My daughter’s boyfriend took his own life a few years back, leaving her a hollowed out version of her former self. His mother said to me that her feelings were “indescribable”. He had been severely depressed for some time, and he was dealing with some painful knock backs in his life, but no one saw suicide coming. I remember my daughter telling me that he had used the belt of his dressing gown, and she was tormented by this because he had always played with it as a comforting thing when he was feeling stressed. No wonder you felt so many agonising feelings about the tree. Sending you love ❤️ ❤️🩹
Oh Sarah! We don't see it coming. I hated that poor tree for the longest time. We found out a few years later another child used that tree to escape her pain. Sending love Sarah.
This is raw and deeply familiar. I lost my partner to suicide, and I understand the desperate need to suffer, the fixation on places that feel like echoes of them. Your story captures the strange, messy path of grief. Thank you for sharing!
Your words bring tears to my eyes. I send you light and love. From one mother to another, I hear you. I see you. I feel your anguish and your love. Please continue to share your truth. You will help more people than you can imagine.
I felt your anguish and ache in every word. There must have been something so painful about the constant witnessing of the ambivalent abundance of that tree that seized your child's breath. Yet such a paradox. Trees are a symbol of strength and persistence -- that we must muster every day. I remember your poignant comment on my "Elliot tree" post. Wrapping you in love and comfort.
I see you then. Raw, messy, broken. Angry. Words cannot describe the lingering ache. Rea, you have grown and become endearing and strong through grief. I love your writing. 💞
How far you have come Rea, but I know that some memories sit in our heads, and it is only by our making a huge investment in ourselves and the better future we deserve that we manage to stop letting them dominate our thinking. Your younger son said a wonderful thing; some words come along like keys to open our prison doors.
Rea, this is so powerful. I'm so sorry. I'm watching the trees of the local forest opposite my house dance in the wind and thinking of the people who also choose their launching pad to heaven in that place. Your young son said such a beautiful and poetic thing. It will stay with me, as will your words. Sending love. x
Grief unimaginable! I know you realize now that it wasn't about the tree. It was simply a place to aim your sorrow. Sending you love, and praying you can make peace with this memory, now that you've written it down. Love, Virg
It's pretty cool how the kids played a song for your son like that. Kindness does help everything. I'm sorry for your loss and I know this one wasn't easy to post. Thank you for sharing, Rea.
Oh my God, Rea. I am so sorry for all the losses. Your pain is understandably so raw and palpable. All the behaviors you describe sound completely normal to me, given your unbearable loss.
I am deeply sorry for your loss, Rea! But I commend you for channeling all this pain through this piece. Your words resonate on a deep level, reaching even those who can't even imagine dealing with these circumstances!
I am glad to have discovered this text, and I am sure it's a piece that has impacted many people and will continue to do so! Namaste, Rea!
Such a painful experience, I can only imagine how this must felt for you. To even survive it and put yourself back on your feet it is incredible. It probably never leaves you, you just hopefully transform it and focus on things that feed your soul. Sharing it so vulnerably, it reminds me of different aspects of life that comes with huge spectrum. It also gives me courage to use my pain as a fuel. Thank you for being so open, my heart is with you 💚
Rea, I read this holding my breath and with tears in my eyes. There is so much pain, rawness, and courage in speaking this out loud. Your words carry a weight that can’t be lightened, only embraced with humanity. Thank you for sharing this — it reminds me that even in the darkest places, a glimpse of light can still appear, in kindness, in a touch, or in the presence of others. I’m holding you in this heavy memory.🤍🙏🏼🫂
My daughter’s boyfriend took his own life a few years back, leaving her a hollowed out version of her former self. His mother said to me that her feelings were “indescribable”. He had been severely depressed for some time, and he was dealing with some painful knock backs in his life, but no one saw suicide coming. I remember my daughter telling me that he had used the belt of his dressing gown, and she was tormented by this because he had always played with it as a comforting thing when he was feeling stressed. No wonder you felt so many agonising feelings about the tree. Sending you love ❤️ ❤️🩹
Oh Sarah! We don't see it coming. I hated that poor tree for the longest time. We found out a few years later another child used that tree to escape her pain. Sending love Sarah.
