This week handed me a lot. I’m still sitting with it, if I’m honest. There was cold air and a good friend and a gator loaded with wood. There was a kitchen table and laughter that came from somewhere deep. There was brunch that stretched past noon because neither of us wanted to leave. And there were two women I loved — gone, both of them, in the same week. Life doesn’t always space things out gently. Sometimes it holds loss and beauty in the same open hand and asks you to receive it all. I’ve learned that the Gentle Pause isn’t just for the quiet, easy weeks. It’s for the ones that crack you open too. So here I am, showing up. And I’m so glad you’re here!
✦ PAUSE ✦
This week I lost two friends. Both of them 48 years old.
And in the same week – the very same week – I sat around a table with a friend I have known for 43 years, her Mom between us like she always has been, and we laughed like we were fifteen again. I met another friend for brunch – someone who I’ve been dear friends with since I was sixteen. We lingered over our coffee and food, and talked the way only people with decades between them can.
Life is tender like that. It holds loss and love in the same breath, sometimes in the same week, sometimes in the same afternoon.
So I’m asking you, before you read another word.
PAUSE – Who came to mind just now when you read the word friend?
✦ SEE ✦
I want to tell you about Tiffany. (top left)
I met her July 19, 2017, in Omaha at the CliftonStrengths Summit. We were building our Top 5 blocks and hit it off within thirty seconds — headed straight to dinner and drinks. Those hours kicked off a nine-year friendship and a deep mutual admiration. When I doubted myself, Tiff would stop me and ask: “Why not you, Stac?” “You can do it, Bud.” “You are worthy of all the good.”
Last summer we had a girls’ weekend just outside Niagara Falls. We laughed until we cried. We had hard conversations. We saw Air Supply in concert, screamed about ants in the kitchen, ate magnificent food. And we knew — even as we tried not to say it out loud — that it might be our last time together.
And, it was.
This past Monday morning, on FaceTime, we shared our last smiles. Our last laughs. Our last I love yous. We blew kisses. And I told her what she meant to me with everything I had, and that was it, she was gone – less than eight hours later.
“Because I knew you, I have been changed for good.” – Wicked
And then I want to tell you about Kim. (bottom right)
In High School we were candy stripers together — she, Mandy, Tiffany, and I — showing up every week at the hospital like it was the most natural thing in the world. Because for Kim, it was. Loving people was just who she was. Over the years she poured herself into her “little people” as a teacher. The legacy she leaves is deep and vast. I see her dancing into heaven with her Mrs. Roper style clothing, smiling from ear to ear.
Two friends. Both 48. Both gone in one week.
_______________________________
And yet — in that same week — there was Gail. (bottom left)
Gail and I have been friends for 43 years. Since we were five years old. This week I sat around her kitchen table with her and her mom, the three of us laughing, we felt like we were fifteen again. Then we did her laundry together. We loaded wood onto the gator to put in the stove. We giggled, encouraged each other, looked each other in the eyes, hugged tight, and told ridiculous stories and the hours disappeared.
It felt like home. It felt like security. It felt safe in the way that only someone who has known you your whole life can make you feel safe – like they are oxygen for your soul.
That is Gail. Fun, funny, joyous. An encourager to her core. One of the loveliest people I know.
And there was Jodie. (top right)
Jodie and I have been friends for 33 years — since I was fifteen.
When we got together for brunch this week, there was no catching up to do, no awkward reentry. It just flowed, the way it always does with her. We honor each other. We match each other’s energy. We honor our shared love for Jesus. It is easy and it is deep and it is the kind of friendship that asks nothing of you except to show up as yourself.
_______________________________
Here is what I SEE when I hold all of it together:
Female friendship is one of the most profound gifts we are given. It is built in coffee shops and cancer wards, over macarons in Toronto and candy stripes in hospital hallways. It is built in thirty-second connections at conferences and in farmhouse kitchens, loading wood onto gators and over brunch that stretches across hours because neither of you wants to leave.
It is not guaranteed. It is not infinite. And it is not something to take for granted for a single day.
✦ BREATHE ✦
Grief is not the opposite of gratitude. They live together. They have to.
I am grieving Tiffany and Kim. I am also profoundly, achingly grateful for every hour I had with each of them.
Tiffany taught me to choose joy. Kim showed me that loving people is not a task – it’s a way of being.
And Gail and Jodie – those women who have known me since I was a child, who have seen me at my worst and loved me anyway – they are still here. Still showing up. Still loading wood and ordering brunch and making space for Jesus and laughter in the same conversation. That is not something small. That is everything.
This week I also held in my heart two friends who are in the tender, exhausting season of watching a parent decline. I didn’t have answers for them. I just prayed and stayed close. Because sometimes friendship isn’t about having the right words – it’s about being willing to keep vigil with someone in the waiting – near or far.
And I celebrated a friend who bought her first home. We squealed and said all the things you say when someone you love steps into something they’ve worked for and dreamed of. Joy like that – the kind you feel for someone else – is one of the purest things friendship offers.
Grief. Vigil. Celebration. All of it, friendship. All of it, this week.
So, take this moment.
Breathe In: I am grateful for the people who have stayed.
Breath out: I will not wait to tell them so.
✦ GROW ✦
Your invitation this week is simple and it is urgent.
Think of one woman – a friend who has known you for years, who has shown up when it was inconvenient, who makes you feel like yourself. And send her this message today. Right now, before you close this email.
You can copy and paste it exactly as written if you would like:
Hey. I was thinking about you today. Not for any reason – just because you came to mind and I realized I haven’t told you lately what you mean to me. I’m grateful for you. For who you are. For the way you’ve shown up in my life. I don’t want to wait until it’s too late to say it: Because I know you, I have been changed for good. Love you friend.
_______________________________
Don’t wait. Life is tender. Send it today.
“Be strong and live free. Please be kind to. yourself and others.” – Tiffany
With Big Hugs and So Much Love,
Stacy
Stacy Bergman
Founder and Head Coach, Brisalo
Always Rooting For You!
Brisalo Coaching & Wedding Services
Brisalo exists to help women stop performing for others and start trusting themselves. You’re receiving this because you signed up for The Gentle Pause. To unsubscribe please respond to this message and you will be removed, no questions asked.
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March 1, 2026 | Brisalo | The Gentle Pause — Issue 05,2026
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