“I wanted it to be true.” ~ This brought tears to my eyes.
And your description of how the idea gradually landed in your Consciousness, initially as a thought...
"My cells didn’t know what to do with it; they needed time and the slow metabolism of seasons to comprehend and assimilate."
This is so intriguing... totally in sync. with your symptoms of dizziness... gradually finding new ground, a new identity. Thank you so much for sharing 💖🙏
I tear up every time I tell that part of the story too. Such a profound, lasting love a family can have for their lost brother/son.
Originally I had the title of this chapter "cellular pace" but it felt too academic for my final chapter so I changed it. I'm so glad you picked up the essence of what I was trying to convey... it was quite remarkable to feel in that moment how our bodies have their own timing. It was such a simple moment but one I will never forget— a visceral landing. Intriguing indeed and one I will be reflecting on for the rest of my days!
My found father’s sister told me to go back under the rock from which I came! When I was about 12. 🤦🏼♀️
I love your uncle because of those words he said alone. Thanks for bringing us along this story and journey with you. It’s been a pleasure and a blessing.
"Your devoted intimacy with life is more than a hubcap. Inscribed on page or strummed through fingers or witnessed with gentle attention, your written, spoken and sung truth didn’t roll into a ditch but instead landed in me; a lasting song that reminded and awakened my own. Now, we sing it together."
The letter to Charlie!!! 😭
"My great aunt Lois (who insists I call her grandma) and her gentle, teary offering, “What a blessing to experience you at the end of my life.” More tears. The tenderness and love that you have been welcomed with through Charlie's family. What a gift he left for all of you.
"Dave’s question to Rich, “What was your first thought after you read Kimberly’s initial outreach?” And my uncle’s reaching hand across a pitcher of margaritas to grab mine in response, “I wanted it to be true."
Crying the biggest, fattest tears. This is the most beautiful epilogue. And then you just really bring it home making me sob even more...
"unfolding
I understand
unholding
i a m
not the dancer
but the stage
less the word
more the page"
I AM ONCE AGAIN IN A GLASS CASE OF EMOTION. I knew this was coming. I knew that your body and your mind would finally embrace the truth of your life with all of the other truths that demanded to exist all at once. I just didn't know how wonderfully wrecked I would be when I finally read the words. Your poor but incredible body. Such cataclysmic change all at once. The ultimate shift in identity and reality. As you so often do, you have replaced words with pure emotion and I am reveling in the afterglow of experiencing a life changing story with the most achingly beautiful/satisfying ending. Truly remarkable, Kimberly. It has been my honor to read your memoir. What an incredible piece of art you have created. Charlie is so wildly proud.
Jenovia, I've read your comment a half dozen times now, each time prepared to reply. But your words just send me into a spasm of joyous shivers and childlike smiles, my brain short-circuiting on humbled, awe-full, delight. The way you've navigated my story, one foot in the human realm with a box of kleenex nearby, another in some ancient understanding of how life works, how love prevails, how reality is so much more than what meets the eye. Even during chapters of abysmal loss and insecurity you held on and nodded with sage-like calm, as if you already knew the ending. Thank you thank you thank you, you freaking gorgeous human.
Thank YOU. I’ve never cried so much and so hard at a memoir. Cried at both the wondrous ways life can lift us up and at the devastating blows that cast us down. This has been one of my favorite reads of my life. 🥹❤️🔥
Tears are flowing after this chapter. I’d heard Rich’s comment before, but had not heard what Aunt Lois said to you. Beautiful words to cherish. I’ll tell you when I knew you were a Brauer. When my mom shared the email you had written to Rich and I saw a picture of you, I just KNEW that you were a part of our family. You resemble Chuck in body, mind and spirit. I’m forever grateful that you had the courage to reach out to our family!
Jen! How dear to feel your presence over here at the end of a long year of sharing. I know you've been reading along privately but I'm sure some of my readers over here will be delighted to feel you in this very sweet embrace. If this story offered even a glimmer of the unusually profound and generous love the Brauer's all embody, then I will die a happy human. Your mom, Janet, Rich, all the cousins, the nieces, nephews, the 2nd cousins, and on and on and on...there is a purity of heart in this family that I can only compare to the feeling I get every time spring returns and color bursts forth from the ground, like an eternal love between the sun and the earth. You are all THE gift of my lifetime.
