Thank you for sharing. I was just thinking of you today, wondering how you are. Your honest words made me cry. I lost my mother four years ago, totally unexpectedly, and I still miss her every day. Be very very kind to yourself. Sending you love and compassion and many warm thoughts.
Oh Elsa, I’m so sorry for your loss of your mom. Missing her everyday sounds right. ❤️💔❤️ Thank you for your kind words, I’ll do my best to follow them.
Your post is the first thing I've chosen to read this morning, rather than world news, ads, appt reminders or the occasional personal note in my email feed. I'm so glad I did. I am deeply touched by & resonate to all that you so beautifully and openly shared about your grieving process. Thank you. I appreciate & admire your honesty and vulnerability. Especially around grief which is all-too-often navigated privately and not talked about publically. By doing so, you gave your audience a different kind of gift.
I support your steps to surrender, focus on self care, give yourself grace, & discover in time with limited or no expectations where the grief journey will take you. Meanwhile, I send caring, compassion & courage your way. Along with the wish that the healing arms of time wrap themselves gently around your heart until some future, perhaps distant day all that remains is the love-always the love-and the precious, treasured memories. <3 <3 <3
I always look forward to your newsletter. Thanks for sharing such a personal, moving story in this recent one. I work in citizen engagement on climate change and often think of the analogy of a relay race, of taking up the baton when we can and passing it along when we must rest. Sending you care and warmth.
Thank you, Kimmy, this was beautifully written. The river will bring you someplace good, I'm sure. Was at camp last weekend and many folks were sending love your way.
Dear Kimberly, thank you for sharing your heart with us. It is a blessing to have loved ones to grieve when we lose them, even though the loss is excruciating. Your words and experience remind me to be gentle and tender with myself and with others. It is so easy to dwell in anger and outrage.
I’m grateful for your work and for your being exactly as you are.
Thanks for sharing, Kim. You are right to take care of yourself, particularly as you navigate such a disruptive event. We all need to recharge and rebalance at times, and this is yours now. You'll get through it and will grow from it, likely to a large extent by the foundations that you parents provided you. While you work through this change, others of us will keep working for the better future we all wish for current and future generations.
Deepest condolences. You're navigating terrible waters. I'm glad that you have support and love surrounding you. We've never met or interacted (other than me reading your newsletter) but we share an unfortunate understanding of this particular grief. I can remember being terribly angry that *everything* had changed, but the world just kept going on. Stepping back a little for a time as you're doing seems very wise.
Please accept a virtual casserole for dinner tonight (from the midwest, of course.) I am sorry for this deep loss and treasure your willingness to share with such self-awareness and honesty. Take care of yourself as you move through this process.
Hi Kim! A big hug from Romania! It's perfectly ok to take a break from climate change and focus on yourself. The burden of caring about the planet and the future should be shared by all, each one doing his part as much as he or she can at a certain time. Take care of yourself and one day you will be back. We'll be here.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, for your very real, very courageous, heartfelt story of where you are today. Your truth and honesty brought me back to look at our humanity. To know that not being okay, is okay. It reminded me of geese. When they are migrating, travelling great distances, they form a “V”, which is aerodynamically supportive of those flying behind the lead goose. The lead goose breaks the wind, so others can conserve their energy. When the lead goose gets tired, it falls back to the end of the “V” and another goose takes over. Meanwhile, all the geese are honking “keep going” “you can do it” “we’re all here to help.” Nature tells us that when we need to rest, others are there to support us, take over, or do what needs to be done. Take your time regrouping, Kimberly. Know that we are here for you. Sending healing thoughts to you.
I remember when my nephew died, and then years later my dad. I'd be in the drugstore or somewhere and look around at all the people thinking, "My loved one JUST DIED. How can you all go on like life is normal?" That's what I'm hearing in your brave essay.
And, thank you for the perspective, from one climate activist to this one. It's true; sometimes (often?) the climate emergency feels like just 'one more thing' for others.
And so may we pick up the baton when others can't, and trust that when it's our time to rest (like it is yours) that others will pick it up.
All the best to you and yours on the healing journey ahead. My parents are both memories now and that never becomes an easier weight to carry. Given that action to build a better human relationship with climate is implicitly the work of a lifetime, reserving energy for your self (two words intentionally) is vital. And let me know if there's anything I can do to help.
Here in this other hemisphere I’m sending love and compassion and space to be where you’re at. Your mom was, by all accounts, amazing. I can only imagine that she has left a massive hole in many lives — and it takes time to fill those holes, even with loose soil. I am looking forward to reports of your carrots. 🥕 Clara, my daughter, also planted a garden recently. Today she harvested her first food - Mizuna - a green Eric mixed into aloo gobi for our dinner. Hope you find some comfort in the small but revolutionary act of gardening. ❤️
Thank you for this Kim. It definitely resonates with how I felt when I lost my mom and then my dad, and how it STILL feels some days. But I think what I can say from further down the road is that there is a purpose in everything you are going through. It's an incredibly draining and profound transformation, but you do transform into something new, which oddly enough is still yourself. Maybe it has something to do with the "everybody else" who is more worried about their immediate family than climate change -- that was a great analytical leap -- but it also might not. It might be something that only you really understand and serves as a secret talisman when you end up going back to life as usual. All I would say is just be open to it being anything -- the process of grieving can be so terrible, but it is also a reliable guide to where you need to go in the end.
Dear Kim,
Thank you for sharing. I was just thinking of you today, wondering how you are. Your honest words made me cry. I lost my mother four years ago, totally unexpectedly, and I still miss her every day. Be very very kind to yourself. Sending you love and compassion and many warm thoughts.
