The days leading up to where we find ourselves I honestly felt strong, for the most part. I didn’t feel I was going to fall apart when it arrived. I didn’t anticipate the tears streaming down my face the moment I read the caption on the sweet snapchat I received on my morning walk. Those tears needed to flow, they really did. It’s okay and I’m grateful my dear friend touched base with me.
The back and forth moments of whether I should post on social media to recognize she isn’t forgotten. If I do is that me not moving forward? Will others feel obligated to acknowledge the loss of my mother, even though I don’t expect it? Am I opening pain for my siblings and her grandchildren?
That’s why you find me writing on my blog.
Grief is a thing that is sometimes hard to grasp and even harder to control. It will smack you in the face or makes a suttle appearance, depending on it’s plan.
Words are not coming easily for me. So here.
I miss my Mom.
I had a pretty good day since I spent it with four of my favorite people in the whole wide world. FAMILY. Mom would have liked that. She always loved her family together.
I’m heading to work on a quilt and have some quiet time alone. I’ll think of her I’m sure. Not only today but tomorrow and the next day and so forth. I just have to keep moving forward. Through the grief and through life. Better to have loved than not have loved at all.
I came home to find flowers from my husband and youngest daughter and a piece of snail mail from a friend. Life is sometimes really hard and filled with sadness and anxiety. But the glimmer of hope is still there, it lies within the area around us. It may not be in our view at the moment but it is there.
It’s coming back into my view. Tiny bit by tiny bit. Perhaps tomorrow. Yes, probably tomorrow.
This post was held for publishing until I was over the six month mark of my health journey. I had to feel mostly confident and positive progress before sharing. In my life, too many times, I’ve started something only to feel I failed. This time needed to be different and so far it is. Six months was goal number one.
If you care to follow the series just subscribe to receive emails in the top left corner of this blog.
Those minor changes I mentioned in my 2017 word post began on January 3rd, but reality hit when I received the call about my A1C number in December. (Diabetes) The reality of trying to fill my pain, grief, sadness, anger and lack of confidence with food (and sedentary actions) has brought about a not so lovable thing. Hold tight… more on that in a moment.
Those conversations I mentioned before in this post, well they were not life changing but they changed me enough to feel free. It felt as though someone was finally listening to me and although in a quiet manner the results helped me take a baby step towards feeling less alone. That tiny bit of support where I felt I could say out loud feelings I had felt ashamed of having , actually enabled me.
So now I will share with you in hopes that if you ever find yourself in a similar situation you know you aren’t alone.
But first a few things I need to get out.
I don’t completely understand why I was so affected by the death of my parents. Why it knocked me so far down.
It’s not like I was super close to either of them or saw them all the time. It’s not like I grew up in a cozy happy situation.
Okay, I do know one reason. It’s because I’m out of time.
Out of time to ask those questions. Ask the questions that make people uncomfortable and aren’t pretty. The ones that could give me answers or explain why things happened to me. Silence can be a killer in itself I think sometimes.
I loved them.
No matter what happened in life, I loved them. They were the parents that created me.
Why didn’t they take better care of themselves?
Who am I to talk, look where I am now.
That freeing I spoke of earlier, it came when I said out loud, to my spouse, the part about time running out to ask the questions. That was a turning point for me.
All those words you just read were written a few month ago, but they still resonate with me. They still bring forward to my mind that the path I am now on is one that is really important. I’ve held off blogging about this part of my life for fear of failure, and afraid those that see me often will watch my plate each time I fill it. (like they have nothing else to do, right?)
I’m ready to share now. Maybe it’s because I’ve met with my Diabetes Educator a few times. Actually, it’s because I feel more in control then I have in a few years. Whatever the reason I’m not going to force myself to journal but I will write when necessary about DOWN WITH THE D. In hopes that it will help others and yes even keep me on track for life.
Down with the D Series # 2 – 5 will be published soon. Subscribe so you can read the next step in the series as at this moment I don’ t feel comfortable sharing on my personal social media pages.
