I wish you didn’t know the feelings that you describe so vividly. Your words convey the utter desolation of losing a child unflinching, with such awareness. Though I am so fortunate to not know this particular loss, I better understand those who have.
Particularly poignant is the way this experience opened you to deeper feeling and compassion for all of life. How extraordinary that you didn’t simply shut down and shut others out. Thank you for sharing these very private moments so you can teach us all.
Thank you, Karin, for reading and responding. It's extraordinary that you take the time to understand this dark place when you don't have to be here. It often feels like an exclusive club because it's not a place to visit unless you have to be here, which makes it feel so lonely. Bless you for stepping into the unknown. It's a beautiful sign of compassion.
Dear Nikki, I read this with my hand over my heart. “It refuses to leave us and moves right in” — you’ve named something i feel so deeply too. The breaking that makes room. The child who keeps teaching us from the other side of an absence. Your words found the place where my own grief lives.
Thank you for cracking open in front of us. It’s a gift, and I know what it costs. Sending you so much love, from one mother to another.💜💜
Thanks for your comment Rea. I'm sorry for your loss...so difficult!
I felt still in that other dimension for a long time. Sometimes, I still do. It's a powerful, life-changing event that we never completely get over or forget.
Sorry I missed this first time round, Nikki. It moved me so much. And I so recognised those early days in your descriptions of trying to just BE in this profound grief.
Music is so powerful and so is your writing. We lost my nephew in 2003 and whenever I hear the Kenny Chesney song “Who You’d Be Today” I know two things. One, I still miss him. Two, he is saying hello. Your ability to share the grief will help so many people. Thank you.
Thank you Nikki for this post. I love the grief image of the shattered lego pieces, the pain of having to walk barefoot on them, and the hard work of putting them back together again. After Alix died, I was more open to the pain of my loss and that of others and grateful for the supportive community we have built for each other. Thinking of you and Garrett and his first Celebration of Life!
Thank you, Julie! Thank you for clarifying why people think this is the first anniversary. When he passed in August, 2023, we had two celebrations - one soon after, for all his friends, and another, 3 weeks later for family and close friends, at our home. I need to be more clear on that, so thank you! And I, too, and soooo grateful for our community here, on Substack!
I’m so glad you are here on Substack as part of the community! I love our connections. Thank you for clarifying the celebrations! They all are a wonderful way to bring people together and honor and remember Garrett.
Getting comfortable with grief. It hangs with us everyday. What a true look at the raw emotions returning to our memories of first knowing. The Lego pieces scattered will they ever be put back again. Beautifully explained a mother’s grief.
I felt every single word of this Nikki. What you write about the pain in 'saying the words out loud that Garrett had died' I can so identify with from my own experience of loss. Sending love 🙏❤️
No factory setting for us. One we are building and growing moment by moment. Love has to find a place to land. Yours most certainly has, Nikki. My gratitude. Garrett, your ☀️, 🌕 and ✨. The entire cosmos. Forever in one another’s orbit.
Thank you, Tami. Actually, the anniversary is in August, but I think about him every single day, most of the day. His son is doing so much better after lifting that weight of guilt off of him. Thank you!
I wish you didn’t know the feelings that you describe so vividly. Your words convey the utter desolation of losing a child unflinching, with such awareness. Though I am so fortunate to not know this particular loss, I better understand those who have.
Particularly poignant is the way this experience opened you to deeper feeling and compassion for all of life. How extraordinary that you didn’t simply shut down and shut others out. Thank you for sharing these very private moments so you can teach us all.
Thank you, Karin, for reading and responding. It's extraordinary that you take the time to understand this dark place when you don't have to be here. It often feels like an exclusive club because it's not a place to visit unless you have to be here, which makes it feel so lonely. Bless you for stepping into the unknown. It's a beautiful sign of compassion.
Dear Nikki, I read this with my hand over my heart. “It refuses to leave us and moves right in” — you’ve named something i feel so deeply too. The breaking that makes room. The child who keeps teaching us from the other side of an absence. Your words found the place where my own grief lives.
Thank you for cracking open in front of us. It’s a gift, and I know what it costs. Sending you so much love, from one mother to another.💜💜
Kelly, your writing really resonates with me, as well. Thank you, I feel your love, and reciprocate right back. Hugs!
"I felt lost, thrown into another dimension."
This is exactly how I felt when I saw my son Emile's lifeless body. I was convinced it was a nightmare.
Sending peace and love.
Thanks for your comment Rea. I'm sorry for your loss...so difficult!
I felt still in that other dimension for a long time. Sometimes, I still do. It's a powerful, life-changing event that we never completely get over or forget.
It changes us irrevocably.
Sorry I missed this first time round, Nikki. It moved me so much. And I so recognised those early days in your descriptions of trying to just BE in this profound grief.
Restacked ❤️❤️❤️
Thank you, Esther! Sometimes it's hard to keep up with all the great posts, isn't it?
I always appreciate you! Hugs!
Music is so powerful and so is your writing. We lost my nephew in 2003 and whenever I hear the Kenny Chesney song “Who You’d Be Today” I know two things. One, I still miss him. Two, he is saying hello. Your ability to share the grief will help so many people. Thank you.
That's exactly what shines through in songs. I love this!
As always, Shannon, I appreciate your support in the conversation.
Thank you Nikki for this post. I love the grief image of the shattered lego pieces, the pain of having to walk barefoot on them, and the hard work of putting them back together again. After Alix died, I was more open to the pain of my loss and that of others and grateful for the supportive community we have built for each other. Thinking of you and Garrett and his first Celebration of Life!
Thank you, Julie! Thank you for clarifying why people think this is the first anniversary. When he passed in August, 2023, we had two celebrations - one soon after, for all his friends, and another, 3 weeks later for family and close friends, at our home. I need to be more clear on that, so thank you! And I, too, and soooo grateful for our community here, on Substack!
I’m so glad you are here on Substack as part of the community! I love our connections. Thank you for clarifying the celebrations! They all are a wonderful way to bring people together and honor and remember Garrett.
Getting comfortable with grief. It hangs with us everyday. What a true look at the raw emotions returning to our memories of first knowing. The Lego pieces scattered will they ever be put back again. Beautifully explained a mother’s grief.
Thank you, Pam. As always, thank you for your continued support! Hugs!
I felt every single word of this Nikki. What you write about the pain in 'saying the words out loud that Garrett had died' I can so identify with from my own experience of loss. Sending love 🙏❤️
I wish we didn't know the feeling, but I'm glad to have some company. Sending love right back!
No factory setting for us. One we are building and growing moment by moment. Love has to find a place to land. Yours most certainly has, Nikki. My gratitude. Garrett, your ☀️, 🌕 and ✨. The entire cosmos. Forever in one another’s orbit.
Dear Joanie, you always know just what to say to lift my spirit. Thank you!
Where will the laughter go? Nikki --- hugging you so hard right now. See you soon girlfriend. Loving you from afar.
Stace, I always feel the love from you. Thank you!
Beautiful! Didn’t realize it will be his anniversary., thinking of you. Xo
Thank you, Tami. Actually, the anniversary is in August, but I think about him every single day, most of the day. His son is doing so much better after lifting that weight of guilt off of him. Thank you!
Wow I don’t think I realized when I did your reading (s) that it was that recent.
My dad’s 5 year anniversary is in sept and I still miss him everyday but thankful for the signs. ❤️🩹