Congratulations Susan on this beautiful family legacy, and gift to children.
Like many here I’ve had many losses. As a child we left our home country, and our family dog with a friend. I was 10 and had no idea of the pain to come, and there wasn’t conversation about that.
Children generally need stories, words, expression of loss - a topic often too difficult for many of us to know how to approach it. I worked with children in my career and am so grateful to see many more resources like this. ❤️
It is such a strange thought that sorrow and grief are not a part of being whole ...
I have grief and sorrow ... I am not my grief and sorrow.
It's essential to have and live grief and sorrow, to grow in an awareness of all life encompasses.
Beautiful Susan, there can't be enough children books (for grown ups to read too :)).
Children crave to understand life so they can relate to the happenings and build a kinship with all that's living inside themselves and the living beings and books like yours can help them understand.
I love the illustration, what a love and tenderness!! Amazing.
This is a timely post as I sit beside my Dad, likely on the Eve of his death. I welcome your readers to make comments on poetry or writings that have offered them solace and captured the whole experience of walking alongside someone in his dying process. I am a Therapist and have walked many people through their grief. In fact, my next post on my Substack will likely be about how to support a partner in their grief. I'm not looking for advice so much as beautiful words. And, I'm loving this community of tender hearts and bright minds. Thank you, Susan, and others.
I'm so sorry, Ann, about your Dad. I've been there (my Dad passed away of COVID, in 2021; I actually wrote about that in BITTERSWEET, in case that helps). I hope people will leave their thoughts for you right here but I'm also going to do a group chat on this next week, or maybe over the weekend, in your honor, and we'll see what people share. Love to you, in your grief.
This is not a post about a first goodbye. That was the small tabby I adopted when I was ten. This is about the past 12 months. I said goodbye to my 97 year old mother after a long dementia journey. I said goodbye to my 27 yeard old daughter, who was with us at home since the pandemic then moved away to a new city. I said goodbye to my largest client who helped me launch my own business 23 years ago. I am saying goodbye to my professional life, as I move towards my next chapter in life without a full time business. I worried about how I would feel with all this loss happening in such a short span of two months. Then I consider this. My mother had a long life and needed to complete her journey called Life. My daughter opened her wings and took a risk and is so happy in a big new world. My client and I shared a loyalty most people in my business said was not possible. I did cry. I did feel sorry for myself. I did feel lost. I did feel like I had lost a limb. I did sit and stare. Alot. But now, as I reflect and think about this post, I am truly grateful for everyone of these goodbyes. Maybe we do get better at it. It is indeed bittersweet.
As I read this post I am sitting in the family room of a hospice center, waiting for when my Aunt has been bathed and I am able to see her. Saying goodbye is hard and I have had to do it often in my life. I sit and hold her hand; if she is lucid I share memories and photographs. I visit so that she is not alone on this final journey. I know she will find peace on the other side. Thank you, Susan, for your post. It is a comfort.
I’ve experienced many sad and ordinary goodbyes, but the one that stands out after reading your questions is the farewell to my first home. At the age of nine, I went to boarding school, and when I returned after the first term, I discovered that my parents had moved to a new house without informing me. I now realize that I was displaced twice at once.
Attending boarding school transforms you—if you manage to survive that first term, you become independent, learning to navigate life without your parents in a new community that has its own rules. When I returned home after that first term, I found that I couldn't reconnect with the place I had once known. This left me longing, feeling sad, and as if my emotions and wishes were irrelevant.
I had completely forgotten this experience or had never found the words to express my feelings until your post brought it all back. The new house was more beautiful, but it never felt like “home.”
Today, I am working on forgiving my parents and healing in various ways. Thank you for sharing, Susan. I can’t wait to read your book and share it with others.
Wow, Arike, thank you for sharing that. I grew up reading boarding school novels and was always fascinated by them - of course, those stories never talked about feelings of homesickness and displacement. I wonder if you'd consider writing your story down.
In my young years I was either numb to goodbyes, angry feeling abandoned or felt a touch of the loss and didn’t know what to do with it so skimmed over it. No one ever talked about loss, the normalcy of it and the many different ways we can experience it. And that it’s OK. Sadness is a healthy expression of life.
My first goodbye was leaving my friends, a part of family , home, city , school and the idea of family when I was six years old - and not being able to accept that goodbye has defined my life. I still struggle with goodbyes whether to a person , a thing or a relationship. Maybe we can have our next candle light around this. I wonder how others have learnt the art of accepting goodbyes
Congratulations Susan on this beautiful family legacy, and gift to children.
Like many here I’ve had many losses. As a child we left our home country, and our family dog with a friend. I was 10 and had no idea of the pain to come, and there wasn’t conversation about that.
Children generally need stories, words, expression of loss - a topic often too difficult for many of us to know how to approach it. I worked with children in my career and am so grateful to see many more resources like this. ❤️
It is such a strange thought that sorrow and grief are not a part of being whole ...
I have grief and sorrow ... I am not my grief and sorrow.
