I did that, your words made me realize that’s exactly what I did when my husband died. It’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me but I harnessed the grief and used it to push me into a new life.
What a comforting message to read late at night, Abby. Thank you. I get frustrated that it is taking me so long to write my small pieces about grief. I like your image of a tornado picking up and dropping the material in my lap. Your insistence that we “make something” out of the material that falls to us feels just right—however long it takes.
I often find smooth river rocks when hiking along the water near the trails by my house. Sometimes, it feels as if they're guiding me, showing me the way; their silent messages powerful and steady.
Grief goes from an awareness to an omnipresent consort when it's your grief. Thank you for expressing what all the grief advisors and articles missed--you don't move through it because it's here to stay. Instead, you have to do something with it. Great advice. Just own it and then use all of it.
I don't open every substack that I'm subscribed to, but I open every one of yours. Thank you for this. I'm so grateful you're here. x
Thank you very much.
I did that, your words made me realize that’s exactly what I did when my husband died. It’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me but I harnessed the grief and used it to push me into a new life.
I'm so glad for you. And thank you.
What a comforting message to read late at night, Abby. Thank you. I get frustrated that it is taking me so long to write my small pieces about grief. I like your image of a tornado picking up and dropping the material in my lap. Your insistence that we “make something” out of the material that falls to us feels just right—however long it takes.
It really helps. Thank you.
Oh, WOW!!! I love the thought and worship the power and artistry of expression. Thank you.
Thank you so much.
I love this piece.
Thank you, Judy.
Use all of it!
Thank you, Nancy.
I love this. And I’m trying to use all of it.
It will get easier, I hope. Thank you.
Imagine a tornado landing on your lap, use all of it
It is yours
Terrific dear Abby
Thank you Prajna. So glad you liked it.
So many shiny & twisted bits of things saved & waiting…
and things from off the floor and in the sink and from the trees and everywhere. Thank you.
yep, a little at a time. but it's never used up.
Never.
The tornado — amazing, wonderful image. Thank you.
No, thank YOU.
I often find smooth river rocks when hiking along the water near the trails by my house. Sometimes, it feels as if they're guiding me, showing me the way; their silent messages powerful and steady.
I bet they are.
Love love love. You did it again. Oof.
Thank you, thank you.
I love this, Abby. Thank you for this wonderful, true reminder! Love you!
Thank you, darling Ingeborg.
Grief goes from an awareness to an omnipresent consort when it's your grief. Thank you for expressing what all the grief advisors and articles missed--you don't move through it because it's here to stay. Instead, you have to do something with it. Great advice. Just own it and then use all of it.
Yes, nohing too small to fit. Thank you.
Thanks Abby, good advice. When I finally wrote about my grief (son died) it became more manageable. Will always be there, but fading...
That must be very hard. Thank you for sharing such a tragedy.