Tyler,,,, I assure you, you said All the right things…and your timing was perfect. For a man to speak on grief and pen his most inner thoughts and insecurities is Epic to begin with. I’ll share my experience…I lost my son, he just turned 31, struggling with addiction. I needed a safe, loving support group. I never doubted those closest to me would not be able to witness my pain and grief. After all, he was loved his entire life, so when my brothers and closest friends disappeared,,,it hit hard. I would awake in deep grief, look at my phone in disbelief…nothing. I held that pain, and never confronted anyone. It added more pain than I ever imagined. It created anxiety, confusion and anger. I found a support group and shared my feelings there. I found out, I wasn’t alone in “ghosting”, the grieving mother. It’s so common in American culture…sadly so. I think you nailed the most important tool… Say them anyway… oh how I wish they could have known this. Love & light Tyler…thank you
Oh my goodness, I am so so so sorry. You are so right, it's too common here, it's always too common. I'll always say the words, I promise you that. Love right back to you.
Yes Gayle, grief indeed changes us… it’s scary at 1st, the unknown…who will I become now? Many years later, grief softens and we learn to carry & honor this deep love ❤️. Stay warm and safe xoxo
Well this essay certainly ‘struck a chord’ with me. I have forever been struck with a ‘loss for words’ spoken, yet been a virtual ‘firehose’ when it came to written comments (but you already knew this haha). So, my public demeanor seemed to evolve to one of a quiet and stoic figure while as for my writings… one of my first bosses once replied to an email I sent with the following: “Kevin, your information and conclusions all have merit, but let me remind you that novels should be found in bookstores, not emails. Tighten it up please!” Yep, yep, yep.. Over the course of a career in business, training and practice in public speaking did help me to condense my thoughts, focus on message, and learn the importance of cadence. But nothing has been more influential in my practice for both brevity and messaging (in both speaking and writing) than the practice of writing poetry. Poetry is mystical and lyrical experience in "speaking the most while talking the least," allowing complex experiences to be distilled into a few, powerful lines.
Your written comments are a thing of legend here, so I struggle to imagine you EVER at a loss for words. You are our font of wisdom. I too struggle with tightening up, and I think I always will. Thank you for the poetry you share with us, always.
Oh, Tyler, another serendipitously timed Signal Fire. There has been grief, sadness and loss in this neck of the woods for the last few months. I leaned in, when I saw what was coming, I spoke the hard truths born of a deep knowing to prepare those that refused to or couldn’t understand the path that lay ahead. I’ve done the showing up you speak of (as best as I could) because ultimately that presence matters so much.
There seems to be a fragility of sorts that those experiencing loss are treated with. In this recent experience, it seemed many were uncertain what was needed, and didn’t want to intrude or overwhelm. I get it, we all process, feel and experience this world differently. And the truth is (at least from my perspective), yes, solitude is needed at times on the grief journey, but when your world changes overnight and a presence that was with you day in and day out is suddenly gone in the blink of an eye. That quiet, the eerie silence, the being in a once shared space surrounded by the reminder of your loss at every turn and you’re alone, that is something I would never, ever wish upon anyone.
All that to say, show up, have the real, true, raw conversations. Ask, offer specific things you're able/willing to help with (if that fits the situation)….sometimes a choice is empowering and sometimes it’s overwhelming. The authenticity is felt when the actions or words are genuinely born of care and compassion, it matters far less if they aren’t the “right” thing. It seems we’ve tempered interaction with correctness/politeness at the expense of honesty and authenticity. This is not to say that a balance of both cannot be met, just that interactions often swing heavily to one end or the other of that scale.
We have no guidebook for these moments, life is a messy thing full of countless twists and turns. But leaning in, facing and feeling the messiness is all we can do in any given moment.
Much appreciation as always, Tyler, for the words shared and creating this community for us to share.
