All Things Pass

As I sat down to write, it was hard for me to switch gears from gravitas to silliness. Yesterday’s elegy to Nora Ephron left me in a heap on my bed. I realized there has been quite a bit of loss in my life as of late.

The little girl upstairs is moving out. I’ve written about her – she’s the one who moves furniture at 3 a.m. and occasionally thinks my door is hers when she’s had one too many cosmopolitans. You’re probably thinking I should celebrate her departure but despite the ongoing antics I’ve really grown to like her. She reminded me of a fawn in 4 inch heels navigating in the big city. I used to follow her up a flight to make sure she didn’t topple over like an unsteady lamppost. Now we have the nervous vigil to see who will be up there next, always a scary prospect.

My favorite priest at St. Thomas More has retired. He was my last shred of attachment to the Catholic Church, someone I like and respect so, so much. He said I could write to him which took some of the forlornness away but I’m still grieving due to the more than likely probability of never seeing him again.

I think back of all the things that have happened in my life that brought me incredible pain that somehow I managed to recover from. When Bill Hicks died for instance that was a bullet I sincerely thought I’d never heal from, yet 18 plus years later I can now unemotionally write about him in all his Texan glory.

We’re designed to heal, there’s no question. Our hearts may be held together by glue and epoxy but they seem to always rise up like wounded soldiers from the field.

I just watched a film called The Upside of Anger and there’s a poignant scene when the two leads are in his kitchen sharing a pint of ice-cream. After Denny (Kevin Costner) declares himself to Teri (Joan Allen)  she says, “I’ve had my heart broken Denny and I don’t know if it’s ever gonna heal.”

Denny says, “Sure it will, just a little funny that’s all, like it might have a limp.”

I loved that because it’s true. In life we take dramatic hits yet miraculously live through them. Are we changed because of them; just a little sadder? Absolutely, but we’re made to love and carry on no matter what befalls us.

All things pass, good and bad, happy and sad so I know this stroll through the valley will end and I’ll find myself in a beautiful clearing once again.

I was thinking of writing the girl upstairs a short farewell note.

Dear Gem…

It’s been really great being your neighbor these past three years. I wish you all the best but I was thinking, in the future when you go out drinking with your girlfriends, could you please consider wearing flats?

Take good care,


About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Thanks.
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12 Responses to All Things Pass

  1. At Meeting(Quaker) one time a woman stood up and gracefully described the “broken heart” by explaining when it’s cracked the loves spills over, usually into other things to heal. When it’s “shattered” that is similar to seeing a fragile vase break into a zillion pieces. This takes longer to put back together. Once it starts to mend we tend to lock it up for safety, in hopes that a unique set of hands will come along to hold it gently, especially around those weak areas.
    Nothing like crying like a freaking baby in the middle of Meeting….seriously!


    • I really loved what you wrote. What an amazing break-down of sorts. We do lock it up safely, this is true. You get gun shy with it by putting it away for another day. Thanks for contributing that.


  2. rheath40 says:

    You should write her a sweet note. I know she’d love it. She’d keep it with her forever. I don’t know. I just feel that she would….


    • It’s funny who we get attached to, even someone you barely know. There was an innocent quality to her – must have tweaked my maternal streak. That drinking business is an accident waiting to happen.


  3. Vasca says:

    Oh please write her a note…I think she’ll cherish it for a long, long time! Knowing you thought of her when she possibly hadn’t a clue? Priceless.
    As for heartbreak? Sometimes it hurts so…for such an eternity. I have one that I cannot bury…and I always remember it most painfully…it won’t go away but at least I no longer crumble. Time, time!


  4. You are so right about loss.


  5. Bloody heartbreak… It can be such a bottomless pit of despair. Until my focus shifts to noticing the silver lining and appreciation for whatever it is that led me to being stronger, wiser, more compassionate, more resilient.

    Your affection for Miss Stiletto is most understandable, I still fondly remember a past step daughter, the trail of dents she left in my hardwood floor with her spike heels made me wince. Somehow she also left an indelible trail in my heart. She was a hoot and I always smile when I think of her beautiful warrior spirit.

    It’s the contrast between the insane pain and frustration and the incredible high of experiencing love that always shows me again and again the infinite beauty of love even more clearly.


  6. Nabilla says:

    what an elegant way to describe a broken heart Susannah


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