❤️🩹“…what happens when we humans pry open the walls of our tucked-away parts—our hearts known to tremble, our brains bursting with questions and doomsday scenarios, and whatever is the vessel where the deepest empathies stir.”
Just before I opened your post with the thoughtful words above, Roshi Joan Halifax words popped into my box. And so I had to go back immediately to find them. She writes. “When we treat suffering as a private event we amputate it from its causes and deprive the sufferer of the one medicine that addresses the root, which is the experience of not being alone.”
My dear friend, you who shows up in my life in the hardest and most beautiful moments, may Eileen and Anne’s voices, words, and spirit be with you through the dark tunnels and stay when you emerge blinking into the light outside to pick up all the mundane pieces of your day and life. You were there for them and they will, forever, be with you.
I am remembering a mutual connection to a dear Hummingbird, Mary Ellen Sullivan, whose heart felt spoken and written words (filled with humor, grace) kept me on my toes, reflecting, and paying attention. They still do and a small ceramic holder that says Gratitude with me still.
Into The Woods we go. And with Gratitude, I have a sturdy crew beside me and know that I am not alone and may I be that friend for another and another and another. ❤️🩹
Dear darling, even in the depths of your own grief, you come bearing light. And wisdom. And hope. I love the line from Roshi Joan. It’s a new way to think of it, though I know I instinctively seem to know of which she speaks. In exposing our tender parts, our broken parts, we stand arms wide to the universe saying: here I am. Hold me. Let me hold you. Sending love to you into the woods. ❤️❤️
Lord, have mercy. My heart is crushed for you. Prayed a rosary for you yesterday on the CTA ride out of the City. I find I have no words anymore. Except: love you.
And I love you back. My heart is crushed for her girls. There is something both uncanny and mysterious about how closely I can feel both Annie and Eileen—it’s as if our reach extends right through the veil. And oh Lord, it saves me. They are always with me. Love does that.
Thank you for sharing the stories of your soul sisters. I didn’t know Eileen, but I knew Annie. It was heartwarming (and a little bit heartbreaking too) to see her writing here this morning.
My beloved friend during a scary cancer season was Colleen who had been through a much much scarier season of the same kind of cancer. Her extraordinary humor, very practical advice, kindness, and deep faith kept me on an even keel way back in 1997 and 1998. She died about 20 years ago after that same cancer came back with a vengeance. During that second long journey, Colleen carried on with her trademark humor, grit, and grace.
and i reply with a tear in MY eye....we are so, so, inexplicably blessed to have these "saints" in our souls, where they reside—radiant—forever. i find their courage SO contagious, and for someone who is a self-proclaimed scaredy cat that courage is nothing short of life-saving. i am holding your colleen and you in my deepest down heart today. sending love. always. (p.s. i let annie's mama know i thought i'd be quoting from one of her letters. i would never ever spring that on anyone....) xox
Thank you for sharing this divine morsel of the intimacy, humor, and beauty A & E brought you, and you them. It's clear why you were drawn to the radiant light of these women. You, dear Barbie, are the ping for so many. Sending extra love today. xo
I am so, so sorry for your losses. But thank you for sharing—through your sorrow— these wonderful women with us. What a little jolt of life. Sending love. ❤️
So hard to read, Barb, but so heartening. I'm so sorry you've lost these two incredible women. It's the people who show up in our darkest moments who become the most precious, the ones we rely on to answer the phone when what we're going through is making us shake to our very souls. Saying prayers for the families of these two. Can't imagine how much their families will miss them. Hope you get a chance to walk in the woods or sit by the lake today. It's very hard to carry all this.
❤️🩹“…what happens when we humans pry open the walls of our tucked-away parts—our hearts known to tremble, our brains bursting with questions and doomsday scenarios, and whatever is the vessel where the deepest empathies stir.”
Just before I opened your post with the thoughtful words above, Roshi Joan Halifax words popped into my box. And so I had to go back immediately to find them. She writes. “When we treat suffering as a private event we amputate it from its causes and deprive the sufferer of the one medicine that addresses the root, which is the experience of not being alone.”
My dear friend, you who shows up in my life in the hardest and most beautiful moments, may Eileen and Anne’s voices, words, and spirit be with you through the dark tunnels and stay when you emerge blinking into the light outside to pick up all the mundane pieces of your day and life. You were there for them and they will, forever, be with you.
I am remembering a mutual connection to a dear Hummingbird, Mary Ellen Sullivan, whose heart felt spoken and written words (filled with humor, grace) kept me on my toes, reflecting, and paying attention. They still do and a small ceramic holder that says Gratitude with me still.
Into The Woods we go. And with Gratitude, I have a sturdy crew beside me and know that I am not alone and may I be that friend for another and another and another. ❤️🩹
Dear darling, even in the depths of your own grief, you come bearing light. And wisdom. And hope. I love the line from Roshi Joan. It’s a new way to think of it, though I know I instinctively seem to know of which she speaks. In exposing our tender parts, our broken parts, we stand arms wide to the universe saying: here I am. Hold me. Let me hold you. Sending love to you into the woods. ❤️❤️
Lord, have mercy. My heart is crushed for you. Prayed a rosary for you yesterday on the CTA ride out of the City. I find I have no words anymore. Except: love you.
And I love you back. My heart is crushed for her girls. There is something both uncanny and mysterious about how closely I can feel both Annie and Eileen—it’s as if our reach extends right through the veil. And oh Lord, it saves me. They are always with me. Love does that.
Oh my word! A profoundly harrowing challenging missive. so powerfully told, clearly and to the point, using their first person writings.
Oh my word. Those women and you are so courageous to lay bare the truth of that path.
Oh my word!!
❤️
Thank you for sharing the stories of your soul sisters. I didn’t know Eileen, but I knew Annie. It was heartwarming (and a little bit heartbreaking too) to see her writing here this morning.
My beloved friend during a scary cancer season was Colleen who had been through a much much scarier season of the same kind of cancer. Her extraordinary humor, very practical advice, kindness, and deep faith kept me on an even keel way back in 1997 and 1998. She died about 20 years ago after that same cancer came back with a vengeance. During that second long journey, Colleen carried on with her trademark humor, grit, and grace.
and i reply with a tear in MY eye....we are so, so, inexplicably blessed to have these "saints" in our souls, where they reside—radiant—forever. i find their courage SO contagious, and for someone who is a self-proclaimed scaredy cat that courage is nothing short of life-saving. i am holding your colleen and you in my deepest down heart today. sending love. always. (p.s. i let annie's mama know i thought i'd be quoting from one of her letters. i would never ever spring that on anyone....) xox
Thank you for sharing this divine morsel of the intimacy, humor, and beauty A & E brought you, and you them. It's clear why you were drawn to the radiant light of these women. You, dear Barbie, are the ping for so many. Sending extra love today. xo
It’s my blessing to hold them to the light. Radiant, indeed. And eternal.
I am so, so sorry for your losses. But thank you for sharing—through your sorrow— these wonderful women with us. What a little jolt of life. Sending love. ❤️
No words. Sending hugs and love. ❤️
So hard to read, Barb, but so heartening. I'm so sorry you've lost these two incredible women. It's the people who show up in our darkest moments who become the most precious, the ones we rely on to answer the phone when what we're going through is making us shake to our very souls. Saying prayers for the families of these two. Can't imagine how much their families will miss them. Hope you get a chance to walk in the woods or sit by the lake today. It's very hard to carry all this.
❤️❤️