In my life I have one particular small group of girlfriends that I like to think of as my “prayer-go-to-gals.” They are the first ones I think of when I am in need of a prayer, which by the the way is often. Whether it’s a joy to celebrate or a struggle of uncertainty, they have my back. I know without a doubt they will pray. Whether they do it during their daily devotions or at that very moment real quick-like, I can count on them. As I hope they know they can with me.
In this group, I was the first to lose both my parents, not exactly something I wanted to be first place in but hey, someone has to be first! These ladies rallied behind me, allowed me to write long posts and fervently prayed. Now as one of the other ladies is in the midst of going through the first days of losing her mother I find myself empathizing.
The thing is although I’ve walked through familiar territory I can’t find the words. The words that let her know I understand. The feelings inside me aren’t of me missing my parents necessarily it’s more of wanting to “care for” and almost protect my friend. No two people are alike and her situation is different but there are similarities. Mostly just the act of having a parent die. I’ve seen a glimpse of the road that lies ahead.
I want my friend to know that even though I may not say many words I am praying. I also have ears open to listen or eyes to read texts and my mouth will be shut. And if she needs a bag of chips, a jar of salsa, a pepsi, and/or a snickers bar I’m her gal! I’m only a text away and I deliver!
If you find yourself in the midst of not knowing what to say to someone, just hug. As you hug, say a quick prayer. That’s what I did last night. God bless you my friend.
Today marks one year since my mother passed away. I had a restless night of sleep, by morning my anxiety level was pretty high. I don’t know if it was due to the anniversary of something so hard or the depression or the fact that I’m traveling this weekend.
I’m heading out to spend the weekend away from home with some girlfriends. At the time of scheduling the trip I thought it would be a good idea for me to be away from home. I still feel that way – mostly. Honestly I always get anxious about traveling due to a medical issue I have. I know being away from home won’t make me forget but perhaps a nice distraction and opportunity to relax.
After taking my daughter to school I spent the morning in my kitchen. As I have stated before, cooking seems to be my therapy. Maybe it calms me because I can control what goes in when and it can be done in a certain order. All the while anticipating something good coming out of my actions. I don’t have to talk or feel or think of anything else while pouring the ingredients into the metal bowl. I even thought of my mom while baking the cake. It wasn’t sad but glad she was such a good cook and baker. A gift she shared with me.
The weekend away is needed for more than one reason and I know I will enjoy the laughter, comradity, and memories made with my friends. Although I won’t be able to control the ingredients that will make up this wonderful time, I can participate with as much as I can muster.
The weekend away was enjoyable and good for me. I felt up and down throughout the weekend. I haven’t laughed that much for so long. And I needed that. The laughter with girlfriends is so very awesome! Thank you to my friends that spent time with me and also listened when I did share my feelings.
I’m actually publishing this on September 3rd, what would have been my mother’s birthday. But no more birthdays exist for her. No more angel food cakes or family gathering to celebrate her life. I did get to spend the morning with my two sisters and visit with my brother on the phone. That was a good way to spend my day. A really good way.
Tomorrow is another day. Another step forward. Another opportunity to reach for something better, smile more, laugh alot, and hug those around me. I’m grateful.
No one tells you how different it will be. And if they do, you probably won’t be able to wrap your head around it or believe them. I really didn’t realize the connection that my mother made for me and the rest of my extended family. A connection that wasn’t so obvious to me at the time but is now upon our gathering together in her absence.
It was the way you didn’t want to leave when we had family gatherings. Where sitting around her large oval dinner table with lots of food, laughing, and enjoying the antics of a cousin, niece, or nephew. Or more than likely Mom saying something outlandish, flirting with an in-law, or encouraging a little one to crawl up in her lap.
I can’t really describe it to you.
We’ve had a couple of gatherings since her passing one year ago and it’s not the same.
Even though she may not have been the instigator of the memory made or the antic occurring it was still relevant to the connection of her. We still laugh together, eat together, and celebrate family moments but it’s not the same.