Sjoe... 🥹 'I am a Brauer' - I literally felt that in MY cells for you ❤️ I know that visceral feeling of landing in yourself, your sense of self coming home, to ground, to heart. Both a surrender and a reunion. It's, well, you expressed it so beautifully. I don't think we appreciate the felt sense and importance of our identities. Or our belongingness. My world is a richer place with your story 🙏 I am also admiring of you and Dave. To remain in relationship when our physical and mental health spirals is a great test, one that not everyone makes it through. Thank you again for sharing and inspiring, I may just have to read it all again! ❤️❤️
Awww, dear Micah. I've so loved sharing this story with you. Even though I don't know your story, I could feel how themes would pull on you as you reflected on chapters. I'm beyond grateful for your steadfast enthusiasm and encouragement; I only hope I can offer you the same someday if you ever decide to share your own life's unfolding.
It's such a pleasure - more than happy to be your cheerleader! I just can't do the splits midair 😂 And yes there have been many resonant themes for me, I found your story when I most needed it ❤️ thank you for that offering...I have indeed been writing my own story. It mostly lives between my therapist(s) and I but they're not likely to let me get away with never sharing it haha 🥹 it's not quite finished yet though, not that we're ever really done, but this particular story is not over yet... But when it is, and it's time to share, it would be a privilege to have you there 😉
Consider me a fellow traveler when you do. And happy to connect and offer any tips for the road if you ever need someone to bounce ideas off of or just need to feel less alone as you proceed. x
I really appreciate that 🤗🤗 right now I'm navigating the workload of the first semester of a social sciences degree, so I'm unsure of when my story will enter the real world... But I feel like we should definitely connect over a zoom call or something, if you're keen 😊
Like the last commentator said, “it’s a privilege to read the words you share”. I continue to be stunned by the beauty and profundity of your writing! You obviously have a gift for putting your thots into words. One final thot however: you are part Warner, part Brauer…and part Larson. And ALL your yourself! A unique and exquisite creation indeed.
Oh my gosh! I thought I had Larson in there and then I just saw I didn't! What a silly oversight. Just added it in. ;) Sorry Larson lineage! You are infinitely more a part of me than the Warner lineage! ::)
My fingers turn over the last page. The cover, gently closed.
Your great aunt Lois;
“What a blessing to experience you at the end of my life.”
Your uncle Rich;
“I wanted it to be true.”
They both say; You, are cherished. You, are that piece of Charlie they never expected to find. Many of us can spend a lifetime with our biological families. Very few of us have ever felt that kind of love.
In your memoir, Charlie’s poetry allows the reader a certain sense of him. How he viewed the world around him and his place within it , or the place he was still searching for. Oh , I don’t begin to claim I know him. I just, feel him.
I do believe he would have loved spending time at your beautiful homestead. Maybe he would have found peace there. He might have pressed his bare feet deep into the soil, establishing his own roots of contentment.
I will go so far as to say, he would have been so proud of you. They both would.
This is not a book I will read again. I won’t have to. It will stay with me.
Tears…
( And another four arms hug. Six , to be accurate).
"You, are that piece of Charlie they never expected to find." This just gave me chills Lor. I think anyone who loses a loved one longs for but never expects some sort of "return" and especially decades later! I think it's extra special that I happen to look and embody so many of his qualities and that he left a gazillion bread crumbs behind in the form of footage, poetry, journals and song so I, too, can feel how much he lives inside me.
It's funny to say, but when some of you started referring to him as Charlie many many chapters ago, it at first startled me. Like another moment where my cells at first had to catch up and say "Oh he's real! Now other people are referring to him as well!" It was very healing for me to have this experience, and to feel all your beautiful arms reaching out to not just me, but to the both of us.