Oh Elsa, I’m so sorry for your loss of your mom. Missing her everyday sounds right. ❤️💔❤️ Thank you for your kind words, I’ll do my best to follow them.
Kimberly,
Your post is the first thing I've chosen to read this morning, rather than world news, ads, appt reminders or the occasional personal note in my email feed. I'm so glad I did. I am deeply touched by & resonate to all that you so beautifully and openly shared about your grieving process. Thank you. I appreciate & admire your honesty and vulnerability. Especially around grief which is all-too-often navigated privately and not talked about publically. By doing so, you gave your audience a different kind of gift.
I support your steps to surrender, focus on self care, give yourself grace, & discover in time with limited or no expectations where the grief journey will take you. Meanwhile, I send caring, compassion & courage your way. Along with the wish that the healing arms of time wrap themselves gently around your heart until some future, perhaps distant day all that remains is the love-always the love-and the precious, treasured memories. <3 <3 <3
I always look forward to your newsletter. Thanks for sharing such a personal, moving story in this recent one. I work in citizen engagement on climate change and often think of the analogy of a relay race, of taking up the baton when we can and passing it along when we must rest. Sending you care and warmth.
Thank you, Kimmy, this was beautifully written. The river will bring you someplace good, I'm sure. Was at camp last weekend and many folks were sending love your way.
Dear Kimberly, thank you for sharing your heart with us. It is a blessing to have loved ones to grieve when we lose them, even though the loss is excruciating. Your words and experience remind me to be gentle and tender with myself and with others. It is so easy to dwell in anger and outrage.
I’m grateful for your work and for your being exactly as you are.
Warmly
Marianna
Thank you for your honesty Kim. I think your comments speak for many people.
Your mum will always be with you in some way because she is part of who you are today. You are not alone, even if it feels like that sometimes.
Thanks for sharing, Kim. You are right to take care of yourself, particularly as you navigate such a disruptive event. We all need to recharge and rebalance at times, and this is yours now. You'll get through it and will grow from it, likely to a large extent by the foundations that you parents provided you. While you work through this change, others of us will keep working for the better future we all wish for current and future generations.
Deepest condolences. You're navigating terrible waters. I'm glad that you have support and love surrounding you. We've never met or interacted (other than me reading your newsletter) but we share an unfortunate understanding of this particular grief. I can remember being terribly angry that *everything* had changed, but the world just kept going on. Stepping back a little for a time as you're doing seems very wise.
Please accept a virtual casserole for dinner tonight (from the midwest, of course.) I am sorry for this deep loss and treasure your willingness to share with such self-awareness and honesty. Take care of yourself as you move through this process.
Hi Kim! A big hug from Romania! It's perfectly ok to take a break from climate change and focus on yourself. The burden of caring about the planet and the future should be shared by all, each one doing his part as much as he or she can at a certain time. Take care of yourself and one day you will be back. We'll be here.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, for your very real, very courageous, heartfelt story of where you are today. Your truth and honesty brought me back to look at our humanity. To know that not being okay, is okay. It reminded me of geese. When they are migrating, travelling great distances, they form a “V”, which is aerodynamically supportive of those flying behind the lead goose. The lead goose breaks the wind, so others can conserve their energy. When the lead goose gets tired, it falls back to the end of the “V” and another goose takes over. Meanwhile, all the geese are honking “keep going” “you can do it” “we’re all here to help.” Nature tells us that when we need to rest, others are there to support us, take over, or do what needs to be done. Take your time regrouping, Kimberly. Know that we are here for you. Sending healing thoughts to you.
I'm sorry that you lost your mom.
I remember when my nephew died, and then years later my dad. I'd be in the drugstore or somewhere and look around at all the people thinking, "My loved one JUST DIED. How can you all go on like life is normal?" That's what I'm hearing in your brave essay.
And, thank you for the perspective, from one climate activist to this one. It's true; sometimes (often?) the climate emergency feels like just 'one more thing' for others.
And so may we pick up the baton when others can't, and trust that when it's our time to rest (like it is yours) that others will pick it up.
I've got your baton. And my own.
Blessings as you grieve and remember.
All the best to you and yours on the healing journey ahead. My parents are both memories now and that never becomes an easier weight to carry. Given that action to build a better human relationship with climate is implicitly the work of a lifetime, reserving energy for your self (two words intentionally) is vital. And let me know if there's anything I can do to help.
💚💚💚
Here in this other hemisphere I’m sending love and compassion and space to be where you’re at. Your mom was, by all accounts, amazing. I can only imagine that she has left a massive hole in many lives — and it takes time to fill those holes, even with loose soil. I am looking forward to reports of your carrots. 🥕 Clara, my daughter, also planted a garden recently. Today she harvested her first food - Mizuna - a green Eric mixed into aloo gobi for our dinner. Hope you find some comfort in the small but revolutionary act of gardening. ❤️
Thank you for this Kim. It definitely resonates with how I felt when I lost my mom and then my dad, and how it STILL feels some days. But I think what I can say from further down the road is that there is a purpose in everything you are going through. It's an incredibly draining and profound transformation, but you do transform into something new, which oddly enough is still yourself. Maybe it has something to do with the "everybody else" who is more worried about their immediate family than climate change -- that was a great analytical leap -- but it also might not. It might be something that only you really understand and serves as a secret talisman when you end up going back to life as usual. All I would say is just be open to it being anything -- the process of grieving can be so terrible, but it is also a reliable guide to where you need to go in the end.