It means so much when the things I write hit home, when they resonate at the right time. Goodness, I am sorry for the heaviness of your recent months. Your advice here is magical, and vital. Thank you, as always, for sharing it, and for sharing You, and for showing up here so often. It means the entire world. Gosh I just want this place to grow.
I love this sentiment. Being one of the first of my generation to suffer a significant loss, I saw the trepidation and fear many of my friends and loved ones had. They didn't know what to say, and treated me with kid gloves. The ones that broke through that invisible barrier, that held me or saw me or loved me just as I was in that moment, that didn't shy away from the pain I didn't know what to do with yet, they were the ones that made it feel a little more ok. It's a deep learning that I think we lose in these days of interconnected disconnection - how to be a part of our community when it's not polished and messy. You put it beautifully though. Just show up. Just be there, and hold space when all else feels lost or empty.
Kid gloves is the perfect way of saying this! Thank you for sharing this with us, for opening up the wounds and letting us know how they feel, how they respond to care. It helps us, all of us, and it means the world. You're a magical soul, and I hope you know how much Sarah and I value you.
I’ve commented about this before so parts may be familiar to some. Just a few weeks shy of 4 years ago my friend died. He was my boss’s brother and quickly became my friend. When he came up from Florida, he would always come work at the pizza shop. He was the best type of person-not a mean bone in his body-and we became friends. I was only working there on Fridays at the time. On Tuesday, I was walking out the door to go back to my other job after my lunch break when I got a text from someone who used to work at the pizza place. She asked if I had talked to anyone from there that day and I said no thinking she had some juicy gossip. Her next text just said Mike died. To anyone reading this, please I beg of you don’t ever do that to anyone. If there is a wrong thing to do that is it. It’s not information that anyone should have to receive that way. A few minutes later I was back at work. I informed my coworkers what happened and of course got the obvious “sorries” then went and spent the next 6 hours alone with a bunch of dogs. Boss’s son called a few hours later to tell me what happened but I couldn’t answer while working. I texted back how sorry I was and didn’t talk to any of them for a few days until I saw them at work. It was such a shock that I just really didn’t know what to say. It was sudden and we never found out what happened. Speculation is he fell but we will never know. I was caught up in my own grief for losing a friend and how sad I was for this whole family I cared about who lost someone they loved. Fridays at a pizza shop are busy. I hesitated to say anything because I didn’t know what to say and didn’t want to make anyone sad when we all had a job to do. Towards the end of the night boss’s sister came in and they started talking about him. I finally said “I hope you know how sorry I am I just don’t know what to say and didn’t want to upset anyone.” Someone else said something along the lines of don’t be afraid to say something. They are going to be sad about it no matter what you say. That stuck with me. It truly is better to say something rather than nothing. In grief it’s nice to know that other people care. His memorial service was a few weeks later. A lot of people left early. I stayed the whole time and then a few people went to boss’s house after. I went and we spent a couple hours talking about him. I know it meant so much to them that I came and sat and talked. Just being there and talking truly means so much.
Ahh, I hope anything I say comes across as anything remotely resembling smart. Phew. "They are going to be sad about it no matter what you say," is such an amazing insight and so valuable to hear. It takes the pressure away, it just makes presence so much more valuable. Thank you for sharing this with us, truly.
Recently, the 54-yr old father of a friend of my son died after an illness. Ben had been friends with his youngest daughter since kindergarten, and they occasionally still ran into each other socially. I knew the whole family through school and church and was planning to go to the funeral home. Ben said he would send her a really nice text message. I told him no, he needed to go to the funeral home and see Emma. What would he want if his father had died? As we stood in the long line, he nervously asked me what he should say. I said I don’t know; just give her a hug. We ended up babbling various things to her sisters and mother, but in the end, that hug and just showing up meant more than any words.
I have had my share of grief. My mother and father and one of my brothers. Each with their own nuance.