To be honest, my biggest fear is losing connection with my siblings. Not the love for one another but the gift that was given to us through being raised together.
I once had a friend that knew us while growing up and then I didn’t see him for many years. In conversation all those years later, he admitted that he was always impressed with the closeness/bond that our family had. Primarily talking about my siblings, my mom, and myself. I remember stating and thinking that I never felt we had that much of a closeness. At least not any more than any other family I knew. That observation from the outside made me feel lucky though. And with the death of both our parents it’s made me realize how true it is.
Today as I remember that memory I celebrate the extended family that was given to me. The bond created in family isn’t always from joyous moments, dinners around the table, or cheering at ballgames together. Sometimes it’s created by too much yelling and witnessing bad things or sleeping in a car periodically. Sometimes it’s from just living in the house together with those that know what no one else knows.
Whatever creates the bond, it’s important to hold on to it. There’s no bringing our mother back, but I have three people in my life that can remember her with me and who know what I’m talking about when I say I miss her.
It will take all four of us to continue to nourish the bond/relationships and to be an example to our own children. I pray daily for them and I look forward to the future of our family.
It’s here. Year 2. The anniversary of the death of my Dad. I wouldn’t say it’s easier this year but it’s different. I think part of it is that I know what is around the corner. Last year I had no clue that my pain in the area of death and parents would become so tremendous. I didn’t know that it would bring me to a place where the darkness could almost win out.
This year around the corner is the one year anniversary of my mother’s death. One year and nine days after the death of my Dad my mother passed away. So the days between August 17th and the 26th are ones I am just keeping my head above water so to speak. Oh let me just be honest, the entire month so far hasn’t been easy for me.
I didn’t know that the death of my parents would affect me so much. I’ve had issues with depression but only once in my life had it ever been at this degree. At the moment, today it’s been a good day. I got some very joyous news on the 17th which has kept the darkness at bay. It’s still there underlying but I can function without feeling overwhelmed. The joyous news doesn’t take away the truth, the hurt, the grief, the depression 100%, but it has brought me to look at things a little differently. To smile and focus on something spectacular.
Today my dad would have been 77 years old. He died two days before his 75th birthday. The birthdays have stopped. The tremendous hugs are gone. The hearing him tell me I’m “lookin’ good” is only a flicker of memory now. I have photographs, memories, and time. I’m grateful for the memories and the photographs.
Tomorrow will be spent with extended family. I’m looking forward to being surrounded by people that loved both my parents as much as me. I hope we can remember old times and make new memories they’d be proud of.
Today I celebrate the gifts that my Dad gave me. Rest in peace.
I’m back at spending time in God’s word daily. I had been away for quite sometime. The attempts were there to get back to it but it didn’t stick. I have to admit when I spend some quiet time in God’s word in the morning it helps for me to be calm. I’m back at actually writing my prayers out and making a short grateful list. I can feel some of the darkness fall away bit by ever so small bit. It’s only day 2 but I need to acknowledge the good things more often to retain them in my mind I’ve decided.
The devotion for today was fitting for my life as well. Luke 8: 22-25 , do you know it? If not, click on it and take a gander. It’s simple but boy did I need that reminder. My storm has subsided at times but it’s still an ever present rain many days. So, hearing this simple story of Jesus taking care of things and having faith was a gentle push to the thoughts I need to be having.
That even though our financial situation isn’t great, God will take care of us. Although I can’t shake the darkness and the new medicine has some really yucky side effects when starting, it will be okay because no matter what He’s got my back. That even though my faith has been shaken and I wasn’t the true follower I needed to be in the past couple years, HE STILL LOVES ME. GOD FORGIVES. He has always and will always have me my back.
I know there will be days when I falter but I am given the opportunity to start again. That’s all I can do. Start again.
Pushing towards the light of grace but it’s freely given,
You know that thing going around Facebook, the Love Your Spouse Challenge? Well I was cringing every time I got onto Facebook because I figured one of my friends would nominate me eventually. It happened. I’m on day 3 by the way. Until today I didn’t post anything gushy with the picture, just the facts of when it was taken. In fact, I didn’t get real gushy today but it was more wordy and the truth. It’s a start, right?
