Last week when I was posting to this blog I saw the following quote in the right hand column of the Widows Voice website.
“In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.” Albert Camus
Albert Camus died in 1960. His life was not easy. His father died when he was an infant and he was raised in extreme poverty. Camus’s mother was deaf and according to his writings, she was in a state of almost continuous melancholy. Camus himself contracted tuberculosis at age 17.
There lies all of us an “invincible summer”. We all have resources we do not know we have until our lives change in such a way that we must find them.
Still, I am taken back when someone in David's life has just learned of his death. How could they not have known??! Shouldn't anyone who had ever come in contact with him during his life have felt the earth pause the moment he passed away? As if the earth should have been altered if he no longer walked upon it. Dramatic, I know. It's the best way I can describe the disgust I feel when I'm told that someone is yet to hear of his passing. My world will never look the same again. Why should theirs?Read more
We often see or hear the phrase “Happy Anniversary”, don’t we? Venture into any card store and you’ll find an assortment of cards depicting the phrase “Happy Anniversary”. Fortunately, I did experience “Happy Anniversaries” in my marriage, and I could buy those cards, and for that I am grateful.
Tomorrow would have been my 15 year wedding anniversary. However, as my husband Rory’s death was 5 years ago today, Happy Anniversary is not in the cards. I doubt if I walked into a card store I could find “just the right card” to depict what these Anniversaries evoke.Read more
I've spent the holiday weekend in Cali with the other Michele and head back to Texas today. Although the weekend has been packed with activities (sushi night out, a long and beautiful walk, visits with family, a day at the beach, etc.), we've managed to cram in some fantastic talks and some really great quality time.Read more
I started to write something to honor the men we have lost in recognition of Memorial Day. Then I realized that I couldn't write anything more poignant or beautiful than what Nicole has already posted. And so I am re-posting her Thursday post with this addition...there are no words of thanks that adequately honor the sacrifices made by the men and women who serve in the military today, nor the families they leave behind when they make the ultimate sacrifice. The only thing I can think to say is that each of you are heroes, and we owe you a debt that can never be repaid. Taryn and Nicole...you honor the men you lost by your courage, your determination to make a difference, and your belief that love never dies, thank you. ~ Michele Neff HernandezRead more
I sometimes wonder what would happen if all the wishes people made on stars came true. Where would my life be today if my whims were met by the imaginary wish granter in the sky who hears the things our hearts whisper when we witness those flashes of light across the night sky? One thing is certain, my heart has definitely not been whispering over the last four years...I think a better description would be screaming or beseeching, or even howling. And the request? That I would wake up from this nightmare and discover that Phil isn't really dead. Seems pretty straightforward as far as wishes go.Read more
On my way to North Carolina, to sit next to a widowed fiancée who called our hotline and wanted another widow by her side, I stopped in Atlanta.
With all the travels I’ve been doing the past year I have come to terms with the face that I will see numerous amounts of men and women in ACUs. Today was the same. As I stood at the gate my ACU radar detected a man to my left waiting to board.Read more
I have been on my back for the last 3 weeks or so, nursing an inflamed sacroiliac joint. What a pain! Literally. Every turn and twist, every journey to the bathroom (all of 25 painful feet) and every trek to the kitchen elicits mild and not-so-mild expletives. Thankfully, my daughter is in school and the walls are my only witness.
Of course, lots of time on one's back allows for insights, welcome or unwelcome. I do wish these marvelous insights would happen when I was licking, say, a large, double chocolate ice cream cone instead of lying supine on an ice pack.
But no, my insights seem to come to me when I have finally over-done something or other (stacking wood, mowing the lawn... talking...) and have no choice but to cry "uncle" and finally settle down to listen to my body's teachings.
(Editor's note: Janine will be away for the next two weeks and we are happy to welcome visiting contributor Colleen Phillips as our Wednesday blogger in her absence. Thanks Colleen!)
A warm hello.
Since Rory died almost 5 years ago, it seems as if we have been trying to find our way, figure things out and be a family of “2”. Ryan, my son, had just turned 3 years old and I was 40. We had so much life to look forward to and we shared so much love in our home when it all came crashing down on May 27, 2004. Next Wednesday, it will be 5 years to the day Rory lost his battle with cancer. It literally feels like yesterday, that I saw, spoke with and touched Rory for the last time. In other ways it feels like a lifetime ago. I suppose that may be the way it will always be, but I don’t know…
For the past ten years, my vision of my happy place has been the same: a tiny beach on the island of Caye Caulker, Belize. Daniel and I spent 14 fantastic days there in the summer of 1999. At the worst of times when I have wanted to scream "calgon take me away"...this little oasis is the picture in my mind's eye. I haven't been back there since then and we always swore we would go. In 2000 we had Grayson, and life became so full that the trip took a backseat. We took plenty of other trips, just not that one.
This year is 10 years since my last visit to my happy place. I have been very tempted to go there in August, to celebrate what would have been our 17th wedding anniversary. That actually hurt to type. It's hard to believe it would be 17 years, I haven't seen him since 13. Damn death.Read more