A hug for my soul

A journey of grieving and healing after child loss

London Pride


In London. In a ‘I gotta see it again before our London pride is forever gone’ state of mind.

Strolling around the old hood, listening to the same music.

The old pub is the same busy with grumpy lads and apologetic ‘kitchen having a nightmare’ waitress. Uber drivers have a new sense of Brexit humor and wisdom.

And I think of walls. Walls nations build to visualize differences and an unsatisfied ego. Walls we build inside crying for healing and possibilities. They don’t segregate people or love. They segregate the earthly self and the higher self, yet what everyone needs is an inward hug.

A hug of surrender. A hug of acceptance. Surrender to what is beyond your control. Acceptance of when something tragic happens, like losing a baby, it is a calling to expand with imperfection, pain and grace.

When you allow yourself to be hurt and feel defeated a little, there’s a little life in there.

When you start to live a little, there’s life everywhere.

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