Tag: dying

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Footprints 👣 Upon Our Hearts

Mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, cousins, aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, grandmothers, grandfathers, friends…each person who died was someone special in someone else’s life.

Each walked their footprints upon our hearts.

When winter melts into spring, and tears continue to stream,

You’ll not be forgotten or overlooked

Because in your footprints flowers will bloom.

We will not forget your love,

Our memories will never abandon you.

Because we know when we are walking on,

We are not walking on alone.

Your footprints continue to impact our hearts,

Melting the cold, cold snow.

Because of you we must continue on,

Because we know we’re not continuing on alone.

One day, the hatred and greed will subside.

One day peace will start to bloom.

We know you’re always here with us,

And one day your footprints will guide us home.

Dedicated to all on and affected by Flight PS752 ❤️💔❤️

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Sense of wonder…

Recognizing and being aware of your perspective on life can have miraculous consequences.

How would you live your life differently if you chose to see what you look at and/or the people you interact with as if it was the first time or the last time you’re seeing them?

And if you would behave differently, why aren’t you behaving differently right now?

I can’t tell you how many clients I have spoken with who have told me if they knew it was the last time they were going to see a loved one, that they would have let them know how much they loved them and how much they meant to them.

So why wait? Tell them right now. Go. Do it. Right this minute. I promise you won’t regret it.

Perks of Being a Counselor:

Always knowing that each session with a client may be the last one and so making sure that each one of my clients walks away with me having given them the best I have to give as their therapist. And then using the same process with all my loved ones.

Do I always succeed? No. But that doesn’t mean I stop trying.

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On Grief…

Grief is heavy. It’s like carrying around a weighted blanket with you for the rest of your life, except it’s not comforting to be weighed down. Everything becomes more laborious. Your movements slow down. Your thinking slows down. It’s like you’re carrying around with you the entire world and all the pain and suffering that has ever existed from the beginning of time, all. the. time.

You see people around you moving about their lives and it feels like you’re in a slow motion movie while everyone else’s life has been sped up. Every now and then, someone steps out of their fast-paced dimensions just long enough for you to be able to see their faces and for them to see yours, but no one can stay in your slow world with you, no one is allowed. It’s the kind of restricted access no one would ever wish for, but here you are, and here you will be forever.

You learn to start walking with this heaviness weighing you down. Some days it feels like you’re walking in tar and can barely take a step forward. Other times, it feels more like you’re moving in water, still hard but much more preferable to the dark tar. You learn to appreciate walking the earth with your heavy blanket as long as you can still move and feel the earth beneath your feet. Slowly, you forget you’re being weighed down and learn that this is your new gravity, your new posture.

You start to feel gratitude for this blanket because it’s a reminder of your love for the person, for YOUR person, who has died. Eventually, the blanket becomes your protection from the speedy lives everyone else is living. You realize that while you’ve slowed down, become immobilized at times, you’ve also been able to see the moments within the moments that everyone else is missing.

At some point, you’re able to recognize the faces of others who are also moving slowly through time. You find them and they find you, and without any words, you KNOW and recognize each other. You know what is happening, you see each other’s weighted blankets and you recognize the beautiful designs on them. You begin to see that the blanket is no longer painful to carry because while you’re still weighed down, you have built some very strong heart muscles to carry all the grief and love. And so you continue to walk.

That is all. You continue to walk. That is all, that is EVERYTHING.

Perks of being a counselor: inter-dimensional access and journeying with those who have built the strongest of hearts. I see you.

💓🙏🏽💓