I struggled to put In words the despair from our days of cancer with Joni. And this is that soul crushing world ending despair.. in words. 🖤
Thank you for the vulnerability and courage so find them. May you continue comfort wherever is comes. And know that this art is moving so so many of us.
Betsy. So good to see your name pop up. I hope you and your family are well. I'm sorry to hear you had to go through that with sweet Joni. What a nightmare. And I'm relieved to know that you're on the other side. I will certainly try to heed these words. One day at a time. Sending love and healing.
Matthew, my friend… thank you for your vulnerability, your tenderness, your grace. For your transparency, and your devotion to shaping new wings for yourself. I feel you taking flight through your writing and I see Etta Mae there with you, her spirit revealing new paths forward.
I think about her daily and feel such gratitude that I get to know her through each new piece you gift us. ❤️
ohhh, Matthew, so beautiful even with all the big feelings you wrote through and of. As someone who writes about grief, I always shrug when people say what I'm writing is beautiful or anything other than painful, but wow, this really is dazzling.
so glad you and your wife got a chance to participate in that grief ritual. it sounded like such a powerful time. The Wild Edge of Sorrow is a bible to me and I think it's so dope that you get to be putting some of the things he wrote about into practice
thank you for this. sending you all the love and whatever else you need in this moment<3
I appreciate you so much. Thank you for writing about grief. Words matter in times like these, and I think we're all better for it. Healing beside you, bit by bit.
I find myself without words, because unlike you, I cannot so vividly evoke the present moment shaped by the weight of the past - of the grief, the pain, the love. I'm still searching for the right words after reading your article. What I do know is this: there is a rawness and light in your writing that opens the heart to compassion, to connection. Thank you for showing us what true strength looks like.
A beautiful piece on a love that overflows. You write with a tender vulnerability, brother. We are all better for the weight you’ve had to endure (are enduring) in order to share this secret garden. I feel privileged to peer into your pain, from which pours wisdom and deep humanity. Thank you for gifting us this writing, you honor your daughter so well.
I remember when I went to group grief sessions a few years after my dad passed and noticing the different flavors of grief: children, parents, siblings, friends. Each aspect of place and timing affecting the flavor. Certain aspects of our grief were so different, yet it was Grief in its entirety that connected us and brought us to that space. It takes so much strength and will to intentionally reach out and touch Grief when it’s all-consuming and often all you can see and touch and hear and feel. When too many thoughts and feelings are screaming at you and you don’t even know where to begin. When it seems like everywhere is flood water and you can’t find a single dry, stable space to get a foothold. It physically changes us and there’s no going back to the way things were before because we were different people then, especially when it comes to being a parent. What an incredibly profound and awe-full place that garden is. And what an unbearably cruel price you were forced to pay in order to see it.
I love you and miss you. You and Courtney are often on my mind and always in my heart as you navigate and come to know your own Grief.
Beautifully said, Nix. I love you and miss you back. I have a piece about our conversation at chipotle all those years ago somewhere. Might dig that one up.
Beautiful. “The garden awaits”… what a powerful image. I yearn for those other mothers to one day feel the support of their partners the way you and Courtney so beautifully and gracefully show up wholly for each other
My heart swells to read this. Your everlasting love for Etta Mae, your willingness to fill with tears, your stepping into the garden full of life and death, your plea to not have this burden, this loss, be yours. I am still filled with the painful beauty of your presences, and always will be. Thank you so much for your open, broken hearts. Etta Mae's life will always be moving through the cosmos, and touches me every day.
This is beautiful and oh so painful.
I struggled to put In words the despair from our days of cancer with Joni. And this is that soul crushing world ending despair.. in words. 🖤
Thank you for the vulnerability and courage so find them. May you continue comfort wherever is comes. And know that this art is moving so so many of us.
With deep love and appreciation
Betsy. So good to see your name pop up. I hope you and your family are well. I'm sorry to hear you had to go through that with sweet Joni. What a nightmare. And I'm relieved to know that you're on the other side. I will certainly try to heed these words. One day at a time. Sending love and healing.
Beautiful. Love you so much ❤️
Matthew, my friend… thank you for your vulnerability, your tenderness, your grace. For your transparency, and your devotion to shaping new wings for yourself. I feel you taking flight through your writing and I see Etta Mae there with you, her spirit revealing new paths forward.
I think about her daily and feel such gratitude that I get to know her through each new piece you gift us. ❤️
❤️
ohhh, Matthew, so beautiful even with all the big feelings you wrote through and of. As someone who writes about grief, I always shrug when people say what I'm writing is beautiful or anything other than painful, but wow, this really is dazzling.
so glad you and your wife got a chance to participate in that grief ritual. it sounded like such a powerful time. The Wild Edge of Sorrow is a bible to me and I think it's so dope that you get to be putting some of the things he wrote about into practice
thank you for this. sending you all the love and whatever else you need in this moment<3
I appreciate you so much. Thank you for writing about grief. Words matter in times like these, and I think we're all better for it. Healing beside you, bit by bit.
the appreciation is sent right back to you, my friend!
I find myself without words, because unlike you, I cannot so vividly evoke the present moment shaped by the weight of the past - of the grief, the pain, the love. I'm still searching for the right words after reading your article. What I do know is this: there is a rawness and light in your writing that opens the heart to compassion, to connection. Thank you for showing us what true strength looks like.
That’s very thoughtful. Thank you, Erica. Very grateful for the space you’ve created for creativity to flow.
A beautiful piece on a love that overflows. You write with a tender vulnerability, brother. We are all better for the weight you’ve had to endure (are enduring) in order to share this secret garden. I feel privileged to peer into your pain, from which pours wisdom and deep humanity. Thank you for gifting us this writing, you honor your daughter so well.
Thank you, brother. That means a lot. I appreciate you reading and engaging.
Honored.
I remember when I went to group grief sessions a few years after my dad passed and noticing the different flavors of grief: children, parents, siblings, friends. Each aspect of place and timing affecting the flavor. Certain aspects of our grief were so different, yet it was Grief in its entirety that connected us and brought us to that space. It takes so much strength and will to intentionally reach out and touch Grief when it’s all-consuming and often all you can see and touch and hear and feel. When too many thoughts and feelings are screaming at you and you don’t even know where to begin. When it seems like everywhere is flood water and you can’t find a single dry, stable space to get a foothold. It physically changes us and there’s no going back to the way things were before because we were different people then, especially when it comes to being a parent. What an incredibly profound and awe-full place that garden is. And what an unbearably cruel price you were forced to pay in order to see it.
I love you and miss you. You and Courtney are often on my mind and always in my heart as you navigate and come to know your own Grief.
Beautifully said, Nix. I love you and miss you back. I have a piece about our conversation at chipotle all those years ago somewhere. Might dig that one up.
That conversation has become a core memory for me.
Beautiful. “The garden awaits”… what a powerful image. I yearn for those other mothers to one day feel the support of their partners the way you and Courtney so beautifully and gracefully show up wholly for each other
My heart swells to read this. Your everlasting love for Etta Mae, your willingness to fill with tears, your stepping into the garden full of life and death, your plea to not have this burden, this loss, be yours. I am still filled with the painful beauty of your presences, and always will be. Thank you so much for your open, broken hearts. Etta Mae's life will always be moving through the cosmos, and touches me every day.