Oh sure. I could have just not did it but then the facade of our marriage might be in jeopardy! The view of my life from the outlet of social media in danger! Don’t act like you don’t think this way (on occasion). We want others to think and believe that our lives are beautiful and picture worthy and that the ugly never enters. It does. The ugly makes it appearance and it brings you to your knees. To the point of “get me outta here!” Which in reality means get in my car, go for a long drive, and turn up some Aerosmith or Zac Brown Band or something of that nature.
Disclaimer here – I love my husband but it takes more than love to make a marriage work. Divorce isn’t in our language so don’t go telling others our marriage is over please. Just wanted that documented.
Struggling times, problem times, hiccup in the road times. Whatever you want to call them – happen in marriage. It’s the ugly truth and hiding it I suppose is the “norm”, sometimes I just wanna buck the norm! Sometimes I don’t want to feel alone in this struggle after 13 years of marriage. The frustration. The loneliness. The anger. The sadness.
I’m an expressive person where my husband is not. I don’t necessarily need to share my dirty laundry with the world. Or perhaps I do since I’m blogging here today. Maybe I’m angry at the world because sharing your dirty laundry is frowned upon. Then again that would make me a hypocrite cause when I see some of the things posted on Facebook I want to reach through the computer screen and smack the person that posted it!
Do I seem a little feisty today? Yes I am but it’s milder than it was two days ago I promise. Perhaps snarky is a more accurate word. I don’t want depression, marriage issues, struggles, and grief to be something that people shy away from when seeing it in others. I don’t want to feel uncomfortable or have them uncomfortable. But I am.
When a couple of friends have reached out, I now feel embarrassed and ashamed. I feel like by now I should have it back together. That I should be happy with the newer house, the healthy kids, the hard-working husband, the easy job I have, and so much more.
They’re right. I should. This darkness won’t go away though. The heaviness that I feel is not dissipating. Although hearing God’s word yesterday did help. Then again this morning reading and writing in my prayer journal. It’s a start right?
Whether it’s depression or marriage issues or work issues or family issues hang on. If you are struggling out there know you are not alone. Others in this world are in the midst of something not so sweet and beautiful. The point is to move forward. Right now I feel like I’m stuck in a spot of mud but I know in the back of my mind I will get out. I will move forward to a better day, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, maybe in an hour. I don’t know when but it’s coming.
I will never taste the Spice Peaches or Macaroni salad again that her hands made. These are two of my favorite recipes that my Mom made as I grew up. I remember requesting her to make the peaches for Christmas often.
She loved peaches. She would eat them fresh with cream on them or in a peach pie. I love peaches too. That’s something nice to have in common with her.
When it struck me one afternoon that I would not be eating the food she made anymore tears began to fall. I clutched the book that held the recipe to my chest and just let the tears fall for a bit.
I can still smell the aroma of spiced peaches and the taste of the macaroni salad with cucumbers. (Another thing we both loved) Connection to our past can come in different forms. Whether it be with food, photographs, a song, poem, or holiday.
Although I wouldn’t want those connections to be gone, sometimes they are hard to handle. One must not stay in the mode of connection that brings them despair. If I stay in my grief, the treasure of the past will be eventually be forgotten. All there will be is sadness, despair, what if’s, or I should haves.
So, when those moments of connection occur, I will allow myself to wallow in them but eventually I will make my way out. For instance, on the afternoon those tears fell I found my way down a country road. To walk among the fall foliage and beautiful milo field. This gave me distance from the sadness, opportunity to clear my mind, and see that the treasure was just that. A treasure.
I’m not over my mother’s death or my father’s for that matter. I am just making my way through this journey called grief. I am managing my life the best I can with the tools provided to me. I’m not ignoring the past, the grief, or how much it hurts. I just will not allow it to rob my present life of the treasures that have been given to me. Having the joys God gave me is not something to throw away by living in the past.