WeSocialWork

The Legacy of Melanie Sage by H.H.

Laurel Hitchcock — Sat, 04 Jul 2026 10:55:23 +0000

(Co-created with ChatGPT in the style of David Whyte)

There are souls who do not enter a room
so much as soften its edges,
whose kindness arrives first
like light beneath a doorway.
Melanie Sage carried herself this way—
not as someone trying to be good,
but as someone who had quietly decided
long ago
that other people’s suffering
was never none of her business.
She understood the hidden weight
inside ordinary days,
how loneliness can sit beside a person
at a kitchen table,
or follow them home at night
without a sound.
And because she understood this,
she became careful with people.
Careful with their hearts.
Careful with their silences.
Careful with the ache
they tried not to show.
There was something steadfast in her compassion,
something that did not turn away
when life became inconvenient,
messy, or difficult.
She knew how to remain.
To remain present
when someone else was breaking.
To remain gentle
in a world that rewards hardness.
To remain open
even after disappointment.
This is its own form of devotion.
Not the loud devotion
of grand gestures,
but the daily and sacred practice
of showing up again and again
with open hands.
And perhaps this is what stays behind
after a life like hers—
not only memory,
but a kind of echo inside others,
a reminder
that tenderness is not weakness,
that empathy can be a way of walking through the world,
and that one person,
quietly loving people well,
can leave an imprint deeper
than they ever know.

~ by H.H.

For Melanie by Johanna Creswell Baez

Laurel Hitchcock — Sat, 04 Jul 2026 10:50:33 +0000

I met you at the first SWDE conference. Even then, I noticed your brilliance. I noticed your kindness. You welcomed me in.
You gave generously of your time.
You offered thoughtful mentoring from the very beginning.
You taught me about flipped pedagogy.
A year later, I presented on flipped pedagogy because of our conversations.
The room was packed. People lined the walls.
You were right.
I noted your brilliance.
I noted your kindness.
I was buying crab apple trees for the backyard with my mom when Marina’s email arrived.
I stopped.
I looked at those trees and thought about how much you would have marveled at them.
I could not believe it. Unimaginable. I cried as I paid for the trees and checked out.
I thought about your brilliance,
your warmth,
your care.
I thought about our collaborative writing. Wow, article of the year with Laurel.
I thought about the ideas we shared and the projects we collaborated on together.
I texted Matthea. And I found myself thinking about community and support in this lifetime.
I thought about you and Laurel sitting in the front row, cheering us on during our presentation in Panama. You didn’t have to do that, but you did.

I thought about how I always called you a social work tech goddess.
You had a gift for helping us imagine what was possible.

You were curious, creative, and generous with what you learned. I tuned in for the first part of your SWDE keynote last month, mostly just to provide that cheering back for you.
You were supportive.
You created spaces where I felt welcomed.
I smile thinking of you buying a fancy hot tub with your Meta paycheck. I remember cheering you on as you sat in that hot tub, soaking up a well-earned moment of rest.
For someone who spent so much time helping the rest of us imagine what was possible, it was nice to see you pause and enjoy a little of what you had built.
That was such a Melanie moment.

Brilliant. Funny. Human.

That is what remains with me now.
Not only your scholarship and brilliant ideas.
Not only your innovations.
Not only the ideas you shared so freely.
I remember the communities you built.
I remember the people you connected.
I remember the ways you showed up for others.
I remember your brilliance. I remember your kindness.
And I am grateful that our paths crossed.
I will keep amplifying your work. I will keep mentoring others.
And I will keep building the kinds of communities you taught us were possible.

Thanks, Johanna

~ by Johanna Creswell Báez

Melanie (left) and Laurel at Social Work Conference in Panama

Thank You for Helping Me by Laura Bullock

Laurel Hitchcock — Sat, 04 Jul 2026 10:45:09 +0000

I didn’t know if I would find what I was looking for
when I asked.

I didn’t know what I had in me
before someone recognized it,
before I was told to keep going,
allowed to not make any sense,
to create a mess,
and to find the rules within it.

The point of life is each other.
The hard work is internal.

I used to be afraid to ask for help,
to reveal what that I didn’t know,
until someone sat with me to look at big questions,
consider theoretical answers,
and believe they were worth taking a shot at.

I didn’t know how much one person
can change how you see yourself.

How you can grow from encouragement, support.

I always felt so lucky,
and then I was told
that we make our own luck.

You taught me how to trust myself.

Big questions matter.
No one is hiding the answer.

That I might be the one to find it,
and others are there to help.

~ By Laura Bullock

Some people enter your life by Donna Kim

Laurel Hitchcock — Sat, 04 Jul 2026 10:40:31 +0000

Some people enter your life
to change its direction.

Others arrive
to expand it.

You taught me
that I was never beginning again,
only continuing
as a fuller version of myself.

You always smiled
as if life still had something left to reveal.
And with you,
We never knew what was next.

We still had plans
to see each other in June,
somewhere in Times Square,
still moving forward
as if there would always be more time.

Maybe that is why your absence
feels impossible to place.

A force never really disappears.
It only continues
through the people they awakened.

~ By Donna Kim

You opened doors by Marina A. Badillo-Diaz

Laurel Hitchcock — Sat, 04 Jul 2026 10:35:03 +0000

You opened doors without hesitation,
shared your knowledge generously,
and helped people find their voice in this field.

When I entered the world of technology and social work,
you welcomed me into the conversation,
encouraged collaboration,
pushed my thinking, and expanded my reach.

