Names by the Sea

05/27/2026

Love this post. Maybe I will put a wind phone in my garden, or take one to the beach the next time I go.

I’ve never seen one of these before. A wind phone. Si King shared it on Instagram the other day.

I think it might be a Japanese idea originally where there’s a disconnected phone in a garden.

People go there to talk to the people they’ve lost. Not because anyone answers or because it “fixes” grief.

Just because sometimes love needs somewhere to go. I think that’s beautiful.

We spend so much time pretending we’re fine, moving on, staying busy, “being strong”

Meanwhile, a little old rotary phone in the wind is quietly reminding people that missing someone is normal. That continuing the conversation is normal.

Love it x

04/26/2026

Watching kites at the beach. There wasn't a tree, but a bench, which I was grateful for.

May your cares feel lighter today and your joys brighter.

02/21/2026

I hope you find some gentleness and maybe, maybe, maybe a moment of rest today from all that is heavy and persistent.

I miss the ocean. I miss the sea. I do not know when I will be back and that eats at me, a little. I long to look at the waves and feel the breeze and curl my toes in the sand.

You’ll walk past someone who’s grieving today; someone who is carrying the ghost of love.

And the ghost of love is heavy: it makes the easy things difficult, and the difficult things unbearable. It weighs on every breath, every step and every turn that we take. It can make the every-day exhausting.

For some people, the ghost is a new acquaintance, and they carry it on their shoulders.
Unknown and unfamiliar, it is finding its place. Figuring out how to settle here forever.

For some it is an old friend, and they carry it in their arms.
It’s almost pleasant and overly-familiar, but it can still grow heavy; and that’s when it starts to ache.

And for some, it has become a part of who they are.
It walks beside them; love hand-in-hand with grief.

You’ll walk past someone who’s grieving today; someone weighed down by an invisible heaviness that they carry.

It’s new and it’s old,
and then it’s old that becomes new all over again in a heartbeat.

Because, no matter how long they have known it,
that is truly where they carry it.

Not on their shoulders.
Not in their arms.

But always,
always
in their heart.

*****

Becky Hemsley 2024
Beautiful artwork by Laura Makabresku

This poem is from my most recent grief and loss collection, I Missed You Quietly Today: https://amzn.to/46e4L0Y
(affiliate link)

01/02/2026

A crossover with Peas for Peace, my other page. Sometime grief makes it hard to sleep. You are not alone in the wee hours. I see you. 🫂💙🌊

12/20/2025

My thoughts are with you if you're having a blue Christmas 💙.

12/07/2025

Hello fellow namers!

I am thinking of doing something to hold space for Blue Christmas. 💙💙

Blue Christmas is a moment to pause during the holidays for grief and loss and sadness.

Part of the ceremony includes naming our losses or loved ones we are grieving.

What else would y'all like to include?

10/27/2025

It's Monday. Hoping you can give yourself a little extra grace today and a slower start somewhere.

10/11/2025

Another grief artist. ❤️💔❤️ And wow, salt!!

10/10/2025

Grief is here, there, and everywhere sometimes. How are y'all feeling today?

I am hopeful as I investigate a new place today! Still haven't found a sandy enough beach for Names by the... Lake?

09/29/2025

A crossover post with my other page, Peas for Peace.