It's essential to have and live grief and sorrow, to grow in an awareness of all life encompasses.
Beautiful Susan, there can't be enough children books (for grown ups to read too :)).
Children crave to understand life so they can relate to the happenings and build a kinship with all that's living inside themselves and the living beings and books like yours can help them understand.
I love the illustration, what a love and tenderness!! Amazing.
This is a timely post as I sit beside my Dad, likely on the Eve of his death. I welcome your readers to make comments on poetry or writings that have offered them solace and captured the whole experience of walking alongside someone in his dying process. I am a Therapist and have walked many people through their grief. In fact, my next post on my Substack will likely be about how to support a partner in their grief. I'm not looking for advice so much as beautiful words. And, I'm loving this community of tender hearts and bright minds. Thank you, Susan, and others.
I'm so sorry, Ann, about your Dad. I've been there (my Dad passed away of COVID, in 2021; I actually wrote about that in BITTERSWEET, in case that helps). I hope people will leave their thoughts for you right here but I'm also going to do a group chat on this next week, or maybe over the weekend, in your honor, and we'll see what people share. Love to you, in your grief.
Ann,
David Whyte gave me solace when my Dad died.
His poem The Journey
Above the mountains
the geese turn into
the light again
Painting their
black silhouettes
to an open sky.
Sometimes everything has to be
inscribed
across the heavens
so you can find
the one line
already written
inside you.
Sometimes it takes
a great sky
to find that
first, bright
and indescribable
wedge of freedom
in your own heart.
Sometimes with
the bones of the black
sticks left when the fire
has gone out
someone has written
something new
in the ashes of your life.
You are not leaving.
Even as the light fades quickly now.
you are arriving.
Thank you. It's beautiful.
This is not a post about a first goodbye. That was the small tabby I adopted when I was ten. This is about the past 12 months. I said goodbye to my 97 year old mother after a long dementia journey. I said goodbye to my 27 yeard old daughter, who was with us at home since the pandemic then moved away to a new city. I said goodbye to my largest client who helped me launch my own business 23 years ago. I am saying goodbye to my professional life, as I move towards my next chapter in life without a full time business. I worried about how I would feel with all this loss happening in such a short span of two months. Then I consider this. My mother had a long life and needed to complete her journey called Life. My daughter opened her wings and took a risk and is so happy in a big new world. My client and I shared a loyalty most people in my business said was not possible. I did cry. I did feel sorry for myself. I did feel lost. I did feel like I had lost a limb. I did sit and stare. Alot. But now, as I reflect and think about this post, I am truly grateful for everyone of these goodbyes. Maybe we do get better at it. It is indeed bittersweet.
You sound very wise, Judy.
As I read this post I am sitting in the family room of a hospice center, waiting for when my Aunt has been bathed and I am able to see her. Saying goodbye is hard and I have had to do it often in my life. I sit and hold her hand; if she is lucid I share memories and photographs. I visit so that she is not alone on this final journey. I know she will find peace on the other side. Thank you, Susan, for your post. It is a comfort.
You're so welcome, Grace - and I'm wishing all good things to you and your Aunt.
I’ve experienced many sad and ordinary goodbyes, but the one that stands out after reading your questions is the farewell to my first home. At the age of nine, I went to boarding school, and when I returned after the first term, I discovered that my parents had moved to a new house without informing me. I now realize that I was displaced twice at once.
Attending boarding school transforms you—if you manage to survive that first term, you become independent, learning to navigate life without your parents in a new community that has its own rules. When I returned home after that first term, I found that I couldn't reconnect with the place I had once known. This left me longing, feeling sad, and as if my emotions and wishes were irrelevant.
I had completely forgotten this experience or had never found the words to express my feelings until your post brought it all back. The new house was more beautiful, but it never felt like “home.”
Today, I am working on forgiving my parents and healing in various ways. Thank you for sharing, Susan. I can’t wait to read your book and share it with others.
Wow, Arike, thank you for sharing that. I grew up reading boarding school novels and was always fascinated by them - of course, those stories never talked about feelings of homesickness and displacement. I wonder if you'd consider writing your story down.
Susan, as a retired elementary school teacher/librarian, I am very excited to get a copy of this (I love picture books) 📚🫏🫏 💙
Thank you, Karen!
In my young years I was either numb to goodbyes, angry feeling abandoned or felt a touch of the loss and didn’t know what to do with it so skimmed over it. No one ever talked about loss, the normalcy of it and the many different ways we can experience it. And that it’s OK. Sadness is a healthy expression of life.
My first goodbye was leaving my friends, a part of family , home, city , school and the idea of family when I was six years old - and not being able to accept that goodbye has defined my life. I still struggle with goodbyes whether to a person , a thing or a relationship. Maybe we can have our next candle light around this. I wonder how others have learnt the art of accepting goodbyes
That's a good idea to talk about this for a future Candlelight, Sanya - I'll make a note of it.
Lovely post!
Thanks, Pam!
Nice