Very moved by this, Dave. Those who live in grief daily so I am sending this to my sister @allysparkles
Parker Palmer teaches that you just sit with someone when they are in such pain. Just want to say to Meg that I am sitting with you both this morning on the other side of the world, thinking of you.
Cheers, Dave. Glad you are timing out. Quiet time and a chance to rest is key. Thanks for looking at Ally's substack. Sending you both very warm wishes.
Having almost lost my youngest son to PPROM when I was pregnant, I can relate to what Meg is feeling right now. I am on the verge of tears. My two sons are now 12 and 14. Even their slightest of pain almost stops my heart. The death of a child is unbearable. But Meg braves on. I wish it becomes easier for her even though I know it will not. Please send me condolences to her.
What beautiful haikus, Dave. You have such a gift. And what a befitting expression, 'To worship the storm'. We are the sum of our experiences ... that's so true.
I have passed on your kind words to Meg. She is still feeling the old pain which never truly ages but she deeply appreciates your care, one Mother to another.
When Sean died I had only known her for the last 12 years of that 20 year journey. Now that day itself is more than 15 years ago. 15 more years of love and learning.
We no longer live in caves, but some things remain a mystery.
Dear Dave and beautiful Meg. My prayers are for you both tonight. My mothers heart breaks a little for Meg. I do know that in moments of tendering loss having a safe harbour is such a blessing. To harbour and be able to witness another without rushing in to fix is love in action. To bring poetry a little divine:)
M is still lying quietly in our cave. I’m out helping two of the youngest members of the tribe, but I will return home soon with food and love and we will have a quiet evening.
We each help the other as best we can. Sometimes, yes, that is just being there..
Your message made me cry. Meg also, when I took it to her…
Grief should never make us feel alone. It is the price of living… and we are both acutely aware that this particular kind of grief is all too common. Your words remind us….
I have just seen your post about Alyssa.
We would throw our arms around you if we could. You are not alone.
We will look at the stars tonight, and think of Sean and Alyssa, and yourself also.
Grief - and Joy - are the common currencies of life. We earn both. We all learn both. These experiences can bind us together - I am truly glad that this was meaningful for you.
Dave - this poem of 6 gorgeous haikus and your profound love of Meg are such a balm for every heavy heart. You are a gem and your writing touches my soul. I am thankful to call you friend💛💛💛
Dave, what a moving storm of grief you have walked us through. I am in awe, always, of the love you and Meg share and the way in which you see her so deeply, that you can find the poem living inside of her and bring it to life with such tenderness. Sending you threads of love to wrap around your grief and the ever-evolving ways it shapes our lives.
Posts like this remind me that my own struggles are quite small. And the strength I find in other stories is of the right kind of contagious. It helps to read as much as I hope it helps for others to write it out.
I understand the feeling. Soon after I met her, as we were becoming friends, my wonderful woman told me some of her story. Over time I heard much more, including of other griefs.
At that early telling however she reminded me that every life and every sadness is unique and there is little point in comparison. You deal with what you have to deal with - and you help others where you can - and you mourn when you need to and then you go on living. It's not a grief competition.
These were wise words, it seemed to me, and I try to honour them.
Even so, when I know she is hurting I feel exactly as you feel, and I admire her quiet strength. I have an innate urge to try and "fix" things but I know this can't be "fixed." This is just part of who she is.
Writing about it, I suppose, is part of who I am. It is an expression of my love.
I was moved to tears by this poem and the accompanying prose, but when I went to type up a comment it felt insufficient, so I said a prayer for you and Meg instead of typing anything right away. Sometimes on Substack I have to circle back to a poem after it has sat with me a while. Thank you for sharing all of this, for living and for writing courageously.
My wonderful woman will feel this deeply. She has sheltered from the world for a week and yesterday emerged with the quiet courage she always finds.
Despite a severe rotator cuff injury which is causing her great pain and making it hard to use her dominant arm at all, plus a steadily deteriorating hip joint which makes walking equally painful, she came for a long trek on a rough track through a dense rainforest to one of our favourite secluded swimming places - a narrow pool of crystal clear water swirling below a high granite outcrop.
She then leapt off the 4 metre drop into the cool depths below!
Oh, so beautiful! Swimming in a cool rainforest pool sounds restorative in every way. Praying strength and peace for you, my friends. We’ve had one of the snowiest winters I can remember, so our boys have been staying busy with snow forts and sledding and endless games of football with all the neighbor kids. They somehow come in out of the cold sweating and rosy cheeked with mammalian strength. It makes me realize how grateful I am to be warm blooded. LOL.
Living in our warmer climate, we have many. A 4 metre long Diamond Python lives in our roof. A large family of Water Dragons live on the river bank and they roam our garden.
