i’ll begin with a cliché: love hurts—violently so. because it’s true what they say: when all is weighed and measured, grief is the cost of having loved.
the heart, after all, is only an organ— it carries weight, it can be counted, it can fail.
at least i have my poetry, the one thing that remains mine— steady as bone and blood, present through weather and calendars, unmoved by holidays or absence.
i have my words to quiet the body’s noise, to regulate the ache— a witness that doesn’t misread honesty, that takes me at my weight.
i have my meter, keeping time with the muscle in my chest, measuring strain, filtering excess feeling.
and when everything has been accounted for, when all is said, written, and spent, i can descend— into silence, into indifference, and rest where nothing asks the heart to be more than it is.
For Violet’s Literary Quote Challenge:
“The heart is like any other organ, you can weigh it on a scale.”– Hilary Mantel, Wolf Hall
summer is always so much fun beach, the ultimate place magic dad was out for a magic run siblings frozen in stance stoic
unlimited, enchanting sky white sands across the beach in awe memories like this just pass by leaving lessons to teach so raw
For David’s W3
Marion’s prompt: Memento
For this week’s W3 challenge, let’s write a Memento — a poetic form created by Emily Romano. A memento poem captures a holiday, anniversary, or meaningful moment held in memory.
The poem is written in two stanzas. Each of the two stanzas follows this syllabic pattern:
• Line 1: 8 beats • Line 2: 6 beats • Line 3: 2 beats
This pattern is repeated once per stanza, for a total rhyme scheme of a / b / c / a / b / c in each stanza.
let your memory be etched in sand, where tides may come, yet marks remain— so those who walk these shifting shores will pause, and know you once were here, and carry forward your face, your name, your living legacy.
I have never wanted to make my grief public. Loss has always felt like something sacred—too fragile to expose, too heavy to explain. But the events of these past weeks have made me pause and wonder if perhaps the universe is trying to tell me something. Maybe it is time to share—not for sympathy, but so others may learn something from it.
I lost my mother on New Year’s Day. It was sudden and completely unexpected. We were not ready. The pain is unexplainable, the kind that sits quietly in your chest and steals your breath when you least expect it.
Even now, I cannot fully put into words what it feels like. Maybe, in time, I will be able to speak about it more clearly.
In the midst of my deepest grief, my heart strangely rejoiced. I was finally able to thank her. A significant part of who I am today as a creative exists because she once chose to believe in me.
Today, my heart is grieving again.
I lost a very dear student—suddenly, painfully, and without warning. Even now, my mind struggles to accept it. She was my high school student, exceptionally brilliant. I was her coach and mentor in public speaking and writing competitions. I would personally drive her to contest venues, and along the way we would talk about her dreams, her hopes for the future. I remember telling her once that she would make a brilliant lawyer someday.
She did.
And through all the years, she never forgot me. She always remembered to thank me. I wrote about her too, because her quiet excellence and gratitude deserved to be remembered. (https://michnavs.wordpress.com/2025/02/10/silent-wins/)
To lose a mother and a beloved student just days apart is unimaginable. And yet, in the middle of that loss, I was reminded again of the power of belief—of being seen—by reconnecting with the very person who once trusted me when no one else would.
All of these things happening at once feels overwhelming. Grief and gratitude. Pain and joy. Loss and remembrance—colliding in ways I never expected.
So here I am, sharing both my sorrow and my gratitude. And perhaps the wisdom behind it all is this: life is profoundly unpredictable. Time is fragile. People are irreplaceable. We must love fully, speak our thanks openly, and make the most of who and what we have—while we still can.
The attached video shows Leny speaking about my book, What If Snowflakes Don’t Fall in Winter. Hearing her words now holds a deeper meaning than I can fully express.The second slide contains Leny’s most memorable message to me.
Cherita is the Malay word for story or tale. A traditional cherita unfolds in three verses, each growing in length: • Verse 1: one line • Verse 2: two lines • Verse 3: three lines You’re also welcome to rearrange the order of the verses. Any of these patterns work: • 1–3–2 • 2–1–3 • 2–3–1 • 3–1–2 • 3–2–1 Your challenge: Write a cherita inspired by one, two, or all of the following themes: • Cave • Special delivery • Missing road sign Let the structure guide the story—and see where it takes you.
The Teacher Who Believed in Me Before I Believed in Myself
Long before I became a poet, a storyteller, or a writer, I was a performer.
I joined declamation contests and won. I became part of theater productions. For a time, I even imagined myself pursuing professional acting. Performance came naturally to me, long before I fully understood its power.
It All Began at Ten
I was ten years old when everything began.
That same year, my father discovered my gift for words and my ability to craft compelling verses. My mother, a schoolteacher, became my first coach. Under her guidance, I joined a district-level declamation competition—and won. I was the youngest competitor, facing students far older and more experienced than I was. Winning at the district level meant moving on to a higher competition. But because of my age and lack of experience, many teachers doubted I could represent our district well.
All except one.
The Teacher Who Fought for Me
Ma’am Phoebe—Ms. Phoebs, as we fondly called her—fought fiercely for me. She believed I deserved the chance, regardless of my youth or inexperience. Together with my mother, she coached me patiently and tirelessly, pouring both skill and heart into every practice session. What I remember most from that time is how much fun it was. Practice never felt heavy. Even on competition day, I felt excitement more than fear.
