jeanne, but the story did not arouse any painful memories. It was sweet in its own way, and very gently handled. Blessings to you!
I'm so happy you featured the Mountain Laurels. In my 18 years on this land, I have never been so charmed by the arrival of these pink and white jewels. They appear in their usual spots but, since the storm, they also show up on the edges of the forest, and deeper down where they get a tiny bit of dappled sunlight. Every day- since the hurricane, hailstorm, and earthquake- feels like a miracle.
I am sorry I did not check in with you after the earthquake. I should have remembered it probably affected you.
love to the men who lost their women, k
"Pink and white jewels"is the perfect way to describe mtn. laurel, K. I love it! They do seem extra cheerful this year, don't they?
Yes!!🌱🌿💚
Your "Change of Constancy" was beautifully stated....how true that we have to let go and ready ourselves for the next changes....we don't always know what's ahead but we can enjoy the now and move on to the next. Thank you
You're welcome, Skip, and thank you for being here! Change does seem to be the one constant in our lives, doesn't it? So ironic.
This is a beautiful tribute to your friends and an important reminder not to take life for granted.
Thank you, Paul!
Thank you Jeanne for this touching and relevant post. Sending healing thoughts to both Craig and Dan.
A dear friend who I call my heart sister lost her husband of 35 years to cancer almost 2 months ago. He was an anomaly; diagnosed with stage 4 prostate cancer 16 years ago. He continued to embrace life every waking minute until the last week. His wife and adult children were with him when he passed away at home, also with the wonderful help from Hospice workers. Thank goodness for them. My “sista” thankfully meets with a bereavement counselor, but mostly cries a lot. Grief comes to each of us in different forms, her other friends and I coax her out for walks and hikes, meals and time with dogs, which is her favorite pastime right now. Meeting each day with grace, gratitude and kindness is my current mantra.
So lovely, Allison. Thank you for sharing that. It sounds like your heart sister's husband had what I call a Good Death. And it's wonderful how you and her other sisters are now taking care of her. Also, your mantra is perfect. So inspiring!