This is raw and deeply familiar. I lost my partner to suicide, and I understand the desperate need to suffer, the fixation on places that feel like echoes of them. Your story captures the strange, messy path of grief. Thank you for sharing!
Thank you for reading and commenting Nicole. It sure is messy. I am sorry you lost your partner this way. Hugs
Big hugs back at you!
Your words bring tears to my eyes. I send you light and love. From one mother to another, I hear you. I see you. I feel your anguish and your love. Please continue to share your truth. You will help more people than you can imagine.
I felt your anguish and ache in every word. There must have been something so painful about the constant witnessing of the ambivalent abundance of that tree that seized your child's breath. Yet such a paradox. Trees are a symbol of strength and persistence -- that we must muster every day. I remember your poignant comment on my "Elliot tree" post. Wrapping you in love and comfort.
Thank you, Elaine. Grief drives us insane. Sending you peace and love. I know you understand. <3 <3
Such a beautiful, yet heartbreaking post. I cannot even begin to imagine the pain you must have felt, are still feeling.
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Thank goodness that agony has softened into acceptance, Phillip. Thank you for your kind comment. <3
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I see you then. Raw, messy, broken. Angry. Words cannot describe the lingering ache. Rea, you have grown and become endearing and strong through grief. I love your writing. 💞
Thank you for your kind words, Brenda. Hell has a way to temper our souls. <3 <3
How far you have come Rea, but I know that some memories sit in our heads, and it is only by our making a huge investment in ourselves and the better future we deserve that we manage to stop letting them dominate our thinking. Your younger son said a wonderful thing; some words come along like keys to open our prison doors.
Like keys to open our prison doors. That sums it up beautifully, Esther. Thank you my friend. <3
Rea, this is so powerful. I'm so sorry. I'm watching the trees of the local forest opposite my house dance in the wind and thinking of the people who also choose their launching pad to heaven in that place. Your young son said such a beautiful and poetic thing. It will stay with me, as will your words. Sending love. x
Thank you for your beautiful words. Sending love.
I am sorry to hear this, Rea. So sorry. I am glad that you are at peace now. Love.
Thank you Nazish! Love back at you.
Grief unimaginable! I know you realize now that it wasn't about the tree. It was simply a place to aim your sorrow. Sending you love, and praying you can make peace with this memory, now that you've written it down. Love, Virg
That was exactly the reason, Virg. Thank you. ❤️
It's pretty cool how the kids played a song for your son like that. Kindness does help everything. I'm sorry for your loss and I know this one wasn't easy to post. Thank you for sharing, Rea.
Thank you for your compassion, Parker. It was hell, but I survived it. <3
What an incredibly strong woman you are to have gone through all that pain. Your courage in writing this moves, my heart.
I didn’t feel strong at the time, Kathleen. I was a crazy mess. Thank you for your empathy and your kind thoughts. <3
Oh my God, Rea. I am so sorry for all the losses. Your pain is understandably so raw and palpable. All the behaviors you describe sound completely normal to me, given your unbearable loss.
Sending hugs.
Thank you, Beth. I found peace, after that hell. <3 <3
I am deeply sorry for your loss, Rea! But I commend you for channeling all this pain through this piece. Your words resonate on a deep level, reaching even those who can't even imagine dealing with these circumstances!
I am glad to have discovered this text, and I am sure it's a piece that has impacted many people and will continue to do so! Namaste, Rea!
Thank you for reaching out, Rasmus. I hope it does. Grief can drive a person crazy.
Such a painful experience, I can only imagine how this must felt for you. To even survive it and put yourself back on your feet it is incredible. It probably never leaves you, you just hopefully transform it and focus on things that feed your soul. Sharing it so vulnerably, it reminds me of different aspects of life that comes with huge spectrum. It also gives me courage to use my pain as a fuel. Thank you for being so open, my heart is with you 💚
Thank you for your compassion, Octarine. My heart is with you. <3 <3
Rea, I read this holding my breath and with tears in my eyes. There is so much pain, rawness, and courage in speaking this out loud. Your words carry a weight that can’t be lightened, only embraced with humanity. Thank you for sharing this — it reminds me that even in the darkest places, a glimpse of light can still appear, in kindness, in a touch, or in the presence of others. I’m holding you in this heavy memory.🤍🙏🏼🫂
It always amazes me how kind strangers can be, Thank you, Dora! <3