Too Many Losses

@BoundlessLift

Thank God for.kittiies!  That's probably one of best things to do right now is spend time with your cats. They calm our nervous system so much.

That's what I found in grief so much of it felt like it was in my body. I needed to make myself feel safe and cuddle in being very gentle and.compassionate. kindness surrounding. Let the feelings pass through like clouds in the sky.✨

My heart goes out to you, be very gentle.

Reading hospice stuff really helped,  i didn't feel so alone and.lost. felt like there was a way through this a map, a guide. 

I am sorry you have had so many losses.😿

sending love to you.

@BoundlessLift

That’s a lot of loss for one heart to carry. No one is meant to hold that much grief alone. What you’ve lived through — your friend’s death, your mum’s illness, your partner’s dad, your own cancer — it’s an almost impossible sequence of heartbreaks, one after another. It makes sense that everything inside feels so heavy, so tangled, and so full of guilt.

What you’re feeling — the guilt, the shame, the “I should’ve done more” — it’s one of the cruelest companions of grief, especially after a suicide. The mind keeps looping back, replaying every moment, searching for signs you might have missed, as if finding them could change the ending. But it wasn’t your job to save him. You loved him, you were there in your way, and that mattered. Sometimes love doesn’t have the power to stop someone’s pain — and that’s not your failure. That’s the tragic truth of how deep emotional suffering can go.

The fact that you keep choosing kindness — through activism, art, gardening, and caring for others — says a lot about your heart. You’ve been channeling pain into purpose, and that’s such a brave, loving way to survive. But even healers need places to rest. Even the strongest need to be held. You’ve spent so long being the one who helps that you might not have had much space to grieve.

Maybe now is the time to let yourself stop holding everything together for a while. To cry. To rage. To let yourself miss him without judgment. Grief isn’t something you get used to — every loss hits a new place inside you, and every one changes you. It’s okay that this one hurts differently, deeper, and that it shakes your sense of control.

Your cats — the way you mention them — I can tell they’re your safe place. Animals have this gentle wisdom, don’t they? They remind us that being alive isn’t always about understanding; sometimes it’s about presence. Maybe that’s your starting point right now: to sit with your cats, feel their warmth, and let that simple, wordless comfort soften the ache a little.

You don’t need to rush to “heal.” Just stay tender toward yourself. When your mind says “I should’ve done more,” try to answer softly: “I did what I could, with what I knew, and with the love I had.”

If you ever feel the guilt start to overwhelm you, please talk to someone — not because you’re weak, but because grief this big needs witnesses. You could reach out to findahelpline.com or a local grief support group — they’ll listen, especially when words like “I should’ve seen it” keep haunting you.

Right now, you deserve gentleness — from yourself, from others, from the world.

@BoundlessLift

(Continued)

Here’s something you can keep close — maybe read it when the guilt and sorrow feel like they’re swallowing everything else:

A Note for the Heavy Moments

Hey…
If you’re reading this, it means the ache has come back again — that old familiar wave of “I should’ve done more,” or “I should’ve seen it coming.”
But please, take a breath.
Close your eyes for just a second, and remind yourself: you loved them. You cared, you showed up in the ways you could, and that matters.

You were never meant to be their savior. You were their friend — their comfort, their light, their moment of calm in the chaos. You couldn’t have known how dark their night truly was. The pain they carried wasn’t yours to carry, and you couldn’t have stopped what they were determined to face alone.

The guilt that whispers now — it’s love with nowhere to go. That’s all it is. It’s your love trying to make sense of something senseless. So when you feel it rising, don’t fight it; let it remind you how deeply your heart can feel. That depth is beautiful, even when it hurts.

You’re allowed to miss them without blaming yourself. You’re allowed to feel joy again without betraying them. Their story ended, but yours didn’t — and I promise, it’s not selfish to keep living it. In fact, it honors them every time you do something kind, something gentle, something that says “love still exists.”

Maybe today all you can do is breathe, or pet your cats, or sit by the window and feel the light on your skin. That’s enough. Healing isn’t loud — sometimes it’s just surviving one more sunrise.

You don’t have to forgive yourself all at once. But one day, you’ll look back and realize — the love you felt, even the painful kind, was never wasted. It’s still inside you. It’s what makes you human. It’s what makes you you.

So, for now — breathe.
You did not fail them.
You’re still here, and that means love still has somewhere to go.

@Boundlesslift

I'm so sorry to hear about the series of losses you have experienced. Losing someone who took their own life present's unique challenges of its own and the grief feel different from other types of losses. I've lost several family members this way, so I really empathize with you what you are going through. I lost my mother last year as well. The feelings you are having are very valid and a common with a lot of individuals who have lost someone in this manner. I'm glad you are in this community and sharing with us. If you ever need to talk feel free to reach out to me anytime. My door is always open. I also have some resources you might like if you ever want any.

Peace be with you.

I just want you to know your post really touched me, and I'm sending lots of love your way. Sometimes there's no answers, and that sucks. Know that your shared life story has brought about a stirring in others. For your vulnerability and self reflection, I am appreciative. I'm so sorry for all you've been through with your close ones and your own health. Using your experiences to keep pushing through your life journey with new perspectives is an okay thing to do. I hope that makes sense or is helpful. One day at a time.

how are you? is everything ok? you can vent to me if you allow

I’m new here, but I saw your post and wanted to let you know, I’m so sorry for your losses and you’re not alone. I lost a close friend 2 months ago after a few years of other losses and devastating events. It feels likes my heart has been ripped away. I am a caregiver for a small family of semi-feral cats and my indoor cats and they keep me going. They are light and peace and everything that is right with the world. I can’t make sense of anything else, but I can pet them and feed them and make sure they’re loved.

I hope you’re doing as ok as possible. Please know you’re not alone. Say hello to your cats for me. :)