Tumgik
catchawishing-star · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Monet's pond, Gifu, Japan / 異世界ひとり旅 ~Deep spot Japan~ ♡
18K notes · View notes
catchawishing-star · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media
been traveling...
23K notes · View notes
catchawishing-star · 1 month
Text
...and then grief returns to the familiar routine -- the loss, and the disbelief; the fear at those six words which are I will not see him again.
Susan Fletcher, The Silver Dark Sea
5 notes · View notes
catchawishing-star · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
tatyana alanis
5K notes · View notes
catchawishing-star · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
sea, swallow me
81K notes · View notes
catchawishing-star · 2 months
Photo
Tumblr media
Fra Akerselven (The Akerselven River in the Snow) by Frits Thaulow (Norwegian, 1847–1906)
702 notes · View notes
catchawishing-star · 2 months
Text
The woman who lost her mother sends me a message. She says that life growing is not the same as forgetting and she sent me a picture to prove it. A little girl in the arms of a mother who lost her mother. Her middle name is my mother's first, she tells me.
jesseisjolly (tiktok)
1 note · View note
catchawishing-star · 2 months
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
39K notes · View notes
catchawishing-star · 2 months
Photo
Tumblr media
artist: holly warburton
7K notes · View notes
catchawishing-star · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
33K notes · View notes
catchawishing-star · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
14K notes · View notes
catchawishing-star · 3 months
Text
Grief is such a lonely thing. There is no one in it with you -- others may grieve for the same soul, but they do not grieve exactly for what you also grieve. No-one has lost precisely what you have lost. Not exactly, never exactly. We are in it alone.
Susan Fletcher, The Silver Dark Sea
8 notes · View notes
catchawishing-star · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
To The Substitute Art Teacher - Jordan Bolton
208K notes · View notes
catchawishing-star · 4 months
Text
But hate is part of grief, Maggie knows that now. It is as strong and defined, in grief, as shock is or that deep, unbearable space which opens up inside us, a cave we walk into with our arms apart and we shout where have you gone? Where have you gone? They who were so real -- who were warm-bodied, noisy, brimming with life and memory and future plans. How could they be over? We do not understand it, and then the understanding starts to take root and show itself and we realise that we will never see them again, never watch how they move or hear new words from their mouths. And then the anger comes in.
Susan Fletcher, The Silver Dark Sea
6 notes · View notes
catchawishing-star · 4 months
Text
She learnt this: that grief changes more than you ever thought it could. All certainty goes away. All strong things stop being strong.
Susan Fletcher, The Silver Dark Sea
11 notes · View notes
catchawishing-star · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
17K notes · View notes
catchawishing-star · 4 months
Text
Who told her the grief would lessen? Grief does not lessen; it changes, and perhaps she has changed so that she can endure it better. But the grief does not grow less. She misses him beyond words. She will never have the words for how much she misses him.
Susan Fletcher, The Silver Dark Sea
13 notes · View notes