
Cigar Chronicles: Flavorful Things to Ponder
- Sheldon Jackson
- May 15
- 3 min read
Ashes and Embers: Navigating Loss with Grace, Grit, and a Good Cigar
I. The Nature of Loss
Loss—whether the end of a marriage, a job, or a dream—is a burning away of something that once defined you. It leaves behind a stillness, sometimes a silence. Like watching the final curl of smoke from a fine cigar, you realize something has ended. And yet, from the ashes, something remains—something that can be shaped into strength, if you let it.
II. The Emotional Journey
Shock and Denial
You wake up expecting life to go on as usual. But it doesn’t. Your mind shields you from the blow at first. You’re numb, confused, disoriented.
Tip: Don’t force clarity. Let stillness be your friend. Journal. Breathe. Let yourself feel nothing without guilt.
Anger and Resentment
You’ll get angry—at others, at yourself, at God, at life. You might even blame the wind for blowing the wrong way that day.
Tip: Don’t suppress it, but don’t feed it either. Channel it into something creative, physical, or constructive. Let your cigar burn in silence until you’ve said nothing you’ll regret.
Bargaining and Regret
You replay every “what if.” You long for a different decision, a different path.
Tip: Write a letter you’ll never send. Speak your regrets out loud—then put them away. No deal with the past will change the present.
Sadness and Surrender
The weight settles in. You feel the absence deeply. You feel vulnerable, maybe even broken.
Tip: Embrace the sadness. It’s sacred ground. You’re becoming something new here. Sit with a trusted friend—or with yourself and a cigar—and honor your pain.
Acceptance and Rebuilding
Eventually, you realize the ground didn’t fall away. You’re still here. And now, you’re building—not what was, but what will be.
Tip: Make small moves. Wake up, make your bed, light a cigar on your porch, and let the morning remind you—you’re still writing your story.
III. How Others Will Respond (And How You Should Respond Back)
Loss doesn’t just test your resilience—it tests your relationships. Here are the characters you’ll meet on your path:
The Supporters
These are your lifelines. They show up. They check in. They listen more than they speak.
Your Response: Let them in. Thank them. Don’t feel guilty needing them. Real strength is accepting help when it’s offered with love.
The Silent Watchers
They say nothing. Maybe they don’t know what to say. Maybe they’re uncomfortable.
Your Response: Don’t assign meaning to their silence. Sometimes people carry their own grief and don’t know how to share space with yours.
The Empathetic Bystanders
They say, “I’m so sorry” but offer no help, no presence.
Your Response: Accept the gesture for what it is. Empathy without action is still better than indifference. Move on with grace.
The Gleeful Spectators
Yes, there will be people who smile at your fall. Jealousy, insecurity, bitterness—whatever the reason, they find joy in your pain.
Your Response: Starve them. Give them nothing. No reaction, no explanation, no revenge. Your composure is the loudest silence they’ll ever hear.
IV. Final Puff: Your Response Is Everything
You can’t control the loss. You can’t control the way others show up—or don’t. But you can control your response. You can choose to grow deeper, not bitter. You can choose grace over gossip, peace over panic, rebuilding over regret.
Like savoring a good cigar, healing takes patience, stillness, and attention. Some days will feel like smoke in the wind. But others will carry the warmth of new purpose.
So take a breath. Light one up. Let it burn slow. And remember—nothing is truly lost that doesn’t teach you something worth keeping.
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