Several days ago I wrote: "Sometimes I read a thing and then need to let the tea steep for a few days before pouring. " You replied: "...re my memoir, never a need to reply... this Sunday I post the epilogue, which is really more of "the end" anyway. So let those two simmer together before you pour your tea. :)." So, I've been sitting your counsel.
Lost a dear friend a few years back whom I'd known and adored since high school. Larry never married, never had any kids that he knew of. The most naturally gifted musician I've known, playing mandolin, guitar, fiddle, banjo, hammered dulcimer, autoharp, Uilleann pipes and bagpipes, harmonica, accordion, concertina, pipe organ, recorder and clarinet. He made custom reeds for other pipers all over the world from materials he gathered in the wilds of the mountains and built two of his own cabins and ultimately several houses.
He reminded me in a hundred ways of the man you've introduced us to, the magical being you've come to know as your dad. Exquisitely handsome. Similar free spirit, deep spiritual wisdom and sense of magic and adventure that left the folks that loved him both mystified and full of wonder.
So I couldn't seem to help it, I kept imaging Larry, as your tale unfolded, because I know that face, those eyes and at least the edges of that once here heart. How profoundly enchanted he'd have been to meet someone like you, how grateful, how awed. I can see the way his breath would catch, how humbled he'd have been, how honored.
You do your father proud, Kimberly by so profoundly doing the work of making yourself proud. By becoming a teachable warrior princess. And each time his family has opened their hearts a little wider, a little bigger, you've risen to the moment, stepped boldly into the fray, matched them, risk for risk, even when there were a thousand places you could have excused yourself and hid.
'Tis an exquisite thing to be able to witness, even at the distance of a page.
Gosh. No words David. "Tis an exquisite thing to feel embraced and seen, even from the glare of my screen."
Your friend sounds like Charlie's soul twin, larger than life... now feeling into the Larry-sized hole he left when he exited this plane, perhaps to join some interstellar folk band with my bio-dad.
May we always hear their music and respond with equal grace.
It is such a privilege to read the words you share. This is absolute beauty. I've been behind on reading so many things (including your installments), so today, I dove back in and went straight to this.
THIS.
I can't wait to go back and start from the very beginning and get caught up along the way. Your writing is exquisite, and it will offer comfort to others as it does to me. THANK YOU for sharing this remarkable story, Kimberly.
I was just thinking about our Christine, wondering how your own story is unfolding. Thank you for your kind words. One of my dear friends over here is reading in what she calls "Warner-time" — meaning, nonlinear, looping, multi-dimensional time and space, to somewhat mirror the looping my own story seems to have with lives that have gone before me. So no pressure to follow along in any sort of direct fashion!
I read the paragraph that begins with, "I turn off the faucet, dry my face.." with the sleeve of my sweater bundled up and pressed into my mouth. I couldn't even tell you what I was feeling, other than I had a sense of what was coming, and it made me scared and excited and like I wanted to sob, and like I somehow understood my own patchwork self a little better, through you, somehow...
Also, on my mother’s side, the family tree goes back all the way to 1066. Sometimes, if I feel in need of calling in the feminine wisdom of my ancestral forebears, I’ll sit and say, I am Chloe daughter of Rosie, daughter of Mary, daughter of Daisy, daughter of Emma, daughter of Mary etc etc. It’s a profound thing, to belong. And I’m forever grateful for the invitation to more fully inhabit my belonging. (And that’s a long way of saying, I love you)
I’ve waited to reply to your comment but have returned to it at least a dozen times. I even read it out loud around the dinner table with my mom and bro and family during a recent visit. You’ve inspired us all to learn the names of great and great great and great great great ancestors so we, too, can honor our lineage of unfolding stories. You are such a beautiful creature Chloe. Truly the rarest of birds, seemingly existing with such a gossamer boundary between self and other that I don’t know where your experience of life ends and another’s begins. Your channeling and the word celebrations that emerge from it, maybe the most tangible translation of your symbiotic existence. (And that’s a long way of saying, I love you.)
It's been a bumpy ride but that last stanza seems to sum it up beautifully, Kim - perfect!
