This is the craft of writing from and through the heart. Now seeing you as a composer, as well as a writer, I am sure I will return to your words again.
Thank you for knocking me sideways and touching my soul.
Beautiful image to send love with 80 baby birds and to wish the gift of nourishment and comfort with mealworms every 30 minutes. I just provided my email for your upcoming course The Deep End. I'm excited to have you bring the conversation of death back into the world. After my daughter Alix died, no one mentioned her. I still bring her up so she is not erased.
Thank you so much, Julie. I so look forward to hearing your thoughts on The Deep End, when it’s time! I’m glad to know that you’re honouring Alix in the ways that you are. Thank you for being here.
I’m grateful for all that you offer the community in your writings and now in your upcoming course! It will be an exciting forum for discussions on death. I appreciate that you mention my daughter Alix and the ways that I honor her. It keeps her alive.
“the weight of what I could not save and the grace of what I could, occupy entirely different masses; they cannot be measured against one another.” - I could feel the weight of these words shift right through my ribs. Thank you for doing the work with both life and death 💜
My dear friend, my heart aches alongside yours while also being cracked wide open with gratitude for you. And Daniel. And all our dearly beloved departed. And all the dogs ;)
I read this with tears in my eyes and a bow of thankfulness to you, Chloe, for opening my heart yet again, to life as it is, not as I wish it would be. And that sequence of how a fly sees was absolutely breathtaking, as was your "no, no, no, no, no, no" to your friend Daniel's death. Thank you for being you, for writing with such precision and wisdom and heart. Blessings and a hug.
Chloe, thank you for all the lives you feed - with hands, with words, with presence. My heart aches for Daniel and for you for losing him. And my heart gives thanks that he found some comfort in this world through your gentleness. I am so touched and quaked open by everything I read here. 🤍
"temporal precision" -- the perfect title for a ... I don't even want to call this an essay, it's more like a shimmering moment of reality ...
Far too many people I know are carrying some form of that last message from a friend or family member, wondering if it was a goodbye. I think we carry them until the moment we step over that threshold ourselves. Thank you for this. 💙
I think you’re right, Nia. Those messages can become like gossamer thin threads that keep us tied to the final moments of tangible connection (which become entirely unnecessary once we crossover). I’m so glad you liked the title :) Thank you for reading 💜
Sitting on the floor, a box lid in front of you with the most beautiful picture, a scene of a magical woodland, with every kind of tree , some there are not even names for, yet to be discovered. A path lined with soft moss in brilliant shades of green , blankets the forest, and birds, so many birds. Just enough light from the full moon streams in , illuminating the pieces of the puzzle carefully fitted together. But you are holding the last piece in your hand, a slight crease between your eyebrows . One piece left , and one space right in the center, still sits empty, fathomless, like a question with no answer. But the last piece does not fit in the last place. Then you realize, looking up to the face in the moon smiling down, you whisper a thank you. As if the moon and stars and the black velvet sky told you there is no piece that fits neatly in the center, it is infinite, it is Daniel, it is every moment and every one we have loved. We are just a part of everything .And the words come to you, and you tell us with such beauty, and Iove. I am truly grateful .
…so many birds… I feel a twinkle of joy knowing that some day, whenever it’s written to be my time, I’ll join Daniel in the answerless question ♥️ Mighty happy to be alive at the same time as you in the meantime, though, I’ll tell you that much…
I felt this in my bones with an ache in my heart I cannot quite describe. I am deeply sorry for the loss of your friend. Suicide has touched my life several times. Sending you and all your little birds so much love. 🤍✨
I really engage with your writing and I am impressed and heartened by what you do. I am quite elderly now and death is a companion that I am no longer fearful of, which is not to say I am not concerned about the manner of my dying. Your tender care of birds (and flies) is joyful to read and your words about dying and death are so thought provoking. And your writing style and literary grasp is both masterful and beautiful. Yours is a Substack I love to see come in.
Helen, my goodness, thank you. You are most kind. I’m heartened to hear that you’ve moved from fear to friendship, of sorts. Thank you so much for your presence here.
