by Ligia Houben | Jul 7, 2020 | Blog US
I understand you, if when you want to say her name, you feel like a lump in your throat.
I understand you, when you look at the phone, thinking that you are going to receive a message from her.
I understand you, when you feel that weight in your soul, when realizing that she is not by your side
I understand you, when suddenly for no reason you start crying
I understand you, if you avoid going home so you do not have to face the emptiness
I understand you, if at nightfall you need a good night kiss
I understand you, if at the beginning of the day you need to say that prayer
I understand you, if sometimes you wonder who you are now
I understand you, if the emptiness you feel inside, you feel it physically
I understand you, if in the middle of a conversation a memory comes to you, and a tear comes out
I understand you, if when visiting places, you frequented together, you feel your heart jumping
I understand you, if suddenly you get a feeling of being numb, and you feel floating
I understand you, if you want to turn back time, and even if it was just one more time, receive her hug
I understand you…
Ligia M. Houben
by Ligia Houben | Jun 23, 2020 | Blog US
Accompany me to see the stars,
in case I can see her face from afar.
Accompany me to see the sky,
in case I find consolation in the clouds.
Accompany me to walk by the sea,
where I can deeply sigh and just be.
Accompany me to walk this path,
where I just wait and stay still.
Accompany me like this, in silence.
You do not need to say a word…
Just accompany me.
Ligia M. Houben
A grieving poem for my beloved mother.
by Ligia Houben | Jun 23, 2020 | Blog US
This poem came to my heart a week after my mother died.
Is the world moving faster, or is it me who is moving slower?
Suddenly spaces are bigger. Suddenly the steps I take, have lost their rush; they are just tiptoeing on the floor.
Like if I tiptoed, I would not feel the floor beneath. I would not feel the coldness of this reality, that is like a layer, like a blanket; like a blanket of coldness over me. That coldness is, the coldness of death.
The sense of everything having stopped. How come people are still walking if everything stopped?
What do I care to eat?
What do I care to drink?
The source of my greatest joy, the source of my greatest purpose, my purpose, my little doll as I called her, is not here to hug me; to extend her tiny arms and embrace me against her chest; to make her forehead move towards mine; to touch our noses in that unique and intimate movement of love, and total surrender into what love means.
The lack of warmth of that body that for so many nights I cuddled.
The face I caressed with adoration.
True love. The eyes I kissed day in and day out.
Her body, so tiny, and at the same time, so strong.
Strong will, warm heart. Unlimited love. No limit. A capacity to love beyond words.
Joyful life. Appreciation for everything; thank you for everything; how beautiful for everything, what a joy! For everything
This was the beauty of this woman who lived 100 years, and made a difference in each one of us
This woman I used to call mom; this woman I used to call my beloved mother.
This woman I used to call, mi muñequita
The emptiness, the void, goes beyond words…nothing can fill up the void, nothing, and no one. That was her place. It belonged only to her.
Our love went deeper than deep; stronger than strong; closer than close; an understanding just looking at each other; an understanding just to see each other…and that was it.
Thank you, mom, for showing me what love means.
Thank you, mom, for showing me what resilience means.
Thank you for showing me what faith is
Thank you mom, for shining…for being now, my private angel in heaven.
With all my love,
Your daughter, Ligia del Carmen
by Ligia Houben | Jun 14, 2020 | Blog US
I understand that facing the death of a loved one is not easy, because we miss that person every day. But remember that even if this person is not physically present, their memories will always live on. We can transform the relationship we had with that departed person, since the bonds of love will continue after they have passed from this life. Although these ties are invisible, they are as precious as gold. These bonds with our loved ones can inspire us to forge a life with a higher purpose and greater meaning. But to endure a loss of great magnitude we must be compassionate with ourselves and allow ourselves time to suffer and grieve. The tears and comforting conversations are necessary. There is no defined time for processing our grief. We each process grief at our own pace.
Ligia M. Houben
Transform Your Loss. Your Guide to Strength and Hope.
Don’t tell me to move one.
Don’t tell me she is in a better place.
Don’t tell me she lived a long life.
Don’t tell me she would like to see me happy.
Don’t tell me to be strong.
Don’t try to console me.
Let me be with my grief. It is a sacred place, as I am grieving so much, because I loved my mother so much.
Her love will remain in my heart next to my father. I know it will be a time when my suffering will be transformed into the most beautiful spiritual experience. I know this because that is what I want to happen.
However, right now, I want to be here. Still, in silence. One with my pain and my beloved mother’s memories. I want to be fully present to my pain because I know it will be the only way to release the suffering.
I said in my book, Transform Your Loss. Your Guide to Strength and Hope, that we learn to live with our loss.
It is not a matter to forget or move on…it is a matter of moving forward with my beloved mother’s love, her inspiration, her joy, and her faith, in my heart.
For now…let me be still.
Ligia M. Houben
by Ligia Houben | May 20, 2020 | Blog US
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]We are living unprecedented times where things just shifted.
We still need to keep social distancing and the way we live changed.
Many people are working from home. Many people are buying houses virtually.
Many people are Zooming for therapy. Many people are doing their groceries with Instacart.
Some people welcome the shift to digital. They find it comfortable and convenient.
Some other people resist the digital world. They need the physical contact. They may feel isolated.
Those are the ones that say “but I prefer it in person.” Being a hugger, I can totally understand it.
However, at times like this, we make the choice to either welcome it or resist it. It depends how we see it.
What if we welcome connecting with others, even if we are not with them in the same room?
For many years, I taught virtually for Kaplan University, and we held weekly seminars.
My students were always surprised to feel how connected we were, despite of being thousands of miles away.
We can be close to each other, from heart to heart.
Make that Whatsapp call; that Zoom meeting. Reach out to others today, and connect from your heart.
And, if you are able to visit with the other person, remember to keep social distance. It’s for you. It’s for them.
I wish you a beautiful day,
Ligia M. Houben[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]
