Letter to the ones who grieve

Know this: it is okay to sink, fall, fail, give up and come apart

Welcome. If you’re new here, I’m a writer, new mama, and grieving daughter, exploring what it means to fully embrace the creative messiness of life. I share whole-hearted, weekly reflections to help us remember our shared humanity. The best way to support the Heartbeats community is to become a paying subscriber for $5/mo, (less than a fancy cup of coffee).

Thank you for your presence here. 💞

Hello.

I write this, days before a time of gathering and gratitude. Grief, a word I never thought would pair with thanksgiving, yet how often I’ve used them together, an unlikely twin, a paradox my chest is still trying to hold.

Photo credit: Mariah Friend

The holidays can be especially painful for those experiencing loss. Sometimes, it’s easier to put on a mask, go through the motions, string the lights, and wear the party dress, grief cloaked by the need to forget, for a moment.

And sometimes, pretending we are anything but ravaged by the cost of loving this world and each other is too much to bear.

May this poem hold you, just for a moment. May you feel cradled in love, just as you are. May you feel the strength of your heart, and mine and ours, beating in time.

Letter to the ones who grieve

Dear One,

I do not know all that you are grieving, the various names for the loss coursing through your veins. I cannot see your tears or hear your defiant (sometimes bitter) laughter, despite the impossible. I do not know the anniversaries of pain that will never show themselves on anyone else’s calendar, known intimately in your heart’s interior. 

I cannot know Why, though I have asked and puzzled many times. I do not have enough softness in my body to lessen the blow or catch you when you fall. My bones are jagged, my edges hardened by the erosion of time.

There is no going back and moving forward is a mockingbird promise inside a hollow chest. Up does not always follow down and through can be a trick of the mind.

Yet. 

I believe in the grace of falling leaves and the silence of fresh snow. I trust the seed breaking open in total darkness, not knowing the delight of a soft sunray. 

Somedays, I’m able to greet grief, not as a thief but a friend. An alchemy I may never understand, like how green things are fed by light and irises bloom in the night.

Now, the days grow shorter and strength may be a far-off beacon, not yet seen on a turbulent sea. In times of deepest despair, when the salt in your lungs from the unhealed wounds takes your breath away, know this: it is okay to sink, fall, fail, give up and come apart. 

There is nothing more human than that.

Photo by Adarsh Kummur on Unsplash

All my love,
Mariah

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