"unfolding
i understand
unholding
i a m
not the dancer
but the stage
less the word
more the page"
It's truly wonderful that you've found a heart-home with the Brauers, while still having your Warners - and your own family too (and still make room for your Substack fam too ;) Much love to you, Kim ❤️🩷💙
"I wanted it to be true." This man knows how to get to the feels with just a handful of words.
Also, so so lovely a comment from Lois.
I don't think you could have asked for a more accepting and loving family to embrace you.
That liquid to solid moment... has this become more regular? Is there now a consistent solid ground? (Apologies if I've missed you saying this anywhere else.)
Right? Brilliant guy he is... it's no wonder he got himself into a long career in filmmaking. And Lois, the matriarch. She holds all the stories, past and present, in the twinkle of her eye.
Some days the rocking is so subtle now I can barely feel it. But no, usually it's always there. I thought it might become more regular but alas, water is now my ground and that's quite alright. I'll share the actual diagnosis this Sunday with some of the more particulars about what I found out. xo
Thank you for your beautiful memoir. It was so moving and it was a joy to read your sentences. Also, after listening to two of your interviews I was impressed with the gentleness and kindness with which you asked questions and connected your own experiences and insights to those of your guest.
I look forward to reading your posts in the future.
Best wishes to you in continuing to navigate those waves with such grace and courage.
Oh Anne, what a dear thing to say. I certainly can't claim to be an expert interviewer but I do love connecting with and listening to the more subtle, quieter parts of the human story, probably because I always feel subtle and quiet. ;) Thank you for your kind and generous response.
I am struggling to find the words I need to let you know how touched I am by your writing. It has beauty, tenderness, and even though our stories are different, I feel connected to you through both the similarities and the differences. The love that permeates your family is the love that I find in you when you interview others, in your comments, in your memoir. Simply stunning 💚
Isn't it wonderful to feel connected to someone through both the similarities AND the differences? This is a special place of meeting and I look forward to understanding these bridges between us as we continue to conversations. Thank you for seeing me dear Mya. I've often said the one thing that made me never doubt they were my family is their response. To my very core, this abandoned, unsuspicious, open way of receiving the world and her "news" has always been me. It's quite remarkable to feel that genetic impulse reflected back through generations. Thank you for your genuine and profound insights as we've traveled through this memoir together.
I waited and waited until I couldn’t wait a second longer… but I knew I would cry so I walked to the top of the hill and perched on what little remains of the outcrop of rocks where I often sit and in complete solitude and read…
“I wanted it to be true.”
oh Kimberly… not only did tears flow when I read this line, I gasped and faltered… the warmth of just those simple words…
I don’t think any story ever has touched me in the way that yours has. Is that because I have the delight of dialogue in between.. a point of contact otherwise absent in a book I have purchased… possibly but I think it’s so much more - I am touched because you have touched me in such a deep and personal way with your words it has felt as though I am there, riding that wavy earth with you, discovering your huge open armed family. You made it felt not just in my heart but with every bone in my body…
Thank you… hugely for sharing.
And I will read every word again just as soon as my tear bank is replenished..!
With love and gratitude from my stormy hill in France xxx♥️xxx
You allowed yourself to be touched Susie. That is less my doing and more a reflection of your own resonant heart. You have indeed been riding the wavy earth with me, through your own exquisitely tender offerings. The inner and outer landscapes of spring flowers, misty skies, muted shades of winter into spring and back again, you have captured me again and again in your own web of experiencing and I gleefully submit.
“I wanted it to be true.” ~ This brought tears to my eyes.
And your description of how the idea gradually landed in your Consciousness, initially as a thought...
"My cells didn’t know what to do with it; they needed time and the slow metabolism of seasons to comprehend and assimilate."
This is so intriguing... totally in sync. with your symptoms of dizziness... gradually finding new ground, a new identity. Thank you so much for sharing 💖🙏
I tear up every time I tell that part of the story too. Such a profound, lasting love a family can have for their lost brother/son.
