Love Letter to the Other Side (2) – Rivers of Grief: Reflections on Writing and Loss

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I hadn’t planned to weave words about love, loss, and the tender embrace of memory this morning. Or so I thought.

Yet, as I settle at my desk, a warm coffee cup in hand, its steam mingling with the cool morning air the furnace has not yet warmed, something shifts. Outside, the once-sluggish river, liberated from the icy clutches of the Polar Vortex, now courses swiftly. It dances between lingering islands of ice, eagerly racing towards a distant, unseen sea.

In that moment, I surrender to the muse’s gentle call.

And for that, I am eternally grateful.

Grief, I’ve found, mirrors the river’s journey. At times, it surges with relentless force, seeking an outlet for its profound depth of feeling. Then, unexpectedly, it halts – frozen in a moment where memories cling tightly to the sharp edges of loss.

Yet, it’s often the simplest of triggers – a familiar melody, a fleeting scent, the echo of a smile – that loosens its grasp.

Released, grief moves once more, flowing with renewed ease, leaving in its wake not just a void, but an abiding presence of Love.

Beneath The Mountain Ash
by Louise Gallagher

The space you held
remains, not empty,
filled with echoes of memory
once alive with your soft laughter,
rippling through time
like the rhythmic tick-tock
of the cuckoo clock you loved
on the wall beside the kitchen sink 
merrily chiming away the passing hours.

I see you there,
at the kitchen sink
hands veiled in soapy water,
gazing out to where the Mountain Ash
stands, bare
shrouded in snow,
its roots frozen,
awaiting the tender thaw
of spring’s warm breath.

I see you 
still, standing silent
beneath its naked branches.

I close my eyes
and breathe the air
scented with lingering tendrils
of the perfume you wore,
it clings to the soft blue shawl
I've wrapped around my shoulders.

It was yours, in the  before time.
I hold it close 
and wrap it around my shoulders,
tightly.

I breathe. In. Out.

Silently, you fade
into memory’s warm embrace.

11 thoughts on “Love Letter to the Other Side (2) – Rivers of Grief: Reflections on Writing and Loss”


  2. Your “love letter to the other side” is so beautifully written and moving.  How blessed you all are to have each other……..the previous 2 photos of all of you ladies together a couple days ago were so full of joy and happiness.  Such lovely keepsakes.   Cherish all your times and memories shared – Jackie will always be with you ❤️

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    • Very blessed Val. (and thank you!) I am off to Vancouver next week to spend time with my eldest daughter and family as well as my sister, Anne, who lives on Gabriola Island. For Anne, this journey was made more painful by her inability to fly due to a blood clot. We’re both very grateful we have each other as we are the only siblings left from the original four. ❤

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  5. I THINK that having that wonderful shawl of your sister, is giving you a tremendous amount of tenderness and love – wrapping your love for her and hers for you around your neck. Sounds just the right thing to do. I ‘inherited’ some pulse-warmers (knitted tubes going over your forearm to keep your pulse warmed up) from my mum. They were knitted by my sister and she let me have them. I feel very connected all through winter because they all are from our mum and they not only warm my body parts but also my heart.

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