... but the hardest to experience [being an empath, I 'feel' others deeply] with grief was my father's grief after I was released from a psychiatric hospital. I was still feeling suicidal. He grieved just the thought of me being gone. He thought that if he loved me enough, he could wash it away. My stepmother asked him not to contact me by phone until I reached out, because at that time, words were a slippery slope. It was a smart thing for her to do, and it was the hardest thing he ever did.
I try to just be there for people, letting them know that I will listen and hold them whenever they need it ... checking in months after a loss when others had disappeared into 'normal'. I'd bake them a traditional Jewish pound cake [rich with eggs] that someone might bring to a Shiva [a 7-day period of mourning where people are free to visit and usually bring food so that the mourning do not have to cook or entertain] with the intention of helping them rebuild strength. I never know what to say exactly, but I AM there, and I hope that makes a difference.
This one was incredible. Wow. This quote especially is going to sit with me..."More than all things, it is the fear of saying the ‘wrong thing’ that makes us absent in all the moments where our presence matters most."
I've long felt like I'm filled with too many thoughts and too many words and often they spill out of me in messy and imperfect ways. I seem to always be the one saying things, and have often felt silly in the aftermath. Sometimes words don't come out the way I want or a moment doesn't evolve how I pictured. And there have been times when I've held back too, for fear of saying something wrong or silly or stupid. But this is a great reminder that it doesn't matter. I shouldn't ever feel bad about saying the things I feel. Sharing my thoughts, even if they aren't fully formed. I love showing up for those I love in any possible way I can. And I have always been known for my words. Thank you for the reminder that they are a gift, no matter what.
Taylor thank you so much, seriously. Always say the things, "perfect" is a trap, and doesn't even exist anyway. You're magic, I am so sure anything you offer is too.
Tyler,,,, I assure you, you said All the right things…and your timing was perfect. For a man to speak on grief and pen his most inner thoughts and insecurities is Epic to begin with. I’ll share my experience…I lost my son, he just turned 31, struggling with addiction. I needed a safe, loving support group. I never doubted those closest to me would not be able to witness my pain and grief. After all, he was loved his entire life, so when my brothers and closest friends disappeared,,,it hit hard. I would awake in deep grief, look at my phone in disbelief…nothing. I held that pain, and never confronted anyone. It added more pain than I ever imagined. It created anxiety, confusion and anger. I found a support group and shared my feelings there. I found out, I wasn’t alone in “ghosting”, the grieving mother. It’s so common in American culture…sadly so. I think you nailed the most important tool… Say them anyway… oh how I wish they could have known this. Love & light Tyler…thank you
I’m so sorry. I wish I could give you a hug.
Hugs u right back! Ty from the blizzard in NY!
Oh my goodness, I am so so so sorry. You are so right, it's too common here, it's always too common. I'll always say the words, I promise you that. Love right back to you.
Always here. Listening. Witnessing. I am so sorry for your loss.
... and hello from across the river in NJ, having just shoveled us out.
Yes Gayle, grief indeed changes us… it’s scary at 1st, the unknown…who will I become now? Many years later, grief softens and we learn to carry & honor this deep love ❤️. Stay warm and safe xoxo
Well this essay certainly ‘struck a chord’ with me. I have forever been struck with a ‘loss for words’ spoken, yet been a virtual ‘firehose’ when it came to written comments (but you already knew this haha). So, my public demeanor seemed to evolve to one of a quiet and stoic figure while as for my writings… one of my first bosses once replied to an email I sent with the following: “Kevin, your information and conclusions all have merit, but let me remind you that novels should be found in bookstores, not emails. Tighten it up please!” Yep, yep, yep.. Over the course of a career in business, training and practice in public speaking did help me to condense my thoughts, focus on message, and learn the importance of cadence. But nothing has been more influential in my practice for both brevity and messaging (in both speaking and writing) than the practice of writing poetry. Poetry is mystical and lyrical experience in "speaking the most while talking the least," allowing complex experiences to be distilled into a few, powerful lines.