Originally I had the title of this chapter "cellular pace" but it felt too academic for my final chapter so I changed it. I'm so glad you picked up the essence of what I was trying to convey... it was quite remarkable to feel in that moment how our bodies have their own timing. It was such a simple moment but one I will never forget— a visceral landing. Intriguing indeed and one I will be reflecting on for the rest of my days!
What Veronika said! ☝️
My found father’s sister told me to go back under the rock from which I came! When I was about 12. 🤦🏼♀️
I love your uncle because of those words he said alone. Thanks for bringing us along this story and journey with you. It’s been a pleasure and a blessing.
What a horrible thing to say Kim! I'm so sorry that happened to you. She's missing out on having a deeply compassionate, wise human in her life.
But sticks and stones and unkind words soon loose their strength as your own grows......
Oh that's terrible! And especially hurtful at such a young age.
"Your devoted intimacy with life is more than a hubcap. Inscribed on page or strummed through fingers or witnessed with gentle attention, your written, spoken and sung truth didn’t roll into a ditch but instead landed in me; a lasting song that reminded and awakened my own. Now, we sing it together."
The letter to Charlie!!! 😭
"My great aunt Lois (who insists I call her grandma) and her gentle, teary offering, “What a blessing to experience you at the end of my life.” More tears. The tenderness and love that you have been welcomed with through Charlie's family. What a gift he left for all of you.
"Dave’s question to Rich, “What was your first thought after you read Kimberly’s initial outreach?” And my uncle’s reaching hand across a pitcher of margaritas to grab mine in response, “I wanted it to be true."
Crying the biggest, fattest tears. This is the most beautiful epilogue. And then you just really bring it home making me sob even more...
"unfolding
I understand
unholding
i a m
not the dancer
but the stage
less the word
more the page"
I AM ONCE AGAIN IN A GLASS CASE OF EMOTION. I knew this was coming. I knew that your body and your mind would finally embrace the truth of your life with all of the other truths that demanded to exist all at once. I just didn't know how wonderfully wrecked I would be when I finally read the words. Your poor but incredible body. Such cataclysmic change all at once. The ultimate shift in identity and reality. As you so often do, you have replaced words with pure emotion and I am reveling in the afterglow of experiencing a life changing story with the most achingly beautiful/satisfying ending. Truly remarkable, Kimberly. It has been my honor to read your memoir. What an incredible piece of art you have created. Charlie is so wildly proud.
Jenovia, I've read your comment a half dozen times now, each time prepared to reply. But your words just send me into a spasm of joyous shivers and childlike smiles, my brain short-circuiting on humbled, awe-full, delight. The way you've navigated my story, one foot in the human realm with a box of kleenex nearby, another in some ancient understanding of how life works, how love prevails, how reality is so much more than what meets the eye. Even during chapters of abysmal loss and insecurity you held on and nodded with sage-like calm, as if you already knew the ending. Thank you thank you thank you, you freaking gorgeous human.
You both are
Thank YOU. I’ve never cried so much and so hard at a memoir. Cried at both the wondrous ways life can lift us up and at the devastating blows that cast us down. This has been one of my favorite reads of my life. 🥹❤️🔥
Tears are flowing after this chapter. I’d heard Rich’s comment before, but had not heard what Aunt Lois said to you. Beautiful words to cherish. I’ll tell you when I knew you were a Brauer. When my mom shared the email you had written to Rich and I saw a picture of you, I just KNEW that you were a part of our family. You resemble Chuck in body, mind and spirit. I’m forever grateful that you had the courage to reach out to our family!
Jen! How dear to feel your presence over here at the end of a long year of sharing. I know you've been reading along privately but I'm sure some of my readers over here will be delighted to feel you in this very sweet embrace. If this story offered even a glimmer of the unusually profound and generous love the Brauer's all embody, then I will die a happy human. Your mom, Janet, Rich, all the cousins, the nieces, nephews, the 2nd cousins, and on and on and on...there is a purity of heart in this family that I can only compare to the feeling I get every time spring returns and color bursts forth from the ground, like an eternal love between the sun and the earth. You are all THE gift of my lifetime.
