I was the final note in the quartet of children that made up the siblings in our family. Growing up, I often felt like the cymbals. Clashing and clanging at odd moments while everyone else knew their part off by heart, chiming in appropriately, hitting their notes, playing in harmony.
Today, only my sisters and I remain of the original band. My daughters and two nieces now carry the tune. While the notes between the sister-pairs are strong, the notes between the cousins are far apart and barely audible. Since my brother and sister-in-law’s tragic deaths over twenty years ago, my nieces have had little contact with any of us. The drama and turmoil of those days leading up to and following their parents’ deaths were incomprehensible for an 18 and 19-year-old. As my brother and mother had an argument shortly before the events unfolded, and my mother was inconsolable in her grief, they chose to distance themselves from all of us. The distance was never closed.
Losing her son was a heavy loss for my mother. Losing her connection with her first-born granddaughters was a loss that weighed heavily on her heart for the rest of her life.
Yesterday, to find balance and calm in a day that while significant in terms of the calendar, was still just another day, I headed into my studio to create.
I have always believed it is the gift of Love that brings us into this world and love that carries us out. All we can leave behind is that which carries us in, through and out of life – Love.
We, the ones left behind on this earthly plane have a choice, to pick up the remains of pain and turmoil or follow the path of love.
I am grateful for my practice of art journaling. For its grace and reflective space and healing arts. It holds me steady on the path of love.
In this page, the six roses represent our original family — My mother, father, brother, two sisters and me.
The five birds flying together represent my sisters and me and my two daughters. The two little birds just coming out of the rose on the left are my two grandchildren.
In the middle, flying separately in a misty sky, are my nieces and grand-nephew. The flowers at the bottom represent La Grande Famille growing wild and free and loving all around the world.
No matter if we spend time together or how far apart our stories, we are always connected through this circle of love that is our family.
As I finished the page, the words came to me, “In the garden of your life let love grow wild and free.”
_______________________
I also created another page yesterday (I use another journal alongside me as I paint to wipe off excess paints).
As I wiped off paint and held myself lovingly within the harmony and the discordant notes of family, I knew this page was about not fitting into a box, but living in the messy of life. Something that spoke to all my emotions on this day.
I wasn’t sure what I was feeling/expressing until I finished and then sat down to write in my journal what creating this page brought up for me. And that’s when I understood…
Grief is Messy…

Grief Is Messy by Louise Gallagher Grief is messy. It follows no well-known path travelling to the beat of its own drum and pushing through boundaries you desperately put in place to keep its presence at bay. Grief is stealthy It dresses up in familiar clothing masquerading as your best friend while its steals your identity encroaching on the spaces of your heart you want desperately to avoid visiting. There is no taming grief. There is only its heavy cloak of companionship wearing you down until one day you find yourself arriving at that place where moments spent wrapped in grief’s company die away as softly as the sweet melody of the voice of the one who is gone fades into memory.
Grief is messy. So is love. Parenting. Marriage. There’s no one path. We truly are discovering as we go along.
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Ah yes — the beautiful mess of life Lisa — live it whole-heartedly and the path is created as we go along.
Hugs my frined.
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Life is filled with contradictions and the unexplained. Grief and Love are just two of the many parts of the whole. Walking the path can be very difficult at times. Every so often one needs a quiet moment to stop, rest, reflect, heal bruised hearts and in so doing one can continue the journey. Best Regards.
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Such a beautiful and soothing comment Goff. Thank you for shining your light on my path. It feels very comforting. ❤
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So pleased that my words helped. Best Regards.
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Life and everything to do with it are messy. I wish it was less so. Being estranged from family is the worst. Hope you find your way back to each other
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It is that Tino — messy and estrangement makes it feel even messier. When my daughters were younger they would often ask me to reach out to their cousins as they missed them — and they are their only cousins. I told them we must always reach out as long as we do it within the truth that other has the right to respond or not. It has nothing to do with love. It is always about where they’re at – their pain, hurt, confusion. And so… I still occasionally reach out and leave it to them how they respond. Hugs and thank you for your presence.
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Life is equally messy and utterly beautiful. It’s what we see in it that makes it rather messy or rather beautiful. I am thankful to be able to put the messy, frustrating, disappointing behind me and to forget it even, but I want to keep and cherish the beautiful forever – it’s all about love isn’t it?!
Beautiful compo with all the ‘little happenings’ well explained. Hugs from afar.
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Oh my Kiki. What an utterly beautiful comment. So full of truth and wisdom and compassion.
and yes, it is all about love. ❤ And I'm with you — cherishing the beautiful forever. ❤
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Grief is indeed messy, when it arrives it never fully leaves
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Ahhh yes. Joanne. Such wisdom. Thank you. ❤
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I remember a story from the Zhuang Zi. Someone dies and an old man in his tent starts banging on his tin plate in grief. This is the wise man who is supposed to be above it all. The banging begins to bother others who go to check on him. They ask the old man, hey aren’t you the wise man, how much longer are you going to bang on that pan. The old man says I feel it as long as I need to feel it and when I don’t feel it anymore I’ll stop banging on the pan. (a paraphrase of the story but I think you get the point.)
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Oh my goodness MS. What a beautiful story (and yes. I am so very grateful for your beautiful gift of words and light.
I love how it gives such loving permission to banging on the pot. Smiling now. ❤
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You’re very welcome ❤
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Dear Louise, I love following your thoughts and emotions on grief and love. On life!
The day loss comes too easy to us we do not fully live. Parts of our hearts are torn and
lost. So much might be part of this person.
These very same losses can at times become a strength as you feel their love within you.
Wonderful and loving work you have given.
Miriam
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Oooohhh. Miriam — your words are ringing in my heart with their beautiful light of truth and love!
I am grateful. As I’m sure you know, one of the greatest gifts a writer/artist can receive is the gift of being seen and heard and the knowing that in that being seen and heard, their words/art resonates with another’s heart.
Thank you for that gift. ❤
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Indeed, life is messy, but it is so rewarding to endeavor to tidy it up. Wonderful post, Louise!
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Thank you Eugi. I smiled when I read your phrase “Endeavor to tidy it up” — my mother is probably smiling too. I’m not known for my ‘tidy up’ abilities! 🙂 Tee hee! Miracles do happen! Thank you.
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Most welcome, Louise. I’m not a domestic goddess, by any means, but sometimes house cleaning is a stress reliever!
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I relate! Especially if I make lots of noise while I”m doing it! 🙂 🙂 Or, as I write about today — pot banging! 🙂
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Beautiful and true. Thinking of you and sending you lots of care Louise. 💗
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Thank you LaDonna — sending warmth and light back. ❤
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A beautiful and honest expression and insight of the separation and suffering that grief can reveal and open in us Louise. There is so much to learn along the journey of grief 🙏🏻💕
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