To get to the point -
(S)pared the weighted drone of prose;
the magic of verse.
Your written comments are a thing of legend here, so I struggle to imagine you EVER at a loss for words. You are our font of wisdom. I too struggle with tightening up, and I think I always will. Thank you for the poetry you share with us, always.
Oh, Tyler, another serendipitously timed Signal Fire. There has been grief, sadness and loss in this neck of the woods for the last few months. I leaned in, when I saw what was coming, I spoke the hard truths born of a deep knowing to prepare those that refused to or couldn’t understand the path that lay ahead. I’ve done the showing up you speak of (as best as I could) because ultimately that presence matters so much.
There seems to be a fragility of sorts that those experiencing loss are treated with. In this recent experience, it seemed many were uncertain what was needed, and didn’t want to intrude or overwhelm. I get it, we all process, feel and experience this world differently. And the truth is (at least from my perspective), yes, solitude is needed at times on the grief journey, but when your world changes overnight and a presence that was with you day in and day out is suddenly gone in the blink of an eye. That quiet, the eerie silence, the being in a once shared space surrounded by the reminder of your loss at every turn and you’re alone, that is something I would never, ever wish upon anyone.
All that to say, show up, have the real, true, raw conversations. Ask, offer specific things you're able/willing to help with (if that fits the situation)….sometimes a choice is empowering and sometimes it’s overwhelming. The authenticity is felt when the actions or words are genuinely born of care and compassion, it matters far less if they aren’t the “right” thing. It seems we’ve tempered interaction with correctness/politeness at the expense of honesty and authenticity. This is not to say that a balance of both cannot be met, just that interactions often swing heavily to one end or the other of that scale.
We have no guidebook for these moments, life is a messy thing full of countless twists and turns. But leaning in, facing and feeling the messiness is all we can do in any given moment.
Much appreciation as always, Tyler, for the words shared and creating this community for us to share.
It means so much when the things I write hit home, when they resonate at the right time. Goodness, I am sorry for the heaviness of your recent months. Your advice here is magical, and vital. Thank you, as always, for sharing it, and for sharing You, and for showing up here so often. It means the entire world. Gosh I just want this place to grow.
I love this sentiment. Being one of the first of my generation to suffer a significant loss, I saw the trepidation and fear many of my friends and loved ones had. They didn't know what to say, and treated me with kid gloves. The ones that broke through that invisible barrier, that held me or saw me or loved me just as I was in that moment, that didn't shy away from the pain I didn't know what to do with yet, they were the ones that made it feel a little more ok. It's a deep learning that I think we lose in these days of interconnected disconnection - how to be a part of our community when it's not polished and messy. You put it beautifully though. Just show up. Just be there, and hold space when all else feels lost or empty.
Kid gloves is the perfect way of saying this! Thank you for sharing this with us, for opening up the wounds and letting us know how they feel, how they respond to care. It helps us, all of us, and it means the world. You're a magical soul, and I hope you know how much Sarah and I value you.
"Love is 99% being there."
Forever & ever.
Thank you 🤍
Always always always.
