This Gentle Journey

03/03/2026

Grief is real, prolonged and painful. Please don’t pass it off as abnormal, or “taking too long”… the waves get smaller, just hang on 🩵

02/21/2026

There is no obligation on the part of the House of Commons or any Member of Parliament to authorize the publication of an e-petition or to present an e-petition or a paper petition to the House of Commons. Neither the House of Commons nor any Member of Parliament authorizing the publication of an e-...

02/21/2026

When someone dies, their absence becomes its own presence. We come to love and hate their void. It represents all that is gone, all that we loved, all that we miss.

Read More ➡️ https://whatsyourgrief.com/gief-is-love-we-only-find-in-loss/

01/11/2026

I Carry You with Me, Always

I carry you with me always,
not as a memory sealed in the past,
but as a presence woven into my days,
a companion on this journey.

You are there in the pause before decisions,
in the echo of your steady logic,
your gentle insistence
that I not be so hard on myself.

You appear in grocery aisles
when I reach for the brand you preferred,
and in the quiet satisfaction
of choosing it anyway.

I carry you in my habits,
in the choices I make without thinking,
the songs I skip because they hurt too much,
and the ones I play
because they still feel like home.

I catch myself setting aside stories to tell you later,
forgetting, for a moment,
that “later” has changed.

I carry you in laughter that arrives unexpectedly,
in jokes you would have loved,
in moments where your reaction is so clear

I can almost see your smile.
Sometimes that laughter comforts me.
Sometimes it cracks the ache wide open again.
Both belong to you.

I carry you in grief, too,
in the way certain dates feel heavier,
in how silence can suddenly feel crowded.

Yet I also carry you in resilience,
in the quiet courage
of getting through ordinary days.

You are present in every step forward,
not urging me on,
but walking with me.

I carry you forever,
because love does not disappear.
It changes shape,
but remains a part of me,
always.

~ 'I Carry You with Me, Always' by Spirit of a Hippie

✍️ Mary Anne Byrne

~ Art by Olamik

01/01/2026

I wish you a gentle new year without your loved one… keep them close with small rituals of remembrance and love 🩵

12/24/2025

Sending love and gentle healing energy to you all during Christmas. It can be so hard, being without that person you loved. I ask that you light a candle and do a small remembrance ritual to keep them close with you 🩵 I am with you always, even across the miles.

11/22/2025

08/19/2025

Those We Carry Within

May we treasure
and keep alive
the memories of those we have lost,

for though the veil has carried them
beyond our reach,
their essence lingers quietly,
like a fragrance that drifts softly in the air,
like a light that continues to glow
after the flame has gone out.

They are with us
in the smallest of ways:
in the words we speak that echo theirs,
in the places that once held their presence,
still warmed by it.

They are with us in our joy,
and in our sorrow,
in our moments of solitude,
and in our gatherings with others.

For love does not end with their passing;
it simply changes its form.

In remembering them,
we weave their spirit into our own.
In speaking their names,
we keep them alive in the world.

And in cherishing what they gave us,
wisdom, kindness, laughter, love,
we carry their spirit forward,

ensuring they remain
not only a part of our past,
but also a quiet companion in our present,
and a gentle guide into our future.

~ 'Those We Carry Within' by Spirit of a Hippie

✍️ Mary Anne Byrne

~ Art Unknown via Pinterest

08/16/2025

Grief Walks Beside Us

Grief is not something we shed,
but something that walks beside us,
patient and unhurried.

It lingers in the quiet moments,
in the spaces between breaths,
sometimes pressing close,
sometimes fading like mist at dawn.

It is a companion of memory and love,
a reminder of what we have lost
and what we still carry.

To live with grief is to learn a new rhythm:
to feel the ache without letting it consume,
to honor what was
while opening ourselves to what remains.

Day by day, life continues,
softly, imperfectly, tenderly,
and we move forward
not by leaving grief behind,
but by allowing it to walk with us,
shaping the depth of our hearts
and the contours of our joy.

~ 'Grief Walks Beside Us' by Spirit of a Hippie

✍️ Mary Anne Byrne

~ Art by Emelie Jegerings

08/16/2025

Grief is an ache, a longing, a longing to be with the one we have lost.
But what if, they're not lost at all?
What if they have simply stepped into another room,
through a doorway made of light?

We cannot follow, not yet. But we can imagine.
They are there, where pain does not reach,
where time is kind,
where laughter lingers like music in the air.
Maybe they're sitting beneath a tree that blooms in every season,
watching the wind carry our love like petals on the breeze.

And sometimes, when the world is quiet,
we feel them.
Not in the past, but close,
in a moment, a memory,
a dream that feels too real to be only a dream.
Maybe that’s them, reminding us:
"I’m not gone. I’m just elsewhere. Still loving you. Still near.

~'Still Near' by Spirit of a Hippie

✍️ Mary Anne Byrne

~ Art by IllustNation_Nakata

08/14/2025

Instead of saying, "I know what it feels like", let's say "I cannot imagine your heartbreak".

Instead of saying, "You're strong, you'll get through this, let's say " You'll hurt, and I'll be here.

Instead of saying, "You look like you're doing well, Let's say, "How are you holding up today?"

Instead of saying, "Healing takes time", let's say "Healing has no timeline".

Instead of saying, "Everything happens for a reason, let's say "This must feel so terribly senseless right now".

And when there are no words to say at all, you don't need to try and find some. Love speaks in silences too.

~ 'Words' by Ullie-Kaye

~ Art by Jennifer Yoswa

08/14/2025

“To My Caregivers, My Children”
—You didn’t sign up for this.
Not for the slow unraveling of the parent you once knew,
not for the days that feel like watching me
fade in real time.

You didn’t sign up for the tremor in my hands,
the halting of my words,
the way I sometimes stare at the wall
because my mind has slipped somewhere you can’t follow.

You didn’t sign up for the smell of medicine on my breath,
for changing my clothes when I cannot,
for the endless cycle of pills, appointments,
and tears I try to hide.

And yet… here you are.
Not turning away.
Not running from the parts of this that are ugly,
or heavy,
or unbearably slow.

You see me—
not just the shell of me,
but the one who taught you to walk,
who stayed up in the night when you were sick,
who loved you before you even had a name.

And now,
you love me in the most unglamorous,
unphotographed way—
with hands that lift me,
with patience that holds me together,
with a steady presence that says,
“I will not leave.”

I know it’s hard to watch me
die by inches.
It’s hard to see me slip away
and still come back tomorrow,
ready to help me take another slow step.

But please know this—
every touch, every small mercy you give me
is not lost.
It is written in the deepest part of me.
And if I could,
I would gather it all into words
and tell you how much it means
that my last chapters
are being written in your hands.

Thank you—
for carrying me
through the part of life no one dreams about.
For showing me
that love doesn’t end
when the body begins to fade.

Author unknown