I love Snow - partly because it is such a rarity for us to see any. It is technically possible to get a snow flurry on our nearest mountain peaks, 80 minutes drive in land, but I have never managed to catch it happening. Otherwise, it's a 12 hour drive in Winter to reach the higher mountains in the South, where I used to go cross country skiing long ago (when I lived just 6 hours drive away).
Raising children in a cold climate must be an extra challenge - but all those opportunities for winter fun, also.
Water dragons and a diamond python! Wow! That is amazing. Life is certainly an adventure, whether we are grappling with our snowy climes or our reptile neighbors. Thank you, as always, for your thoughtful interaction my friend.
So sorry for Meg’s struggle and loss and proud of you for being such a loving friend and partner to her. I just celebrated my twins’ 36th birthday with them, born on Jan 22, 1990. And grateful every day for them. It wasn’t an easy birth.
Very moved by this, Dave. Those who live in grief daily so I am sending this to my sister @allysparkles
Parker Palmer teaches that you just sit with someone when they are in such pain. Just want to say to Meg that I am sitting with you both this morning on the other side of the world, thinking of you.
Thank you, friend Richard, good man that you are.
I timed out on replying yesterday - M and I had a quiet evening and she is sleeping again today, so now I am catching up.
I just looked up your Sister's Substack, and sent her a comment. I can see she is living with a long grief. She writes some beautiful things...
Best Wishes - Dave
Cheers, Dave. Glad you are timing out. Quiet time and a chance to rest is key. Thanks for looking at Ally's substack. Sending you both very warm wishes.
Having almost lost my youngest son to PPROM when I was pregnant, I can relate to what Meg is feeling right now. I am on the verge of tears. My two sons are now 12 and 14. Even their slightest of pain almost stops my heart. The death of a child is unbearable. But Meg braves on. I wish it becomes easier for her even though I know it will not. Please send me condolences to her.
What beautiful haikus, Dave. You have such a gift. And what a befitting expression, 'To worship the storm'. We are the sum of our experiences ... that's so true.
Dear Nazish
I have passed on your kind words to Meg. She is still feeling the old pain which never truly ages but she deeply appreciates your care, one Mother to another.
When Sean died I had only known her for the last 12 years of that 20 year journey. Now that day itself is more than 15 years ago. 15 more years of love and learning.
We no longer live in caves, but some things remain a mystery.
Best Wishes - Dave
Dear Dave and beautiful Meg. My prayers are for you both tonight. My mothers heart breaks a little for Meg. I do know that in moments of tendering loss having a safe harbour is such a blessing. To harbour and be able to witness another without rushing in to fix is love in action. To bring poetry a little divine:)
Oh… dear Bernadette…
We send our thanks.
M is still lying quietly in our cave. I’m out helping two of the youngest members of the tribe, but I will return home soon with food and love and we will have a quiet evening.
We each help the other as best we can. Sometimes, yes, that is just being there..
We send our love
D and M
My thoughts are with you and Meg. Today is what I consider my sweet girl’s Rebirthday, when she became my StarChild.
✨💫🎂💫✨ May the stars be the candles on Sean’s cake
(((Hugs))) powerful read
Dear Marjorie…
Your message made me cry. Meg also, when I took it to her…
Grief should never make us feel alone. It is the price of living… and we are both acutely aware that this particular kind of grief is all too common. Your words remind us….
I have just seen your post about Alyssa.
We would throw our arms around you if we could. You are not alone.
We will look at the stars tonight, and think of Sean and Alyssa, and yourself also.
Love from us
D and M
Tonight I went to an open mic & read my poem “Don’t Blame the Moon” it was good to share.
Remember -
with friends
we laugh
we cry
and we laugh again
I think of Sean and Alyssa twinkling extra bright tonight ✨✨💫💫
My heart is with you both 🫶
Sending our love....
❤️ D & M ❤️
Wow, your poems are stunning and the love you share for your wise woman wife it so touching. Thank you! 🙏🏼
Dear Laura
Such kind words…. My thanks!
Grief - and Joy - are the common currencies of life. We earn both. We all learn both. These experiences can bind us together - I am truly glad that this was meaningful for you.
Very Best Wishes - Dave
Thank you Dave. 🙏🏼
Moved by this, David. I saw Hamnet last night, with its themes of love, loss and grief, and was remembering my ‘shadow child’. Very timely.
Oh, Wendy…
We too went to see Hamnet recently. We both sobbed uncontrollably, but we were not alone in that.
M would hug you if she could - one Mother to another.
We send our love
Dave and Meg
Thank you, David and Meg. Glad you saw Hamnet together. Raw but cathartic.
My mind is my cave too, Dave. Loved this verse.
You are lucky to have Meg and Meg to have you.
Dear Nikos
Kalispera!
It is late afternoon here, and I am catching up on messages. So lovely, yours.
Thank you my friend
Dave
Thank you for this Dave. It makes me feel as though I'm not alone and as you say our grief cannot be removed.. we have to face the storm.
