Your Path Home with Manners

09/16/2025

Forgiveness is one of the hardest things to do but it is so freeing.

Forgiveness is not about excusing, forgetting, or pretending that something never happened. It’s about choosing to set yourself free. The past has already played out, we can’t call a do-over, we can’t take words or actions back. What we can do is release the heaviness we have been carrying, the weight that clouds our view, hardens our edges, and influences the way we show up in life.

To forgive is to say, “I will no longer carry this with me.” If it’s someone else’s words or actions that hurt you, forgiveness says, “This is yours to hold, not mine.” If it’s something you have said or done, forgiveness allows you to acknowledge, “I am sorry, and I will do better moving forward.” In both directions, forgiveness is not about condoning, it is about unburdening, releasing, letting go, and freeing yourself.

As we move through life, and especially as we consider the time we have left, forgiveness becomes an act of love, both for ourselves and for others. We don’t want to arrive at the end still clutching old regrets, grudges, or mistakes. We want to arrive with open hands, open hearts, and space for peace. Life was meant for living, loving, learning, and evolving, not for dragging behind years of hurt that keeps us tethered to what cannot be changed.

Give yourself permission to let go. You deserve the lightness that comes with it.

xo
Gabby

You might be interested in my ritual & ceremony class that focuses on forgiveness of self and others, learn more here:
https://www.thehospiceheart.net/ritual-and-ceremony

You can find this blog here:
https://www.thehospiceheart.net/post/forgiveness

09/16/2025

This can be hard to do especially nowadays, but try to stay soft.

“Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness.”
― Iain S. Thomas

Image: S Jade Studio

09/16/2025

Angels are all around us! 😇

There are angels all around us,
You may not yet realise,
But they come in many shapes and forms,
And there is such kindness in their eyes.

They have the brightest smiles,
And gentle words, when your heart needs love,
They see who needs their comforting touch,
They are gifts sent to us, from above.

They walk with faith and understanding,
They may pass you, but you wouldn't know,
They are always here among us,
In places we may fear to go.

Maybe you have come across one?
You might have felt an inexplicable touch,
Or a whisper carried on the breeze,
When you needed assurance, as such.

So, don't ever doubt their existence,
Have faith and they will appear,
Not always in the form that's expected,
But goodness is always near ...

🖋️ C.E. Coombes. 🎨 Nino Chakvedatze

Serendipity Corner 🪽

09/14/2025

Talk about the elephant in the room.

Grief changes every room you walk into.

There’s this unspoken heaviness that follows you—an elephant that everyone sees but no one wants to acknowledge. They shift uncomfortably, clear their throat, force a smile, and move the conversation somewhere “lighter.”

But you feel it.
Every second.
The weight pressing down, the silence screaming at you louder than words ever could.

You want to talk about them.
You want to say their name.
You want to tell the story about the way they always made you laugh, or the little quirks that made them who they were. You want the world to remember them as more than a past tense.

But most people don’t ask.
They’re afraid of “reminding you.” Afraid of saying the wrong thing. Afraid of their own discomfort more than they are concerned about your pain.

The truth?
You don’t need reminding.
You wake up every day and remember.
You fall asleep every night and remember.
There is no forgetting.

What hurts isn’t talking about them—
it’s when no one else does.
It’s when the people around you pretend the elephant isn’t there, as if silence can erase the fact that someone you love is missing.

Ignoring it doesn’t soften the loss.
It just makes you feel more alone inside of it.

What helps is simple:
Say their name.
Ask about them.
Let me cry. Let me laugh. Let me tell you about the way they lived, not just the way they died.

Because grief doesn’t disappear when it’s ignored.
It doesn’t get smaller because no one talks about it.
It sits in the room, in every conversation, in every moment—until someone is brave enough to acknowledge it.

And when that happens?
The elephant shrinks, just a little.
The room gets lighter, just enough to breathe.
And for a moment, I don’t feel so alone in carrying this weight.

