Piping Hot Reflections

07/04/2026

The stone feels cold beneath your hand,
steady, unmoving—
so different from everything you remember.

And yet, this is where love rests now,
in quiet places like this.

Words become simple here—
not because the feeling is small,
but because it’s too big
to be fully said.

I miss you.

Not just your voice,
or your laugh—
but everything that made life
feel whole when you were in it.

And even now,
with nothing left to hold onto,
that love remains—
unchanged,
unfading,
still yours.

—Tears of Memory

04/04/2026

03/04/2026

My name is Kevin McLean I’m an Independent Funeral Celebrant from Falkirk. To be asked by a grieving family to conduct the service of a deceased loved one is indeed an honour and great privilege.

I have many years of public speaking experience both in a professional working environment and also on the circuit as a respected Burns speaker and narrator. All skills which I believe stand me in good stead as I embark on this new career choice.

I offer a range of bespoke & tailored services catering for all faiths both religious and non religious. My services are all thoughtfully and lovingly put together in order that you may share your deep sadness and grief together as one.

As a piper with some 33 years experience I also offer a musical tribute that your dearly departed loved one would be proud of. From piping the coffin on arrival at the venue to piping it in prior to the service and even playing a lament or slow air as you take a moment of reflection to remember them. A truly unique service.

25/03/2026

💔

My love to all grieving.

From ‘loss’ 📘the new collection x

23/03/2026

This heart feels fragile now,
like something held together carefully.
Each memory presses gently
against what still aches inside.

There are tears that come quietly,
without warning or reason.
Just moments that remind me
how much has changed.

But it’s not only the sadness
that stays with me.
It’s the way life continues
without asking if I’m ready.

Days move forward anyway,
bringing routines that feel unfamiliar.
Even joy feels different now,
like it’s missing something essential.

Because the hardest part
isn’t just what I feel inside—
it’s living in a world
that no longer includes you.

Everything keeps going,
but not the way it used to.
And I’m left learning slowly
how to exist within that change.

Still carrying love,
still carrying you,
in a life that feels
both full and empty at once.

—Angels Are Near

13/03/2026

Today marks a deeply somber anniversary as the community of Dunblane, and the world, remembers the 16 children and their teacher, Gwen Mayor, who lost their lives on March 13, 1996. It is a moment to reflect on the lives they lived and the profound impact this tragedy had on the town and the nation.

The resilience of the Dunblane community and the lasting legacy of the "Snowdrop Campaign," which led to significant changes in UK gun laws, remain a powerful testament to their memory.

May they rest in peace, our thoughts are with the families, survivors, and everyone in the Stirling, Falkirk and surrounding area who continue to carry this memory today. 🪽

01/02/2026

The ocean keeps repeating itself,
like it’s afraid you’ll fade.
I stand where water meets my ankles,
holding what the years gave me.

I shape a heart with my hands,
small enough to carry, bright enough to see.
It feels strange to offer it to the horizon,
but you always understood gestures.

Every lesson you left behind
still finds its way into my days.
I hear you in patience,
I see you in kindness I didn’t used to have.

Forgetting was never the task,
living was.
And you taught me how to stay open,
even when it hurts quietly.

The sea keeps what it takes,
and gives back what it can.
I keep you the same way.

— Silent Tears For You

24/01/2026

A row of sunflowers faces forward,
yellow heads lifted without effort.
I stand behind them with my hands in my pockets,
learning how to keep breathing.

The beginning was the shock of morning,
coffee cooling while I stared.
Everything looked the same outside,
and nothing matched inside me.

The middle is this long stretch of days,
where I function and still feel tender.
I can laugh at a memory,
then ache right after.

The sunflowers don’t apologize for blooming,
they just show up and hold their color.
I study their simple courage,
the way they keep turning toward light.

And then there’s the rest of my life—
not a threat, just a fact I carry.
A chapter that doesn’t close,
only changes its tone.

So I walk past the flowers slowly,
letting their brightness teach me patience.
Grief has seasons inside one heart,
and love stays through all of them.

— Silent Tears For You

07/01/2026

Healing doesn’t follow a schedule, and that’s okay.
Care can be quiet, steady, and ongoing.
It’s a gentle reminder to keep showing up for yourself.

03/01/2026

Another year begins,
and though time moves forward,
our hearts still walk
beside those we lost

31/12/2025

When I say ‘happy new year’,
I’m not for a moment,
expecting this to occur,
for that is not possible,
a year must be all things.

Happiness must come and go,
like the tides and the winds,
just as sadness,
and all the emotions in between.

When I say ‘happy new year’,
I’m really wishing you,
a baseline of peace,
of gratitude.

Because if you can sit with these things,
for the most part,
happiness will thrive,
when it does arrive,
and sadness will know its place in the mix.

If you can nourish these things,
daily,
you will also grow hope,
for it flourishes in such soil.

And hope is the key,
to this enigmatic state
of ‘happiness’ we seek.

When I say ‘happy new year’,
I’m really wishing you more happy days,
than sad days,
more joy than misery,
more laughter than tears…
and the wisdom to accept,
that they all belong.

Happy new year, my friends.
Happy new year.

Donna Ashworth

From ‘to the women’ 📕❤️

#2026