This is the most beautiful thing you've ever written Belle. I love you so. Thank you for beating your brave, tender, and wild heart. I also love Turkish Delight, so there's that.
Dear Belle, I have struggled to get through "Open Heart Surgery". Each day I have read a bit more, trying to hold you from afar. Today, I quietly carried you on my walk thinking about your strength and clarity.
I have held onto this Joseph Campbell quote for many years and would like to share it with you. "We must be willing to let go of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us." Sending you my love.
Oh, my little Belly- button… in my mind you are the strong, spunky, determined, artistic, athletic, expressive, brave child at age 8. You have all that! It’s rooted in you. And you’ll write a new chapter and another chapter and you’ll use all those deep seeded qualities to get you to the next.
My dear Belle, I can imagine the floor you are standing on....loss, loss and pain (Patrick is at the end of his life, I am at the end of our lives together. There are these stages we pass through: infancy, childhood, adulthood, mid-life, for me, old age; I try not, to want anything, to not imagine how I will live my days and nights alone.
Reading your piece just now, I thought about the snake, the necessity of shedding that which defines shape, agility, and ability to survive the inevitability of change; the strangeness of growing into another skin. Is it something like squeezing through a too-small space? For me the days are grey to black mingled with the smell of orange blossoms, the sound of birds, messages from friends and grandchildren, marking the time.
I admire you, Belle, for creating art and meaning, writing into the ideas and emotions of life's changes, for making marks honoring it all.
This is the year of the snake. Let us find peace here. Next, there will be life in the year of the horse.
Oh Belle. You are such a beautiful writer and human. You had me cry and cry over my coffee this morning as I glimpsed into your journey. I’m here and looking forward to giving you a big hug soon.
Carol here, and worded so beautifully that coming apart, the alter, the spring flowers.
Years ago, I ran into my midwife who was so important in my first birth. My son was in a awkward position with his arm around his neck. I was panicking until I just screamed and had a blow out of fear and overload of pain. My midwife smiled like a Buddha and sometimes laughed at the things I said. It was perfect. I knew she had made it to the other side, her first child about two, and I could make it too.
When I asked her how she was doing, she answered "terrible." Her husband had fallen in love with another woman, had moved out of the home they had built and farm they created. She was
devastated and said, "I just wish it was two months later because I know I'm going to be alright."
Stay true and carry on, it's gonna get better, much better. Loving thoughts to you and your family, Carol Brendsel
This is the most beautiful thing you've ever written Belle. I love you so. Thank you for beating your brave, tender, and wild heart. I also love Turkish Delight, so there's that.
Dear Belle, I have struggled to get through "Open Heart Surgery". Each day I have read a bit more, trying to hold you from afar. Today, I quietly carried you on my walk thinking about your strength and clarity.
I have held onto this Joseph Campbell quote for many years and would like to share it with you. "We must be willing to let go of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us." Sending you my love.
Oh, my little Belly- button… in my mind you are the strong, spunky, determined, artistic, athletic, expressive, brave child at age 8. You have all that! It’s rooted in you. And you’ll write a new chapter and another chapter and you’ll use all those deep seeded qualities to get you to the next.
Wait, I forgot lovable. You are loved, dearly.
My dear Belle, I can imagine the floor you are standing on....loss, loss and pain (Patrick is at the end of his life, I am at the end of our lives together. There are these stages we pass through: infancy, childhood, adulthood, mid-life, for me, old age; I try not, to want anything, to not imagine how I will live my days and nights alone.
Reading your piece just now, I thought about the snake, the necessity of shedding that which defines shape, agility, and ability to survive the inevitability of change; the strangeness of growing into another skin. Is it something like squeezing through a too-small space? For me the days are grey to black mingled with the smell of orange blossoms, the sound of birds, messages from friends and grandchildren, marking the time.
I admire you, Belle, for creating art and meaning, writing into the ideas and emotions of life's changes, for making marks honoring it all.
This is the year of the snake. Let us find peace here. Next, there will be life in the year of the horse.
I’m so sorry to hear about Patrick, Marian. Sending love.
Funny, elegant, heartbreaking, honest .. so well said. We are here for you. ❤️
You are so brave and so beautiful, Belle. My heart is with you. Love you.
Big deep breath in and so much love and awe for your courage pouring out! Love and hugs to you!💕
Tender, raw and beautiful. Thank you for opening your heart and sharing. x
Oof I haven't read past the first sentence and I just had to send you my heartfelt love & empathy.
Oh no. To grieve hope and fantasy, the loss of 'happily ever after. I am so sorry you are going through this.
Hugs from Santa Cruz
I am really sad to hear this news. I will be praying for all three of you as you walk through this very hard season.
loving you so much always. i can’t believe you have had the same pillie for so long!
Oh Belle. You are such a beautiful writer and human. You had me cry and cry over my coffee this morning as I glimpsed into your journey. I’m here and looking forward to giving you a big hug soon.
Sanfroid Angioplasty. Keep it up. I love you belly.
Sade? Hell yes.
Hey Belle,
Carol here, and worded so beautifully that coming apart, the alter, the spring flowers.
Years ago, I ran into my midwife who was so important in my first birth. My son was in a awkward position with his arm around his neck. I was panicking until I just screamed and had a blow out of fear and overload of pain. My midwife smiled like a Buddha and sometimes laughed at the things I said. It was perfect. I knew she had made it to the other side, her first child about two, and I could make it too.
When I asked her how she was doing, she answered "terrible." Her husband had fallen in love with another woman, had moved out of the home they had built and farm they created. She was
devastated and said, "I just wish it was two months later because I know I'm going to be alright."
Stay true and carry on, it's gonna get better, much better. Loving thoughts to you and your family, Carol Brendsel
Sending you so much love Belle