Holland & Bonine Funeral Home

09/14/2026

It is okay to sit at the bedside and say nothing at all… and just be present for that person, especially when they are actively dying.

Sometimes it is the silence that offers peace, and permission to let go with grace.

Sometimes there are too many things said at this time, and I imagine it is a lot to take in for that person who is dying.

When those last breaths are taken, they know you are there, I believe that with every ounce of my being. Trust that.

There is something quite peaceful and beautiful when you sit still and offer someone else a quiet space to let go.

xo
Gabby

09/11/2026

Where were you on 9/11?

09/10/2026

09/08/2026

You can't stop me now
A poem by Gabby Jimenez

Do not mistake my age
for my ending,
I am not fading,
I am not shrinking,
I am not quietly stepping aside
so the world can pretend
I was never here.

No, sweetheart...
I am just getting started.

I have lived through things
that tried to soften my voice,
dim my light,
bend my back,
break my spirit.

And yet, here I am...

Still standing,
Still laughing,
Still learning,
Still choosing,
Still becoming,

Fifty did not make me invisible,
It made me clearer.

Sixty will not make me less.

Seventy will not erase me.

Eighty will not quiet the woman
who has spent a lifetime
earning every word she speaks.

With every year
I have gathered more truth,
More courage,
More wisdom,
More of myself,

And if that makes some people uncomfortable,
well…
they will have to adjust.

I am no longer asking the world
to tell me what I am worth.

I know now.

I know the value
of every hard day I survived,
every mistake that taught me,
every loss that shaped me,
every joy that found me again.

I know that I have made a difference,
even in the quiet ways...

A kind word,
A hand held,
A door opened,
A child encouraged,
A friend reminded that
they were not alone.

That counts.
I count.
And so do you.

We have come this far,
not by accident,
not by luck alone,
but by grit,
grace,
humor,
and a very impressive ability
to keep going,
even when our knees had other plans.

So here we are.
Older?
Yes.
Wiser?
Absolutely.
Done?
Not even close.

Our voices are not fading,
They are rising.

Our worth is not decreasing,
It is deepening.

Our lives are not behind us,
They are still unfolding.

And from here on out,
we will not apologize
for taking up space,
speaking our truth,
changing our minds,
choosing ourselves,
or celebrating the women
we fought so hard to become.

We are visible,
We are valuable,
We are powerful,
And we are still here.

So make room,
Because I (we) have come this far,
and you can’t stop me (us) now.

xo
Gabby

09/07/2026

Grief has a way of returning when we least expect it—a familiar song, a memory, or a quiet moment can make the loss feel new all over again. The mind may understand that someone is gone, but the heart takes its own time learning how to live with their absence.

09/02/2026

September is Su***de Awareness Month. 🎗️

Change the Narrative. Asking for help is a sign of strength, not weakness. Our mission readiness depends on our personal readiness, and that includes our mental health.

Did you know? Over 99% of service members who seek psychological care early experience no career impact. You do not have to carry the pack alone.

📞 If you or someone you know is struggling with thoughts of su***de, call or text 988. Support is free, confidential, and available 24/7.

Over the next few weeks, we will be sharing resources, tools, and support contacts. Stay tuned, check on your battle buddies, and remember—we stand together.

***dePrevention

https://www.mtpr.org/montana-news/2020-06-10/new-mental-health-emphasis-provides-a-lifeline-for-national-guard-soldiers

08/26/2026

When you show up for someone who is declining, whether from age or illness, you may never fully know the weight of your presence. Yours might be the last eyes they look into, the last hands they hold, the last voice they hear … all of which reminds them they are not alone. That isn’t meant to feel heavy or overwhelming. It’s simply a reminder of how much meaning can live in an ordinary moment when one human sits beside another and says, without rushing, “I see you.”

It doesn’t matter what your role is. You could be a family member, a friend, a neighbor, a volunteer, a caregiver, or part of a hospice team. What matters is the way you enter the room. The way you meet their eyes. The way you hold their hand gently, without fear, letting them know they are still worthy of touch, still worthy of being seen. Sometimes the most powerful words are the simplest ones: “I’m really glad to be here with you today. It’s good to see you.”

When you walk out their door, you may not know if it’s the last time you will ever see them again. So, what you leave behind matters. Your calm. Your kindness. Your willingness to be present. These moments don’t require grand gestures or perfect words, just your honest presence. And more often than not, that presence becomes a quiet gift, one that lingers long after you have gone.

xo
Gabby