You’re a smart one 🫂
I’ve commented about this before so parts may be familiar to some. Just a few weeks shy of 4 years ago my friend died. He was my boss’s brother and quickly became my friend. When he came up from Florida, he would always come work at the pizza shop. He was the best type of person-not a mean bone in his body-and we became friends. I was only working there on Fridays at the time. On Tuesday, I was walking out the door to go back to my other job after my lunch break when I got a text from someone who used to work at the pizza place. She asked if I had talked to anyone from there that day and I said no thinking she had some juicy gossip. Her next text just said Mike died. To anyone reading this, please I beg of you don’t ever do that to anyone. If there is a wrong thing to do that is it. It’s not information that anyone should have to receive that way. A few minutes later I was back at work. I informed my coworkers what happened and of course got the obvious “sorries” then went and spent the next 6 hours alone with a bunch of dogs. Boss’s son called a few hours later to tell me what happened but I couldn’t answer while working. I texted back how sorry I was and didn’t talk to any of them for a few days until I saw them at work. It was such a shock that I just really didn’t know what to say. It was sudden and we never found out what happened. Speculation is he fell but we will never know. I was caught up in my own grief for losing a friend and how sad I was for this whole family I cared about who lost someone they loved. Fridays at a pizza shop are busy. I hesitated to say anything because I didn’t know what to say and didn’t want to make anyone sad when we all had a job to do. Towards the end of the night boss’s sister came in and they started talking about him. I finally said “I hope you know how sorry I am I just don’t know what to say and didn’t want to upset anyone.” Someone else said something along the lines of don’t be afraid to say something. They are going to be sad about it no matter what you say. That stuck with me. It truly is better to say something rather than nothing. In grief it’s nice to know that other people care. His memorial service was a few weeks later. A lot of people left early. I stayed the whole time and then a few people went to boss’s house after. I went and we spent a couple hours talking about him. I know it meant so much to them that I came and sat and talked. Just being there and talking truly means so much.
Ahh, I hope anything I say comes across as anything remotely resembling smart. Phew. "They are going to be sad about it no matter what you say," is such an amazing insight and so valuable to hear. It takes the pressure away, it just makes presence so much more valuable. Thank you for sharing this with us, truly.
Recently, the 54-yr old father of a friend of my son died after an illness. Ben had been friends with his youngest daughter since kindergarten, and they occasionally still ran into each other socially. I knew the whole family through school and church and was planning to go to the funeral home. Ben said he would send her a really nice text message. I told him no, he needed to go to the funeral home and see Emma. What would he want if his father had died? As we stood in the long line, he nervously asked me what he should say. I said I don’t know; just give her a hug. We ended up babbling various things to her sisters and mother, but in the end, that hug and just showing up meant more than any words.
Laura, goodness, I am sorry you've been dealing with this. The hug, showing up, BEING there, always is everything. Thank you for sharing this.
I have had my share of grief. My mother and father and one of my brothers. Each with their own nuance.
... but the hardest to experience [being an empath, I 'feel' others deeply] with grief was my father's grief after I was released from a psychiatric hospital. I was still feeling suicidal. He grieved just the thought of me being gone. He thought that if he loved me enough, he could wash it away. My stepmother asked him not to contact me by phone until I reached out, because at that time, words were a slippery slope. It was a smart thing for her to do, and it was the hardest thing he ever did.
I try to just be there for people, letting them know that I will listen and hold them whenever they need it ... checking in months after a loss when others had disappeared into 'normal'. I'd bake them a traditional Jewish pound cake [rich with eggs] that someone might bring to a Shiva [a 7-day period of mourning where people are free to visit and usually bring food so that the mourning do not have to cook or entertain] with the intention of helping them rebuild strength. I never know what to say exactly, but I AM there, and I hope that makes a difference.
Thank-you Tyler! This is so beautiful and encouraging.
This one was incredible. Wow. This quote especially is going to sit with me..."More than all things, it is the fear of saying the ‘wrong thing’ that makes us absent in all the moments where our presence matters most."
I've long felt like I'm filled with too many thoughts and too many words and often they spill out of me in messy and imperfect ways. I seem to always be the one saying things, and have often felt silly in the aftermath. Sometimes words don't come out the way I want or a moment doesn't evolve how I pictured. And there have been times when I've held back too, for fear of saying something wrong or silly or stupid. But this is a great reminder that it doesn't matter. I shouldn't ever feel bad about saying the things I feel. Sharing my thoughts, even if they aren't fully formed. I love showing up for those I love in any possible way I can. And I have always been known for my words. Thank you for the reminder that they are a gift, no matter what.
Taylor thank you so much, seriously. Always say the things, "perfect" is a trap, and doesn't even exist anyway. You're magic, I am so sure anything you offer is too.
🥹🥹🥹