Hey Guys, came upon these at another great blog site . I especially like 4 and 6. Take care, TRead more
It’s been 812 days since I last kissed my angel. After she was diagnosed, we were lucky to live life large for 850 days. Like so many other difficult things (dealing with chemo treatments, watching her deteriorate over time, holding her that day, her death, living without her), it is so hard to get my head around how much time has passed; it’s been nearly as many days as I’ve coped with It happening as days we coped with It coming, denial and all.Read more
One of the questions I've asked myself frequently since Jeff's death is "Am I ready and do I want to date?"
Aside from the need for physical contact, I can't say that in the first year I was at all ready for "dating". Last year, my second year of widowhood, I thought I was. With trepidation and large amount of humility, I took a look at online dating.
Every Sunday it happens.
I go into my office to print out the grocery list.
And find myself on the computer
something that will ease the unease.
I took part in a 10K race the other week. can’t say that I ran. Technically, I did run…for about ten steps. Then I walked. I couldn’t run because I was overly prepared.
I was afraid that I would get thirsty. That I may trip and need a bandaid. That I may require a dab of sunscreen or lip balm aside from the initial application pre-race. That I may lose consciousness and need my ID for emergency personel. A snack in order to keep my blood sugar up. I kept all of this essential equipment stashed in my very stylish fanny pack. Yes, you may laugh but I was ready for any emergency.Read more
Pictures of me in my current state of happiness make me nervous. I look at this photo with a sense of wonder at the fact that my smile looks genuine. The empty look that has shadowed my features for years appears to have faded. I am tempted to compare this photo to one of my "before" photos to see if I can tell the difference between these versions of my happy self. Will the scars of loss be somehow visible? Is the shadow of death really gone, or is it just lying in wait?Read more
My minivan has a back-up beeper installed and I never fail to wear safety goggles when required.
I realize that teenagers at the bus stop snicker as I stride by sporting my safety vest covered in all it's reflective glory and a red light flashing out a constant reminder of the whereabouts of my hind-end.
And in the past, I would have worried that this safety gear would identify me as a complete dork. A safety freak. Now I see it as protecting my kids.Read more
Like it was yesterday, I remember the night Daniel died and the drive home from the hospital. The drive home to G, who was innocently sleeping, still unaware that life as he knew it had radically altered. I remember talking myself through telling him what had happened. I remember feeling so sick to my stomach and so anxious. I knew that the next few moments would be something he remembered his whole life, and I knew I couldn't mess it up.Read more
Since the death of Jeff, I am ALWAYS searching for reason or explanation for each occurrence that unfolds in my life. I have become adept at looking for, and most often finding, the "bright side". Searching out the blessings. The gifts that, however difficult to see initially, reveal themselves as the shock of trauma wears away.Read more