“There’s an Empty Space Inside My Heart”

I am on  countdown and I was not aware of it until today.

On January 10th, 2012

 Daddy will have been dead 6 years.

Complicated Grief?


Delayed Grief?

Hell yes.

This is what is getting me by:


Dig these lyrics:

“There’s an empty space inside my heart

Where the weeds take root

And now I’ll set you free

I’ll set you free

There’s an empty space inside my heart

Where the weeds take root

Tonight I’ll set you free

I’ll set you free

Slowly we unfurl

As lotus flowers”

I am going to free that empty space inside my heart.

I am going to unfurl as Lotus Flowers.

No more weeds taking root.

I am on countdown:


and then; again,


February 20th.

My father in laws suicide.





I will unfurl as Lotus Flowers.

I will.

Something Big is going to change;


I am going to change.

Lotus Flowers.



Not so much; let’s be honest here, shall we?



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~ by Step On a Crack on January 5, 2012.

15 Responses to ““There’s an Empty Space Inside My Heart””

  1. Good lyrics, Jen. I so relate to music getting me through things. Or at least calms the savage beast within. Others will offer better wisdom than I have to give. One day at a time. I know it’s hard, The calendar is urging you to see all the loss today. A soul can’t do that. One day at a time. You know that phrase. You know it works. Last night in a group with our graduates I asked them what gave them power and one said peace. You aren’t feeling it but you can choose it. I’m sorry for sounding so bossy when all you need is grace. You have that….always grace to pour your hurts out and grace to cover each one.


  2. Oh love! Honesty. REFRESH ME! I get so much from your straight talk, and your willingness to share this HUGE grief. Oh honey, i see where you are! You are miraculously doing what you must! I hope … in you’re way. You are unique, and you are also resourceful. You got lottsa resources for love. Look no further. See me: See Debby … see KT, DB, HF, see us, and we will be there.

    GROUP HUG? Too lame, but it worked for this crumpled piece o paper 😉

    Love, MEL


  3. Jen, if I could hold you like a little child and smooth your hair and say, “There, there, now . . . it’ll be all right, Dear,” while you cry . . . neither of us exactly sure how it would happen, but trusting it would . . .

    There is peace. It is possible. It will come.


    • Kathy,

      I cried when I read this. I would love that. Your children are very very lucky. I hope they know how blessed they are!

      Love to you my dear friend and mentor mom. Jen


      • The 40-yr.-old son is beginning to show thankfulness and it does bless me to realize he realizes the true purpose of a mom–someone to thank someday. 😉
        And, a couple of my daughters-in-law seem really connected in a lovely way.
        The rest take Mom for granted, which I am, really, in my mind, a “granted” person. Always.
        I love them and they are so used to breathing that air, they don’t realize not every mom goes that route.
        They do know whom to call, though, in a pinch. HA!


      • Dear Kathy,

        AHH! You ARE a good Mom! It seems that often the kids who fly away with wings spread (their Mothers love beneath their wings…) are the kids who were raised with Love and Boundaries and in Safety.

        I love this: ‘…which I am, really, in my mind, a “granted” person’

        YOU are. I adore you. You have touched my life in ways I can not yet begin to understand and in ways which get me through the rough spots. I guess I call you in a pinch too ehh? Call me OK if you need a shoulder or some Wing Lift…

        Love, Jen


      • Sure. We shall rely on, cry on, and call on each other whenever we please. We all have roots in the same pain-soil, so why not vine together onto the same trellis? 😉


      • Dear Kathy,


        ‘We all have roots in the same pain-soil, so why not vine together onto the same trellis?’ THIS IS A POEM!

        How beautiful! Pain-soil oh. HOW I love this!!! XO my Friend… Jen


  4. GROUP HUG!!! You said it Mel. We are with you in spirit, Jen. This is not a choice. You will do it. We will pray you through it, truly.


  5. I said to a friend, his death (suicide) was not the most important thing in her father’s life. She found that thought helpful, so I tentatively offer it to you. I hope it will help. If not complete peace, yet, I wish you an increase of peace.


    • Oh. My.

      Thank you. It is easy to forget or get confused. My family was there when he killed himself and it DOES tend to take over all the very good things he did and all the very warm loving times we had together.

      That is actually a VERY good thing to say to a person living with a suicide. That should be in the books. Really, very wise and thoughtful.

      Thank you for this and for stopping by.

      Peace, jen


  6. “This is what is getting me by:


    I love this.

    Music has been my grieving touchstone for a long while. Special songs “popping” to mind, or popping on the iPod in Shuffle mode, giving meaning when things feel impossible. The songs are a crumb to ingest when you feel so hungry for meaning. Sometimes, however, these days, certain songs are actually triggers for my grieving and intensity of times past. Certain songs are tricky for me. I guess it is like this: imagine yourself 5 years from now, and this Radiohead song pops up in Shuffle mode on the iPod out of nowhere, and suddenly you are back in the grief (the stuff you are experiencing now) just because the song had such meaning to you in this grieving time. Yeah, tricky.

    Yet, I could not have made it without those songs. One that just came to mind was Red Hot Chili Peppers “My Friends.” That one, and their song “Snow.” Just thinking about them makes me a little melancholy. Yet I love them so, even still. (But they make me want to smoke cigarettes — cloves, especially, haha!! 😉 And maybe paint my fingernails black. :D)

    The music makes it bearable somehow. Keep tuning in. There is a message there, for sure.


  7. Dearest Jen – Know that we are all enfolding you in our hearts and in our prayers. I know sometimes that isn’t enough. I do know.
    Have you ever been caught in the ocean’s undertow? I have, too many times One minute you’re riding the waves and the next you’re somersaulting under water. When you finally break free of it’s grip, you’re left gasping for air and for life and too far from land.
    Grief is like that. You can be OK, more or less, and then it grabs your ankles and drags you under. When you come up, your a long way from shore.
    When you’re out of reach, grab onto us like a life ring. Let us pull you back in and carry you for a while. It’s what friends do. God supplies the grace. We’ll toss the rope.


  8. One of the difficulties of grieving and living at the same time is the “pile up” of loss upon loss, and the combined weight of all those grieving spots. We’re at risk in those moments of seeing ourselves as weak, or crazy, or both. In reality we’re faltering under the weight of complicated grief. Sometimes we need to just sit and allow parts of the weight to fall to the ground, knowing that after a time we can stand and begin to walk again. You are strong, but the weight is heavy. You are willing, but the night is dark. You may not be able to see it, but you are not alone. Peace. Paulann


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