Delighted.

Come right on in. This is where grief will have a huge head-on collision with truth. And I’ll faithfully report the results.

This post hangs out at the gateway of sans birds but I’m sending it now as a little welcome to new readers. And, of course, it’s for my veterans too! Thank you all so much for being here. Each and every one.

Let me tell you a little bit about myself and how I made my way to Substack.

My name is Kara Cross. I’m a mom of three boys who’ve flown the coop. I sometimes break to write about my persistent case of Adult Children Vertigo.

In a former life, I was a performing artist but retired from that to raise the kids in New York City. Recently, I moved north to the Hudson Highlands, where I’m thoroughly enjoying the quiet and the trees.

I’m a Christian but, truthfully, I struggle pretty mightily with doubts and questions, mostly about why God allows things to be so, so hard here. Especially when I consider our wider world.

Photo: Lynne Tennille

Why sans birds?

The curious name came from my sister, Lissy. Many years ago, when she was dying, she received dozens of beautiful, kind letters from friends and family in the mail — sweet messages of love and encouragement. But the cards that featured pictures of birds on them, she summarily tossed.

She so wished she could fly away — from her disease, from the intense suffering, from saying goodbye to all of us, especially her son, Jack.

But people can’t fly.

The card she actually stuck on her fridge said:

If you’re going through hell, keep going.

If I had to summarize the ethos of that season, I think that about captures it.

The Aftermath

I staggered in the months (read years) after my sister’s death. My Mom died too, a handful of months before, of Alzheimer’s disease. I was wading through what everyone called “grief.” But I found it to be maybe 12% deep sadness and 88% things like numbness, hypervigilance, insomnia, brain fog, isolation, agoraphobia, physical pain, an immune system that went nuts and an old-fashioned hitch to red wine to make it all feel survivable. (Bad idea.)

God and church and my Bible felt pretty remote and strange. Not sure what else to do, I began to read. A lot.

First memoirs — other people’s stories helped me find a language amidst the shattering questions that ran amok in my heart and head. Some were written by Christians; plenty were not. I found anyone’s journey through the wild terrain of deep sorrow compelling.

I also returned to the power of art and its ability to reach places that words and arguments simply could not. Slowly, and with lots of help, I was able to carry my losses with more presence (and less numbness) and trust God again with my messy, unfinished faith.

Photo: Erin Wik

The File

One thing I did right in all this was to keep a record of it—a file. Anything that had the ring of truth over those years — passages from books, prayers, poetry, philosophy, sermons, paintings, Scripture, and the emerging science around grief—I threw in there.

When I moved from the city and came upon the boxes that held my file, I was so grateful for all those words and the people who wrote them. I realized I couldn’t toss out this brain trust, nor bury it in storage.

And so, sans birds was born.

Photo: Erin Wik

My Hope

It’s my hope that these letters and stories from the file might resonate with others who have walked through a valley of sorrow. The worst of my grief was primarily frightening and lonely.

You won’t often hear me remark directly on the good things about tragedy and loss because it’s just better when people don’t die. But I will say—we’ll likely trip over some of them. I don’t want to conjure cheer when there is only pain but I also don’t want to overlook post-traumatic growth which for me was very real.

And I love to laugh and complain. So we’ll leave some time for that, too.

I suppose I can’t say it more simply than this: all these years later, I remain fully preoccupied with finding some sun.

So join me, my friend. Let’s keep the lights on.

Consider yourself most warmly and gratefully welcomed to sans birds.

^{*Background music featured: Top of the Morning, Victor Lundberg, Epidemic Sound}