Sjoe... 🥹 'I am a Brauer' - I literally felt that in MY cells for you ❤️ I know that visceral feeling of landing in yourself, your sense of self coming home, to ground, to heart. Both a surrender and a reunion. It's, well, you expressed it so beautifully. I don't think we appreciate the felt sense and importance of our identities. Or our belongingness. My world is a richer place with your story 🙏 I am also admiring of you and Dave. To remain in relationship when our physical and mental health spirals is a great test, one that not everyone makes it through. Thank you again for sharing and inspiring, I may just have to read it all again! ❤️❤️
Awww, dear Micah. I've so loved sharing this story with you. Even though I don't know your story, I could feel how themes would pull on you as you reflected on chapters. I'm beyond grateful for your steadfast enthusiasm and encouragement; I only hope I can offer you the same someday if you ever decide to share your own life's unfolding.
It's such a pleasure - more than happy to be your cheerleader! I just can't do the splits midair 😂 And yes there have been many resonant themes for me, I found your story when I most needed it ❤️ thank you for that offering...I have indeed been writing my own story. It mostly lives between my therapist(s) and I but they're not likely to let me get away with never sharing it haha 🥹 it's not quite finished yet though, not that we're ever really done, but this particular story is not over yet... But when it is, and it's time to share, it would be a privilege to have you there 😉
Consider me a fellow traveler when you do. And happy to connect and offer any tips for the road if you ever need someone to bounce ideas off of or just need to feel less alone as you proceed. x
I really appreciate that 🤗🤗 right now I'm navigating the workload of the first semester of a social sciences degree, so I'm unsure of when my story will enter the real world... But I feel like we should definitely connect over a zoom call or something, if you're keen 😊
DM me whenever you feel a readiness or have time to connect!
I will do so! Awesome ❤️🤗
Like the last commentator said, “it’s a privilege to read the words you share”. I continue to be stunned by the beauty and profundity of your writing! You obviously have a gift for putting your thots into words. One final thot however: you are part Warner, part Brauer…and part Larson. And ALL your yourself! A unique and exquisite creation indeed.
Oh my gosh! I thought I had Larson in there and then I just saw I didn't! What a silly oversight. Just added it in. ;) Sorry Larson lineage! You are infinitely more a part of me than the Warner lineage! ::)
My fingers turn over the last page. The cover, gently closed.
Your great aunt Lois;
“What a blessing to experience you at the end of my life.”
Your uncle Rich;
“I wanted it to be true.”
They both say; You, are cherished. You, are that piece of Charlie they never expected to find. Many of us can spend a lifetime with our biological families. Very few of us have ever felt that kind of love.
In your memoir, Charlie’s poetry allows the reader a certain sense of him. How he viewed the world around him and his place within it , or the place he was still searching for. Oh , I don’t begin to claim I know him. I just, feel him.
I do believe he would have loved spending time at your beautiful homestead. Maybe he would have found peace there. He might have pressed his bare feet deep into the soil, establishing his own roots of contentment.
I will go so far as to say, he would have been so proud of you. They both would.
This is not a book I will read again. I won’t have to. It will stay with me.
Tears…
( And another four arms hug. Six , to be accurate).
"You, are that piece of Charlie they never expected to find." This just gave me chills Lor. I think anyone who loses a loved one longs for but never expects some sort of "return" and especially decades later! I think it's extra special that I happen to look and embody so many of his qualities and that he left a gazillion bread crumbs behind in the form of footage, poetry, journals and song so I, too, can feel how much he lives inside me.
It's funny to say, but when some of you started referring to him as Charlie many many chapters ago, it at first startled me. Like another moment where my cells at first had to catch up and say "Oh he's real! Now other people are referring to him as well!" It was very healing for me to have this experience, and to feel all your beautiful arms reaching out to not just me, but to the both of us.
You are a treasure dear Lor.