Dave - this poem of 6 gorgeous haikus and your profound love of Meg are such a balm for every heavy heart. You are a gem and your writing touches my soul. I am thankful to call you friend💛💛💛
Thank you dear Holly!
I hope you are staying safe and well in the big freeze.
We are delighted to have you as a friend!
Best Wishes - Dave and Meg :)
Dave, what a moving storm of grief you have walked us through. I am in awe, always, of the love you and Meg share and the way in which you see her so deeply, that you can find the poem living inside of her and bring it to life with such tenderness. Sending you threads of love to wrap around your grief and the ever-evolving ways it shapes our lives.
Ohhhhh
Friend Ash, you bring luminosity with you, wherever you go. I think you and M would be kindred souls.
I do love her with every fibre, and if that shows in my poetry then I am glad.
Grief and joy are of the essence of life, and each implies the other. Yes - love wraps them together, and I feel your love in your words.
All of your writing brings light to the world.
Best Wishes - Dave
There’s so much love and tenderness and with it, a willingness to hold anything, running through this post and your beautiful haikus.
Thank you, Lisa. My wonderful lover, best friend, life partner....
She is also an artist, and we have some joint works here on Substack.
D :)
The loss of a child is a profound spiritual experience. Sending peace. 🙏
Posts like this remind me that my own struggles are quite small. And the strength I find in other stories is of the right kind of contagious. It helps to read as much as I hope it helps for others to write it out.
Good morning Cat
I understand the feeling. Soon after I met her, as we were becoming friends, my wonderful woman told me some of her story. Over time I heard much more, including of other griefs.
At that early telling however she reminded me that every life and every sadness is unique and there is little point in comparison. You deal with what you have to deal with - and you help others where you can - and you mourn when you need to and then you go on living. It's not a grief competition.
These were wise words, it seemed to me, and I try to honour them.
Even so, when I know she is hurting I feel exactly as you feel, and I admire her quiet strength. I have an innate urge to try and "fix" things but I know this can't be "fixed." This is just part of who she is.
Writing about it, I suppose, is part of who I am. It is an expression of my love.
Best Wishes - Dave
What a wise response. Yes, we can’t compare our capacity to suffer to others. But we can still be humbled by it all.
I was moved to tears by this poem and the accompanying prose, but when I went to type up a comment it felt insufficient, so I said a prayer for you and Meg instead of typing anything right away. Sometimes on Substack I have to circle back to a poem after it has sat with me a while. Thank you for sharing all of this, for living and for writing courageously.
Oh my friend.....
My wonderful woman will feel this deeply. She has sheltered from the world for a week and yesterday emerged with the quiet courage she always finds.
Despite a severe rotator cuff injury which is causing her great pain and making it hard to use her dominant arm at all, plus a steadily deteriorating hip joint which makes walking equally painful, she came for a long trek on a rough track through a dense rainforest to one of our favourite secluded swimming places - a narrow pool of crystal clear water swirling below a high granite outcrop.
She then leapt off the 4 metre drop into the cool depths below!
D :)
Oh, so beautiful! Swimming in a cool rainforest pool sounds restorative in every way. Praying strength and peace for you, my friends. We’ve had one of the snowiest winters I can remember, so our boys have been staying busy with snow forts and sledding and endless games of football with all the neighbor kids. They somehow come in out of the cold sweating and rosy cheeked with mammalian strength. It makes me realize how grateful I am to be warm blooded. LOL.
Ha! Reptiles have a harder time of it....
Living in our warmer climate, we have many. A 4 metre long Diamond Python lives in our roof. A large family of Water Dragons live on the river bank and they roam our garden.
I love Snow - partly because it is such a rarity for us to see any. It is technically possible to get a snow flurry on our nearest mountain peaks, 80 minutes drive in land, but I have never managed to catch it happening. Otherwise, it's a 12 hour drive in Winter to reach the higher mountains in the South, where I used to go cross country skiing long ago (when I lived just 6 hours drive away).
Raising children in a cold climate must be an extra challenge - but all those opportunities for winter fun, also.
Stay warm!
Best Wishes - Dave :)
Water dragons and a diamond python! Wow! That is amazing. Life is certainly an adventure, whether we are grappling with our snowy climes or our reptile neighbors. Thank you, as always, for your thoughtful interaction my friend.
So sorry for Meg’s struggle and loss and proud of you for being such a loving friend and partner to her. I just celebrated my twins’ 36th birthday with them, born on Jan 22, 1990. And grateful every day for them. It wasn’t an easy birth.
I think no Mother's journey is ever easy.
I was not there for the start of M's journey, but I have tried to help along the way, as she does for me.
Best Wishes - Dave
This is so beautiful, David!! So grateful for you and Meg, and for your love for one another!
Thank you, dear Alex. Hoping you and Brad are not freezing over there!
Best Wishes - Dave