I am grateful for every conversation, every project,
and every opportunity to learn alongside you.

Your contribution has been cut short;
however, your legacy lives on in the people you mentored,
the ideas you inspired,

~ By Marina A. Badillo-Diaz

untitled by Gina Griffin

Laurel Hitchcock — Sat, 04 Jul 2026 10:30:44 +0000

I need to go to sleep.

My mind won’t let me.

The minutes slip away

and night escapes,

This should be peaceful.

The AC hums through a

muggy Florida night.

The dog snores blissfully,

his face pressed between

my shoulder blades.

And the dark creates

a cocoon where I

can float,

Untethered from the

person that I am during

the day.

I spend the day talking.

I spend the day gathering

the fears and thoughts

and dreams of the hopeful

The tears and thoughts

and fears of the hopeless.

I spin these into cords

that they can use

to find a way to climb out.

But at night, the wheel

hums for me.

I get up and spin

on my own back porch.

I have to find my own

way of never-ending

escape.

This work is quiet

And sometimes

lonely.

I had a friend

once.

She also worked

through the night,

spinning her own path

to peace and calm

and self.

I could hear her wheel

humming across the way,

from her own back porch,

the treadle creaking

with effort.

We’d call out from time

to time

To see how the work

was going

to see if skeins were

piling up.

To see if the other

was okay.

But mostly, we’d spin

in friendly silence.

It was enough to know that

someone was there.

Until they were not.

And the silence is

so loud

now.

And I spin through

the early hours

alone.

And the other wheel

sits empty.

~ by Dr. Gina Griffin, DSW, MSW, LCSW

“Melanie” (In Loving Memory of Dr. Melanie Sage, LCSW) by Silas Kelly

Laurel Hitchcock — Sat, 04 Jul 2026 10:25:48 +0000

Let’s take a minute to say her name

“Melanie” Sounds kind of like “Melody”,

You know like a Symphony

And if I said that, you know I wouldn’t be wrong

You see she lived her life like a heartfelt song.

She was daring, caring and always working towards the better

Like sitting down at the height of the pandemic and writing “A Love Letter”

And not only was she a melody, you know like a symphony

She was also a pioneer, connecting Social Work to Technology

And talking about the “Stages of Change” would really start her mind brewing

Then she’d dropped pearls of wisdom about “Motivational Interviewing”

She also brought book knowledge full circle for all the world to see

Co-editing and story-telling those “101 Things You Can Do With a Social Work Degree”

So, we were graced with her presence and I can say this true and plain

Thank you Dr. Melanie Sage your life was not in vain.

~ By Silas W. Kelly, LCSW (AKA –“Silas, Your E-Journalism Social Work Advocate) May 30, 2026

The Helper by Beth Counselman-Carpenter

Laurel Hitchcock — Sat, 04 Jul 2026 10:20:29 +0000

*note – this is most definitely a ‘not-poem’, but I think Melanie would appreciate and laugh about a poem that doesn’t remotely resemble poetry….

Mr. Rogers always told kids to look for the helpers.

Melanie, you were the ultimate helper.

You always took time to thoughtfully answer; respectfully connect and to be a woman who raised up other women early in the field.

You were an artist, a mother, a wife, a friend, a scholar, a mentor and quite simply, pure light.

In our first conversation, I walked away knowing about your love for your husband (peanut butter & jelly), about your desire to create, and your incredible work ethic to improve the lives of others – not about your research agenda or details of your CV.

It was always a privilege to sit next to you at our SWtech conference dinners because I always walked away richer in knowledge and laughter than I had been before I sat down.

Over the past 9 years. I looked forward to grappling with all of the thoughtful questions you posed in our group chat and navigating the shared horror we’ve experienced in the past 18 months. I find myself checking my phone expecting to see your next message – whether it was an article to read, a rabbit hole to dive down, or a picture of your newest badass tattoo.

You belong here with us, Melanie. In the simplest terms, I’m so damn sad and mad that we will not grow old in this world together and be wizened old crones in whatever the future holds.

I will quite simply, always think of you. Every time I publish something – as part of a trio that gave me my first scholarly writing break – you’ll be a part of all that comes next. When I get my new tattoo in Japan in a few weeks – thinking of all the beautiful ink you wore with pride; when I learn a new craft – like all of the jewelry you created and shared, and when the next generation of social workers begins to spread their wings – I was always pause, provide that resource, and share my knowledge.

Because I learned from one of the best.

You were a gift to all of us and how we all wish you could have stayed.

There will be no filling the Melanie-shaped hole in our universe. But your spirit, energy and kindness will always be a piece of my heart. To quote the Golden Girls…thank you for being a friend.

~Beth Counselman-Carpenter

for Melanie by Jimmy Young

Laurel Hitchcock — Sat, 04 Jul 2026 10:15:51 +0000

From tweets to handshakes,

screens to conference halls —

always pushing the profession forward,

toward technology used ethically and well,

where digital and human were never opposites,

but open to possibilities, creativity, and connection.

As social workers, we smile and laugh

at a profession slow to perceive

what we already knew and dared to achieve.

You literally wrote the book on it.

And we are still reading,

still learning,

still trying to believe.

Thank you for showing us the way.

– Jimmy Young

REMEMBERING MELANIE by Linda Grobman

Laurel Hitchcock — Sat, 04 Jul 2026 10:10:00 +0000

I remember Melanie.

A kind, creative social worker.

A friend and quintessential colleague.

I will miss her presence.

~ Linda Grobman