Thankyou Kimberley, we travel, we measure, and I have flown 79 times around the Sun to sit and write on this Boulevard of meetings. Maurice
heart heart heart (I for some reason can't access emoji's on my computer. ;)
Several days ago I wrote: "Sometimes I read a thing and then need to let the tea steep for a few days before pouring. " You replied: "...re my memoir, never a need to reply... this Sunday I post the epilogue, which is really more of "the end" anyway. So let those two simmer together before you pour your tea. :)." So, I've been sitting your counsel.
Lost a dear friend a few years back whom I'd known and adored since high school. Larry never married, never had any kids that he knew of. The most naturally gifted musician I've known, playing mandolin, guitar, fiddle, banjo, hammered dulcimer, autoharp, Uilleann pipes and bagpipes, harmonica, accordion, concertina, pipe organ, recorder and clarinet. He made custom reeds for other pipers all over the world from materials he gathered in the wilds of the mountains and built two of his own cabins and ultimately several houses.
He reminded me in a hundred ways of the man you've introduced us to, the magical being you've come to know as your dad. Exquisitely handsome. Similar free spirit, deep spiritual wisdom and sense of magic and adventure that left the folks that loved him both mystified and full of wonder.
So I couldn't seem to help it, I kept imaging Larry, as your tale unfolded, because I know that face, those eyes and at least the edges of that once here heart. How profoundly enchanted he'd have been to meet someone like you, how grateful, how awed. I can see the way his breath would catch, how humbled he'd have been, how honored.
You do your father proud, Kimberly by so profoundly doing the work of making yourself proud. By becoming a teachable warrior princess. And each time his family has opened their hearts a little wider, a little bigger, you've risen to the moment, stepped boldly into the fray, matched them, risk for risk, even when there were a thousand places you could have excused yourself and hid.
'Tis an exquisite thing to be able to witness, even at the distance of a page.
I thank you.
Gosh. No words David. "Tis an exquisite thing to feel embraced and seen, even from the glare of my screen."
Your friend sounds like Charlie's soul twin, larger than life... now feeling into the Larry-sized hole he left when he exited this plane, perhaps to join some interstellar folk band with my bio-dad.
May we always hear their music and respond with equal grace.
more than an epilogue i trust
as this journey as you write it still unfolds in the heart
You couldn't be more correct. ;)
It is such a privilege to read the words you share. This is absolute beauty. I've been behind on reading so many things (including your installments), so today, I dove back in and went straight to this.
THIS.
I can't wait to go back and start from the very beginning and get caught up along the way. Your writing is exquisite, and it will offer comfort to others as it does to me. THANK YOU for sharing this remarkable story, Kimberly.
I was just thinking about our Christine, wondering how your own story is unfolding. Thank you for your kind words. One of my dear friends over here is reading in what she calls "Warner-time" — meaning, nonlinear, looping, multi-dimensional time and space, to somewhat mirror the looping my own story seems to have with lives that have gone before me. So no pressure to follow along in any sort of direct fashion!
I read the paragraph that begins with, "I turn off the faucet, dry my face.." with the sleeve of my sweater bundled up and pressed into my mouth. I couldn't even tell you what I was feeling, other than I had a sense of what was coming, and it made me scared and excited and like I wanted to sob, and like I somehow understood my own patchwork self a little better, through you, somehow...
Also, on my mother’s side, the family tree goes back all the way to 1066. Sometimes, if I feel in need of calling in the feminine wisdom of my ancestral forebears, I’ll sit and say, I am Chloe daughter of Rosie, daughter of Mary, daughter of Daisy, daughter of Emma, daughter of Mary etc etc. It’s a profound thing, to belong. And I’m forever grateful for the invitation to more fully inhabit my belonging. (And that’s a long way of saying, I love you)
I’ve waited to reply to your comment but have returned to it at least a dozen times. I even read it out loud around the dinner table with my mom and bro and family during a recent visit. You’ve inspired us all to learn the names of great and great great and great great great ancestors so we, too, can honor our lineage of unfolding stories. You are such a beautiful creature Chloe. Truly the rarest of birds, seemingly existing with such a gossamer boundary between self and other that I don’t know where your experience of life ends and another’s begins. Your channeling and the word celebrations that emerge from it, maybe the most tangible translation of your symbiotic existence. (And that’s a long way of saying, I love you.)
