Please know that your beautiful Mila lives on in the minds and hearts of your readers. Because of her unique gifts that you conveyed to us so lovingly -- her hockey prowess, her love for animals, her kindness to her parents, her talent for writing -- I think of her often. I never met her, but I often hope my little girl will grow up to be as fearless and loving as Mila, much as I aspire to be like Mila's amazing mama.
Your words are my words. It's been 1 year since my seventeen year old son, Jack, died by suicide. I hear you and I see you, wholly and completely. Thank you for your honesty in all that is light & dark.
Given no restraints I would like to crotchet two very large and wholesome blankets, fly across the oceans with them in a basket beneath me and drop them at your front door to be wrapped around you both when needed. That tendency for human beings to give others 'space' like we live in some Victorian era with hearts made from 'polite society' stone man oh man, it's a secondary, additional injury that - in an ideal world - would never be added to an already aching heart. I find this cowardice so disheartening, always have. And you really do get a front row seat when something beyond comprehension occurs. It's hard. Took years for me to realise that it was - in most cases - cowardice guiding the withholding of presence and support, and not some spiteful choice. Took many MORE years to find compassion for those who lacked such simple courage and humanity. I don't think it's conscious for many and how found peace with this (finally). And I know, I know you wouldn't want much focus on this small part of your words today but I appreciate you addressing this way too common phenomenon. Now, these dragonflies. They just keep breaking through, don't they......
Thank you for the crocheted blankets. I feel them there, warming us.
I know these things aren't spiteful and they come from an unconscious place. It's the 'human condition'. It's just such a disappointing one. Still, you learn to let it go, blow to the winds. But I am forever changed and what I want from my life, from my relationships is different now too. We evolve, yes, but it's a refinement too. A smaller world, but ever deeper.
So happy and grateful to see you posting your unique, profound, moving, raw, and relatable musings again, Tara, and with your usual eloquence and word-craft. Thank you for sharing.
Tara you show us the true power of transformation and how it's comes to us in both elation and grief. Through your pain you teach us how to redefine out human programming and turn up in the hear and now in both elation and pain. Through your agony Mila holds a light of possibility for the rest of us, she's still in that light reminding us to love. The two of you, flesh and essence, turn up in service to all who are blessed to read. I thank you both for where you take me.
I think of Mila often. I think of her not only for the unique and profound voice that she was, having been gifted her writings and musings on here, but I think of her when I read and experience the troubling political rumblings being inflicted on our youth. I want to cry out, “But we’re losing our Mila’s!” And what a crime that is. I think of her, and I grieve for you.
Please know that your beautiful Mila lives on in the minds and hearts of your readers. Because of her unique gifts that you conveyed to us so lovingly -- her hockey prowess, her love for animals, her kindness to her parents, her talent for writing -- I think of her often. I never met her, but I often hope my little girl will grow up to be as fearless and loving as Mila, much as I aspire to be like Mila's amazing mama.
Oh, Reshma, thank you. Your generous heart is such a gift. Thank you, thank you.
Tara, your words echo my life since losing my daughter. I send you and your family my love and compassion.
My love in return, Shirley. Thank you.
Your words are my words. It's been 1 year since my seventeen year old son, Jack, died by suicide. I hear you and I see you, wholly and completely. Thank you for your honesty in all that is light & dark.
Sarah and Jack. My prayers and love for today, and all my days, to Sarah and Jack. I am so sorry. I am with you.
Given no restraints I would like to crotchet two very large and wholesome blankets, fly across the oceans with them in a basket beneath me and drop them at your front door to be wrapped around you both when needed. That tendency for human beings to give others 'space' like we live in some Victorian era with hearts made from 'polite society' stone man oh man, it's a secondary, additional injury that - in an ideal world - would never be added to an already aching heart. I find this cowardice so disheartening, always have. And you really do get a front row seat when something beyond comprehension occurs. It's hard. Took years for me to realise that it was - in most cases - cowardice guiding the withholding of presence and support, and not some spiteful choice. Took many MORE years to find compassion for those who lacked such simple courage and humanity. I don't think it's conscious for many and how found peace with this (finally). And I know, I know you wouldn't want much focus on this small part of your words today but I appreciate you addressing this way too common phenomenon. Now, these dragonflies. They just keep breaking through, don't they......
Thank you for the crocheted blankets. I feel them there, warming us.
I know these things aren't spiteful and they come from an unconscious place. It's the 'human condition'. It's just such a disappointing one. Still, you learn to let it go, blow to the winds. But I am forever changed and what I want from my life, from my relationships is different now too. We evolve, yes, but it's a refinement too. A smaller world, but ever deeper.
The dragonflies... relentless little things. xo
Thank you for sharing your grief and grieving process. A beautiful piece.
Thank you, Chris and Erika.
So happy and grateful to see you posting your unique, profound, moving, raw, and relatable musings again, Tara, and with your usual eloquence and word-craft. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you, Debbie. xo
Thank you
Tara you show us the true power of transformation and how it's comes to us in both elation and grief. Through your pain you teach us how to redefine out human programming and turn up in the hear and now in both elation and pain. Through your agony Mila holds a light of possibility for the rest of us, she's still in that light reminding us to love. The two of you, flesh and essence, turn up in service to all who are blessed to read. I thank you both for where you take me.
Thank you for sharing your heart. Sending love and hugs to you and your family <3
I think of Mila often. I think of her not only for the unique and profound voice that she was, having been gifted her writings and musings on here, but I think of her when I read and experience the troubling political rumblings being inflicted on our youth. I want to cry out, “But we’re losing our Mila’s!” And what a crime that is. I think of her, and I grieve for you.
Thank you, Martine.