There were more than fifteen contestants, if I remember correctly. I performed second to the last. I was the youngest—and quite literally the smallest. The program ran late into the evening, with other categories still waiting to be announced.
Exhausted, I went back to our quarters and fell asleep.
In my ten-year-old mind, I was certain I wouldn’t win. So why stay awake?
“You Won!”
At midnight, I was jolted awake by excited screams outside. Three older girls—Guada, Darlene, and Judy (I often wonder where life has taken them)—came running in, shouting, “You won! You won!”
Ma’am Phoebe hugged me tightly and said:
“I knew it from the start. I never had a single doubt you would win.”
That hug stayed with me for years. So did her unwavering belief. At one point, she even joked, “I think you have the making of an actress.” And yes, Ma’am, I did try my hand at acting later on—though my father was firm that it wasn’t the path he wanted for me.
Carrying Her Belief Through Life
Life moved on. I left for the city to attend university, finished school, and continued building my life. Somewhere along the way, Ma’am Phoebe and I lost contact. But her belief never left me. Whenever doubt crept in—and it often does—I reminded myself that once, there was a teacher who believed in me when no one else did.
Meeting Her Again
Recently, I received an unexpected and beautiful gift: I met Ma’am Phoebe again after decades apart. The joy of that moment is hard to put into words. I had been looking for her for years—perhaps just in all the wrong places. Seeing her again felt like closing a beautiful, unfinished chapter from my childhood.
A Thank You That Still Echoes
Thank you, Ma’am Phoebe, for seeing me before I learned how to see myself.
Your belief in me ignited my passion for creativity and excellence—and it continues to fuel everything I do.
Welcome to the first stop on the WordCrafter The Ones Who Stayed With Me Book Blog Tour. We’re glad that you’ve joined us to send off these fantastic chronicles of a career care-giving with a bang, as we release Nurse Sammy’s debut book.
The Ones Who Stayed With Me, is a memoir-ish collection of essays, written by Nurse Sammy, a young woman entering the health care profession and rising to become a kind and caring L.P.N., and the experiences which shaped her into the nurse she is today. Whether you have worked in the health care profession, been a patient in the system, or just want a glimpse of the industry from the inside, this book has something for you. Some stories may make you laugh, others may make you cry, as Nurse Sammy tells her raw, heartfelt tales.
About The Ones Who Stayed With Me
Chronicles of the journey into the medical field as a young nurse and beyond, told with raw sensitivity and compassion. The Ones Who Stayed with Me offers small glimpses into the world of an L.P.N. put in difficult, often touching or humorous, situations—and Nurse Sammy’s courage, vulnerability, and insight are a gift to us all. In these pages, Nurse Sammy tells her story and that of those she met along the way.
Nurse Sammy has spent her life walking the quiet edges of human suffering and human grace. Long before she ever wore scrubs, she learned how to read a room by the way someone breathed and how to steady a shaking hand. How to listen to the stories people only tell when they think it might be their last night to say them. Nursing wasn’t a career she chose; it was the language her heart was already speaking.
She has worked in places where life is beginning, and in places where life is ending; in rooms lit by hope, and in rooms where grief hangs heavy in the doorway. Rehab centers, memory care halls, pediatric units, assisted living, private homes, wherever someone needed gentleness, she went. She became the one who held vigil, the one who noticed the quiet details, the one who stayed.
Her personal life has carried its own ache, abuse survived, love lost, a marriage that bruised the soul, another built from healing, and a grief that still hums beneath her ribs. She writes from the tender, broken places, from the nights she rebuilt herself alone, from the mornings she rose anyway. Her words are shaped by both the wounds and the resilience that followed.
The Ones Who Stayed With Me is her first published work, a collection of truths disguised as stories, honoring the people who left fingerprints on her life in ways they never saw. Her writing is soft but unflinching, honest but merciful, threaded with the belief that even in darkness, someone is always holding a light.
Nurse Sammy lives in the Pacific Northwest, where she continues to care, to witness, to learn, and to turn the hardest parts of her journey into something that might help someone else breathe a little easier.
Wrap Up
That’s our tour stop for today. Thanks for joining us in the wonderful send off for Nurse Sammy’s book. She is a kind and caring person with something to share, and she gives in so many ways, not the least of which is the sharing of her story. Please leave a comment to let us know you were here supporting this young nurse and aspiring author. Comments also offer you a chance to win a free digital copy of The Ones Who Stayed With Me, and you can get one entry at every stop.
I also want to thank Michelle Ayon Navaras for hosting this stop and doing such a smashing job of setting it all up on three different blog sites: Poetry by Mich, Hotel by Masticadores & Masticadores Phillipines. Don’t forget to leave a comment for a chance to win a free digital copy of The Ones Who Stayed With Me. And, I hope you’ll all join us tomorrow, for Day 2 on the tour over on Writing to be Read, for an interview with Nurse Sammy and myself, Kaye Lynne Booth.
Give Away
Leave a comment for a chance to win a free digital copy of The Ones Who Stayed With Me By Nurse Sammy One entry per stop. Winners are chosen in a random drawing. Sponsored by WordCrafter Press.
Tour Schedule
Mon. 12 – Poetry by Mich, Hotel by Masticadores & Masticadores Phillipines Tues. 13 – Writing to be Read – Interview Wed. 14 – Undawnted Thurs. 15 – Book Places Fri. 16 – Writing to be Read _____________________________________ Book your WordCrafter Book Blog Tour today!
michnavs 