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It didn’t behave
like anything you had
ever imagined. The wind
tore at the trees, the rain
fell for days slant and hard.
The back of the hand
to everything. I watched
the trees bow and their leaves fall
and crawl back into the earth.
As though, that was that.
This was one hurricane
I lived through, the other one
was of a different sort, and
lasted longer. Then
I felt my own leaves giving up and
falling. The back of the hand to
everything. But listen now to what happened
to the actual trees;
toward the end of that summer, they
pushed new leaves from their stubbed limbs.
It was the wrong season, yes,
but they couldn’t stop. They
looked like telephone poles and didn’t
care. And after the leaves came
blossoms. For some things,
there are no wrong seasons.
Which is what I dream of for me.​

Two Worlds

Imagery is powerful for many people but has been especially so for me as I walk the path of the suicide loss of my younger son. I bought this small pillow many years ago because I thought the image on it was interesting. Since my son’s death, it has become more than a decor accent; it is a reminder of the spaces my son and I occupy.  It is a visual reminder that our relationship continues and that we see each other and acknowledge the worlds beyond even as we understand we cannot live in the same one. 

The stems of the lotus flowers are the ties that bind our love. These ties do not adhere to boundaries as we understand them and reveal a depth and beauty that is symbiotic and continues to nurture us both. That is what keeps our worlds connected – pure love. I believe this is what many of us search for – the knowledge that death doesn’t end love or a relationship, but rather it offers a peek into a vastness beyond our imagination. 

With prayers for strength and peace, 


The Beauty that Still Remains

“I don’t think of all the misery, but of the beauty that still remains.” ~Anne Frank

I often hang my hat on a quote. It’s the peg I choose and use to refresh my mindset for the day.

I go for those that whisper hope and grant me courage to start each day anew. Such is this.

It’s been over two years since my son, my only child, took his life.

The years embedded, but the overflow months, no longer a reflex, require counting on my fingers.

“I don’t think of all the misery, but of the beauty that still remains.”

Grieving the loss of his physical presence, the hopes and dreams I carried for him present and future, that part has been a difficult climb. But I take the zig-zag trail now instead of the steepest route.

There I can catch my breath.

Along that gentler trail, he walks by my side. The tenderness of his heart resides in mine and his smile somehow shines brighter than before, radiating warmth and lighting my way.

Not simply deep desires, these things are palpable.

“I don’t think of all the misery, but of the beauty that still remains.”

Longing remains . . . how could it not? But it’s not all misery.

I do my best to avoid background noise and see deeper beauty in the quiet of simple things. Mostly nature.

Mother Nature continues to be both Teacher and Healer.

So strongly my son resides within, maybe he brings that clarity. I see for the two of us now.

Perhaps it is my job, as his mom, to always seek and show him the beauty he somehow lost sight of.

The beauty that still remains.

The ties that bind . . . perhaps we show that beauty to each other.

Humpty Dumpty and Me

“Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men, couldn’t put Humpty together again.”

I can commiserate with Humpty. The great fall of losing my son to suicide has left me, amongst other things, feeling fragile as an egg. Actually, when I stop and think about it, my grief has an awful lot in common with an egg.

I’ve felt…


And some days, hours, moments even, Sunnyside up.

Yes, old Humpty and I have a lot in common.

About the Author

Wisdom From Our Community

"Wisdom From Our Community" posts originally appeared on the Alliance of Hope Forum for Suicide Loss Survivors and are reprinted with the permission of the authors. Our online forum transcends time and distance, offering a culture of kindness, hope, and understanding to people who have lost loved ones to suicide. Operating like a 24/7 support group, our forum is supervised by a mental health professional and moderated by a trained team of loss survivors. Members can read and comment, share their stories, and connect with other suicide loss survivors.Read More »

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They Live On …

“People you love never die. … They live in your mind, the way they always lived inside you. You keep their light alive. If you remember them well enough, they can still guide you, like the shine of long-extinguished stars could guide ships in unfamiliar waters.” ~Matt Haig, H

As Valentine’s Day approaches, I am present to the love I feel for friends and family – those who are alive and those who have passed. And I am grateful for the love they extend to me. Quite honestly, I don’t know how I could manage without it.

The love I feel towards those dear ones who have passed has never lessened. I still feel connected to them – not in this physical life, but through memories, thoughts, dreams, and signs.

When I read posts on our forum, I know I am not alone in this feeling, for beneath all the shock and pain, there is an undying love and connectedness expressed for those who have died.

I see this love reflected on the Alliance of Hope Memorial Wall, where dedications reflect the love and bonds that continue between survivors and those who have passed. Our loved ones had talents, made contributions, and touched many lives. The shock and pain surrounding their manner of death does not negate who they were, nor the love we felt for them.

I am grateful that much has changed – and continues to change, in the landscape that surrounds grief. In decades past, the bereaved were often encouraged to cut bonds and “move forward.” Grief theorists saw holding onto a relationship with the deceased as pathological. Yet, the theory had little to do with how people really processed their grief. 

We now recognize that deep bonds are not severed by death. Our loved ones are still beloved members of our families and communities, though they exist in a different form. While their physical bodies are no longer present, their essence continues to inform and enrich our daily lives.

This Valentine’s Day, as always, I send my love to the Alliance of Hope community. I am so grateful for the love and kindness expressed here. I invite you to visit the Alliance of Hope Memorial Wall, and add a memorial for your loved one, if so inclined.