In eight years of writing these articles, I don’t think I’ve ever paused simply to thank you all for reading them. I’m happy to have a chance to do that.
Hello dear readers,
I’ve taken the past week to rest after returning from my dad’s memorial service. I had a number of tasks to take care of. Still, I managed to take extra time to sleep, to read, and to move more slowly than usual.
The trip to Indiana for the service would have been tiring in itself. On top of that, my mom ended up in the hospital for nine days. She was discharged just 48 hours before the service. With her typical tenacity, she managed to recover enough to attend not only the service itself, but the family gatherings before and after it.
Mom is on the mend now. Still, it was scary. She had internal bleeding, which can rapidly become life-threatening for someone who is on blood thinners. The hospital was alarmingly short-staffed, and we clearly needed to be there to advocate for Mom. My brother and I took over for my sister during the final days of that hospital stint. (My other brother stayed for the past week, setting up support systems for my mom, who is on her own for the first time in 66 years.)
Why am I describing all this? Because I was struck to notice that even in the midst of this intensity, I was actively wondering how I might write about the experience in a way that would be useful to you.
Writing for you is a gift to me
In particular, I thought about resilience. Resilience is crucial for us as highly sensitive people. I’m still percolating on that. In the meantime, I decided to take this opportunity to thank each of you for reading this newsletter. Some of you have read these articles since I began writing in 2015. Others have just arrived. All of you give me a reason to write.
Through this writing, I have come to know who I am, what I stand for, and how to express more clearly the key concepts underpinning a sustainable life for HSPs. In short, this opportunity to write for you helps me contribute in a deeply meaningful way. Thank you for this gift.
I also want to thank you for the many kind and caring messages I received following the post about my dad’s death. I always appreciate hearing from and learning from you, but those notes were particularly welcome: I was keenly needing comfort.
I know, too, that for every person who wrote, there were a dozen others who were thinking kind thoughts but (like me this week) did not have time or energy to “put pen to paper.” Thanks to all of you as well.
I send all my best, with much gratitude to you all. Thank you for reading.
Photo © 2023 Emily Agnew
It’s very difficult to go through the loss of a parent. I’m so glad you were able to support your mom through this challenging time, Emily, and I hope you were able to look after yourself, as well. What a lovely blog post today!
Thank you Daphne. My whole experience of writing is so much better because of your help and wisdom. I did my best to take care of myself but sometimes there is so much, even one’s best isn’t quite enough. I’m taking extra time to rest and will continue to do so over the coming weeks.
Again, my condolences at the passing of your father.
I have been through somewhat of a similar experience, but not as intensely. My father and his wife have been quite frail for 2 years. She passed away during surgery in January and he landed in a Long Term Care Living Situation with broken bones after a fall about 3 months before she passed away.
Thank you for thanking us readers!
I love the term ‘percolating on that’…..lovely image. Plus, the smell of coffee purcolating brings a wonderful aroma to the image. I don’t drink coffee as an HSP, but I used to work in a Cafe and one of my most favorite parts of the day was to show up to work when it was still dark out and smell the coffee purcolating…ready for the breakfast patrons.
Thank you Suzanne. That sounds really hard for your dad to lose his wife then to have to move into long term care soon after. Getting old is not easy.