I found myself highlighting multiple sentences to use to re-stack this, always thinking that the next one was better. Each sentence is gold, as is your heart, Chloe.
"Just as my friend no longer inhabited the physical self he had once known, I no longer inhabited the me which existed prior to his Death." What a concept. I have never thought about this reciprocity in dealing with the death of my mother. Thank you, Chloe, for helping me consider a new perspective.
Another incredibly beautiful piece. To know what it is to receive one of those phone calls, to analyze the last messages, to resist the new reality you are being asked to step into, and to learn to renegotiate the friendship and your own identity afterwards -- all of this resonated so deeply with me. Thank you <3
Dear Chloe. You write with so much beauty and poetry, and I’m both transported and moved into my own memories. My heart is with you and your loss which you bear with such grace. My beloved brother, David, took his own life, too sensitive for this sharp edged world. His pain so great, he walked into an oncoming train. Loving my brother as much as I do, I trust him and his decision to choose the train as his transportation into the next realm. As you say, so wisely, Death took his physical presence but I continue to have a rich relationship with him. I love your thinking and eloquence. Thank you!
Dear Katie. I am most grateful for your kindness, and especially for your sharing. My heart extends itself to yours, in recognition and solidarity, and I bow to the trust, love and grace that you met your brother's Death with. I'm happy and touched to know that the relationship continues. Thank you, so much, for being here.
This is the craft of writing from and through the heart. Now seeing you as a composer, as well as a writer, I am sure I will return to your words again.
Thank you for knocking me sideways and touching my soul.
Yes, yes, yes...beautifully said. It's as if words are strung together as notes of music.
John, what a gift to have you here and reading. Thank you for your equally beautiful words, and your openness.
Beautiful image to send love with 80 baby birds and to wish the gift of nourishment and comfort with mealworms every 30 minutes. I just provided my email for your upcoming course The Deep End. I'm excited to have you bring the conversation of death back into the world. After my daughter Alix died, no one mentioned her. I still bring her up so she is not erased.
Thank you so much, Julie. I so look forward to hearing your thoughts on The Deep End, when it’s time! I’m glad to know that you’re honouring Alix in the ways that you are. Thank you for being here.
I’m grateful for all that you offer the community in your writings and now in your upcoming course! It will be an exciting forum for discussions on death. I appreciate that you mention my daughter Alix and the ways that I honor her. It keeps her alive.
“the weight of what I could not save and the grace of what I could, occupy entirely different masses; they cannot be measured against one another.” - I could feel the weight of these words shift right through my ribs. Thank you for doing the work with both life and death 💜
My sweet sister, thank you for your depth of feeling, and your support (and brilliance and the inspiration you radiate) 💜✨
🤗🤗🤗🤗💜💜💜💜
Oh Chloe, there is both the vastness of the universe and the softest of breath in your words. My heart aches for Daniel, and for you, who loved him.
Again your writing lands with such weight for me, yet is so gently delivered.
I am certainly here for The Deep End, thank you my friend.
My dear friend, my heart aches alongside yours while also being cracked wide open with gratitude for you. And Daniel. And all our dearly beloved departed. And all the dogs ;)
I read this with tears in my eyes and a bow of thankfulness to you, Chloe, for opening my heart yet again, to life as it is, not as I wish it would be. And that sequence of how a fly sees was absolutely breathtaking, as was your "no, no, no, no, no, no" to your friend Daniel's death. Thank you for being you, for writing with such precision and wisdom and heart. Blessings and a hug.
Susan, I return the bow, with endless gratitude for your wide open heart. Many blessings and hugs to you, my friend.
Chloe, thank you for all the lives you feed - with hands, with words, with presence. My heart aches for Daniel and for you for losing him. And my heart gives thanks that he found some comfort in this world through your gentleness. I am so touched and quaked open by everything I read here. 🤍
Lydia, I am touched by your reading and by your kindness. And your (clearly massive) heart ❤️
"temporal precision" -- the perfect title for a ... I don't even want to call this an essay, it's more like a shimmering moment of reality ...