09/04/2025

To all the strong women out there! ❤️

One thing about a strong woman… is that she can go through hell and back, and you’d never know unless she tells you. She’ll show up with a smile, carry herself with grace, laugh like she hasn’t cried herself to sleep, and handle her business like she’s not battling a war in silence. She’s mastered the art of survival. She doesn’t break down in front of just anyone. She doesn’t wear her pain on her sleeve. She carries it in her chest, quietly, because she’s learned that not everyone deserves access to her scars.
You won’t see her struggle unless she wants you to. You won’t hear her story unless she trusts you enough to let you in. She’s not emotionless... she’s just exhausted from all the times she let her guard down and ended up with more wounds than healing. So now she moves carefully. Not bitter, just wiser. Not cold, just guarded. She’s the kind of woman who picks herself up, wipes her tears, and keeps going like the world hasn’t thrown its worst at her.
Because she’s been through things that would’ve broken a weaker spirit. She’s loved people who never loved her back. She’s given her all to those who left her empty. She’s trusted the wrong ones. She’s stayed when she should’ve left. She’s believed when she had every reason not to. And still... she kept her heart intact. Still, she loves deeply. Still, she shows up for others. Still, she pushes forward even when she’s tired to her soul.
That’s the thing about a strong woman....she’s not strong because life has been easy. She’s strong because it hasn’t been. She’s strong because she had no other choice. Because breaking wasn’t an option. Because even on the days she felt like crumbling, she kept going for everyone depending on her... including herself.
So when you meet a woman like that, honor her. Don’t take her strength for granted. Don’t assume her silence means she’s okay. Don’t mistake her independence for a lack of need. She carries pain like a secret, but it doesn't mean she doesn’t feel it. She just knows how to keep moving through it, because life taught her early that no one was coming to save her.
She’s quiet about her storms... but don’t ever doubt she’s weathered them.
And if you ever get close enough for her to tell you her story, know that she didn’t choose you by accident. She chose you because, finally, she felt safe enough to be seen.
That’s rare. Don’t ruin it.

Via https://www.facebook.com/share/1BFS3xWuvz/?mibextid=wwXIfr

09/02/2025

So important!

08/31/2025

So true.

I wish more people understood that grief isn’t just being sad and crying.
Grief is being angry, being numb, being broken, and being everything in-between
Grief is so different for everyone and you just have to go thru the motions and roll with the punches.
When you’re grieving the loss of someone you grieve for what was and what will never be, grief also takes a big toll on your mental and physical health.
Grief is LOVE with nowhere to go.
Grief is trying to remind yourself that “this too shall pass”
Grief is forcing yourself out of bed to shower and eat.
Greif is isolating yourself
Grief is surrounding yourself with people and things to distract your brain from reality
Grief is ugly and rough, so if you cannot understand why people grieve so hard for so long and so deep consider yourself lucky to not understand.

08/26/2025

I love this. I get this. ❤️

There’s a version of me that existed when they were still alive.
I can still picture her—laughing more freely, moving through life with a kind of ease she didn’t even realize she had.
She didn’t know how fragile everything really was.
She didn’t know that one phone call, one diagnosis, one final breath could change her forever.

I’m not her anymore.
But I haven’t quite figured out who I am now, either.

And that’s the gap.

That strange, quiet space between who I used to be and who I’m becoming.
It’s filled with memories I can’t let go of and questions I don’t know how to answer.
I’m living in the in-between—still tethered to the past, but slowly learning how to breathe in the present.
Grief has carved out pieces of me I didn’t even know existed.

Some days I feel lost in it.
Other days I catch small glimpses of the new version of me—wiser, softer, stronger in ways I never asked to be.
But mostly, I just miss them.
And I miss the me I was when they were still here.

So if you’re here too, trying to make sense of this version of yourself that doesn’t quite fit yet—
I see you.
This gap isn’t a failure.
It’s the sacred space where healing begins.
Where identity shifts.
Where love and loss coexist.

You’re not broken.
You’re becoming.

And even in the gap, you are never alone.