See you next week! 👏💛
I found myself blushing at the thought of being read aloud to your family! Bless you. You’re magic. See you next week x
It's been a bumpy ride but that last stanza seems to sum it up beautifully, Kim - perfect!
"unfolding
i understand
unholding
i a m
not the dancer
but the stage
less the word
more the page"
It's truly wonderful that you've found a heart-home with the Brauers, while still having your Warners - and your own family too (and still make room for your Substack fam too ;) Much love to you, Kim ❤️🩷💙
So much love.... coming right back to you friend.
Beautiful, perfect epilogue.
"I wanted it to be true." This man knows how to get to the feels with just a handful of words.
Also, so so lovely a comment from Lois.
I don't think you could have asked for a more accepting and loving family to embrace you.
That liquid to solid moment... has this become more regular? Is there now a consistent solid ground? (Apologies if I've missed you saying this anywhere else.)
Right? Brilliant guy he is... it's no wonder he got himself into a long career in filmmaking. And Lois, the matriarch. She holds all the stories, past and present, in the twinkle of her eye.
Some days the rocking is so subtle now I can barely feel it. But no, usually it's always there. I thought it might become more regular but alas, water is now my ground and that's quite alright. I'll share the actual diagnosis this Sunday with some of the more particulars about what I found out. xo
That's good to hear. I wasn't sure whether to ask too much, but I'm glad to hear you're going to share how it's all going. 🤗
I’m an open book! Glad you asked!
The best way to be!
Thank you for your beautiful memoir. It was so moving and it was a joy to read your sentences. Also, after listening to two of your interviews I was impressed with the gentleness and kindness with which you asked questions and connected your own experiences and insights to those of your guest.
I look forward to reading your posts in the future.
Best wishes to you in continuing to navigate those waves with such grace and courage.
Oh Anne, what a dear thing to say. I certainly can't claim to be an expert interviewer but I do love connecting with and listening to the more subtle, quieter parts of the human story, probably because I always feel subtle and quiet. ;) Thank you for your kind and generous response.
I am struggling to find the words I need to let you know how touched I am by your writing. It has beauty, tenderness, and even though our stories are different, I feel connected to you through both the similarities and the differences. The love that permeates your family is the love that I find in you when you interview others, in your comments, in your memoir. Simply stunning 💚
Isn't it wonderful to feel connected to someone through both the similarities AND the differences? This is a special place of meeting and I look forward to understanding these bridges between us as we continue to conversations. Thank you for seeing me dear Mya. I've often said the one thing that made me never doubt they were my family is their response. To my very core, this abandoned, unsuspicious, open way of receiving the world and her "news" has always been me. It's quite remarkable to feel that genetic impulse reflected back through generations. Thank you for your genuine and profound insights as we've traveled through this memoir together.
I waited and waited until I couldn’t wait a second longer… but I knew I would cry so I walked to the top of the hill and perched on what little remains of the outcrop of rocks where I often sit and in complete solitude and read…
“I wanted it to be true.”
oh Kimberly… not only did tears flow when I read this line, I gasped and faltered… the warmth of just those simple words…
I don’t think any story ever has touched me in the way that yours has. Is that because I have the delight of dialogue in between.. a point of contact otherwise absent in a book I have purchased… possibly but I think it’s so much more - I am touched because you have touched me in such a deep and personal way with your words it has felt as though I am there, riding that wavy earth with you, discovering your huge open armed family. You made it felt not just in my heart but with every bone in my body…
Thank you… hugely for sharing.
And I will read every word again just as soon as my tear bank is replenished..!
With love and gratitude from my stormy hill in France xxx♥️xxx
You allowed yourself to be touched Susie. That is less my doing and more a reflection of your own resonant heart. You have indeed been riding the wavy earth with me, through your own exquisitely tender offerings. The inner and outer landscapes of spring flowers, misty skies, muted shades of winter into spring and back again, you have captured me again and again in your own web of experiencing and I gleefully submit.
Loving you dearly.