Far too many people I know are carrying some form of that last message from a friend or family member, wondering if it was a goodbye. I think we carry them until the moment we step over that threshold ourselves. Thank you for this. 💙
I think you’re right, Nia. Those messages can become like gossamer thin threads that keep us tied to the final moments of tangible connection (which become entirely unnecessary once we crossover). I’m so glad you liked the title :) Thank you for reading 💜
Sitting on the floor, a box lid in front of you with the most beautiful picture, a scene of a magical woodland, with every kind of tree , some there are not even names for, yet to be discovered. A path lined with soft moss in brilliant shades of green , blankets the forest, and birds, so many birds. Just enough light from the full moon streams in , illuminating the pieces of the puzzle carefully fitted together. But you are holding the last piece in your hand, a slight crease between your eyebrows . One piece left , and one space right in the center, still sits empty, fathomless, like a question with no answer. But the last piece does not fit in the last place. Then you realize, looking up to the face in the moon smiling down, you whisper a thank you. As if the moon and stars and the black velvet sky told you there is no piece that fits neatly in the center, it is infinite, it is Daniel, it is every moment and every one we have loved. We are just a part of everything .And the words come to you, and you tell us with such beauty, and Iove. I am truly grateful .
(One baby step at a time ♥️)
…so many birds… I feel a twinkle of joy knowing that some day, whenever it’s written to be my time, I’ll join Daniel in the answerless question ♥️ Mighty happy to be alive at the same time as you in the meantime, though, I’ll tell you that much…
I felt this in my bones with an ache in my heart I cannot quite describe. I am deeply sorry for the loss of your friend. Suicide has touched my life several times. Sending you and all your little birds so much love. 🤍✨
Grace, I’m so sorry. I send you, and your aching heart, greatest love✨🕊️
Your words make my heart ache with some kind of shadow longing.
Helen, I'm so grateful to you for reading ❤️
I really engage with your writing and I am impressed and heartened by what you do. I am quite elderly now and death is a companion that I am no longer fearful of, which is not to say I am not concerned about the manner of my dying. Your tender care of birds (and flies) is joyful to read and your words about dying and death are so thought provoking. And your writing style and literary grasp is both masterful and beautiful. Yours is a Substack I love to see come in.
Helen, my goodness, thank you. You are most kind. I’m heartened to hear that you’ve moved from fear to friendship, of sorts. Thank you so much for your presence here.
I found myself highlighting multiple sentences to use to re-stack this, always thinking that the next one was better. Each sentence is gold, as is your heart, Chloe.
Juliette, you are most kind. Thank you, so much.
"Just as my friend no longer inhabited the physical self he had once known, I no longer inhabited the me which existed prior to his Death." What a concept. I have never thought about this reciprocity in dealing with the death of my mother. Thank you, Chloe, for helping me consider a new perspective.
It's an extraordinary transition, for all involved... Thank you so much for reading, dear Sharron.
I've saved a fly, and lost a beloved to suicide. Thank you for the view that is many views of both of our experiences.
A nod of recognition in your direction, friend. Thank you.
Another incredibly beautiful piece. To know what it is to receive one of those phone calls, to analyze the last messages, to resist the new reality you are being asked to step into, and to learn to renegotiate the friendship and your own identity afterwards -- all of this resonated so deeply with me. Thank you <3
Thank you, Monica, for your kind words and openness. I'm sorry it's familiar terrain for you 🤍
You are a gifted writer and a lovely soul. Thank you for this beautiful essay.
Thank you so much for reading, Jeanne, and for taking the time to share these kind words.
Dear Chloe. You write with so much beauty and poetry, and I’m both transported and moved into my own memories. My heart is with you and your loss which you bear with such grace. My beloved brother, David, took his own life, too sensitive for this sharp edged world. His pain so great, he walked into an oncoming train. Loving my brother as much as I do, I trust him and his decision to choose the train as his transportation into the next realm. As you say, so wisely, Death took his physical presence but I continue to have a rich relationship with him. I love your thinking and eloquence. Thank you!
Dear Katie. I am most grateful for your kindness, and especially for your sharing. My heart extends itself to yours, in recognition and solidarity, and I bow to the trust, love and grace that you met your brother's Death with. I'm happy and touched to know that the relationship continues. Thank you, so much, for being here.