Friday, February 24, 2017
Sunday, January 8, 2017
Friday, June 24, 2016
"I don't know whether I should kiss you or not",
as your mouth found mine.
I remember that first kiss, and the last kiss, and all the kisses inbetween.
12,775 days. So how many kisses?
The last time you kissed me was two days before you left. You were so frail and unable to move at all. To be near you, I had gotten in the habit of crawling into your hospital bed, here in our living room, and without placing any weight upon you, I would straddle your failing body, and bury my face in the pillow at your neck. You had been in a deep sleep for all of the night and most of the day, probably visiting other worlds, as you used to say. I raised my head to look at you and your eyes were open. Then, in the most heroic display of strength, you raised your upper body and kissed me. Twice.
The shadow in the mist could have been anyone.
But it wasn't.
It was always you.
Sunday, March 27, 2016
Sunday, March 20, 2016
Sunday, January 31, 2016
Saturday, December 6, 2014
been able to breathe without you for one year…indeed through God’s wisdom in
making breathing part of the autonomic system, in that we have no choice
but to breathe…He knew better than to leave it up to us. Alone, I
would not have had the strength nor the courage to take that first breath in as
you left this world on your last breath out. Oh Holy Night, one year ago, when
Heaven bowed down to touch earth so that the Angels could cross over to
accompany you Home. I envision in my soul’s eye, our unborn, yet Sainted
children, Michael and Gabrielle, greeting you. Although my own Mother had told
me that Jesus, The Christ, always greets children into heaven, somehow I have
pictured Him greeting you, with one child on each side. I am in need of no
proof, for I witnessed you and the cats constantly gazing at the space above the
Christmas tree, having wordless conversations with those who had already left
us. The house was heavy with the weight of their presence the entire last month
of your life here in Time and Space. It was then that I learned of The Weight
animal…I have bellowed in agony, like that mama cow we passed in the snow on the
side of the road on the way to Purgatory, whose calf lay dead in the gutter. We
were both deeply moved by the sight of an animal grieving inconsolably for her
loss. In desperation, I have curled up on the floor in the corner where your
hospital bed was, the exact spot where you left, and have tried to breathe you
back into me. I have placed my hand inside your ski glove and held my other
hand with closed eyes, imaging your hand, those hands, that I still
know by heart, holding mine. I have opened your closet door to run my hands
over your shirts, hanging empty on the hooks…trying to understand how we
can be over. Intellectually, I understand you had to leave your body
and that even I gave you permission to do so, yet my heart wants what
it has wanted since the first moment our eyes met; YOU. I still want you. I
still want to be us.
even greater in death; for I love you purely, "I bow to the God within you", or
"The Spirit within me salutes the Spirit in you" - a knowing that we are all
made from the same One Divine Consciousness. I was correct for 35 years in
signing every card to you, “I love you to Eternity”.
husband, is given up on life. I honor my promise to you; I will be okay, but I
will never get over you.
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Rather than focus on my losses today, I have chosen to focus on my many blessings.
Love at first sight; mid-tour leave from Iraq, home on the 4th of July, meeting your newborn daughter for the very first time.
Happy Father's Day, Son.
You have made your Dad so proud by honoring his final words to you;
"Be a good man; always do the right thing."
Friday, June 13, 2014
Written by Dr. Virgina A. Simpson in “What Grieving People Want You
To Know.” http://www.drvirginiasimpson.com
How you can help me
Please talk about my loved one, even though he is gone. It is more
comforting to cry than to pretend that he never existed. I need to talk
about him, and I need to do it over and over.
Be patient with my agitation. Nothing feels secure in my world. Get
comfortable with my crying. Sadness hits me in waves, and I never know
when my tears may flow. Just sit with me in silence and hold my hand.
Don’t abandon me with the excuse that you don’t want to upset me. You
can’t catch my grief. My world is painful, and when you are too afraid
to call me or visit or say anything, you isolate me at a time when I
most need to be cared about. If you don’t know what to say, just come
over, give me a hug or touch my arm, and gently say, “I’m sorry.” You
can even say, “I just don’t know what to say, but I care, and want you
to know that.”
Just because I look good does not mean that I feel good. Ask me how I
feel only if you really have time to find out.
I am not strong. I’m just numb. When you tell me I am strong, I feel
that you don’t see me.
I will not recover. This is not a cold or the flu. I’m not sick. I’m
grieving and that’s different. My grieving may only begin 6 months after
my loved one’s death. Don’t think that I will be over it in a year. For
I am not only grieving his death, but also the person I was when I was
with him, the life that we shared, the plans we had for watching our
children and grandchildren grow, the places we will never get to go together, and the
hopes and dreams that will never come true. My whole world has crumbled
and I will never be the same.
I will not always be grieving as intensely, but I will never forget my
loved one and rather than recover, I want to incorporate his life and
love into the rest of my life. He is a part of me and always will be,
and sometimes I will remember him with joy and other times with a tear.
Both are okay.
I don’t have to accept the death. Yes, I have to understand that it has
happened and it is real, but there are some things in life that are just
When you tell me what I should be doing, then I feel even more lost and
alone. I feel badly enough that my loved one is dead, so please don’t
make it worse by telling me I’m not doing this right.
Please don’t tell me I can find someone else or that I need to start
dating again. I’m not ready. And maybe I don’t want to. And besides,
what makes you think people are replaceable? They aren’t. Whoever comes
after will always be someone different.
I don’t even understand what you mean when you say, “You’ve got to get
on with your life.” My life is going on, I’ve been forced to take on
many new responsibilities and roles. It may not look the way you think
it should. This will take time and I will never be my old self again. So
please, just love me as I am today, and know that with your love and
support, the joy will slowly return to my life. But I will never forget
and there will always be times that I cry.
I need to know that you care about me. I need to feel your touch, your
hugs. I need you just to be with me, and I need to be with you. I need
to know you believe in me and in my ability to get through my grief in
my own way, and in my own time.
Please don’t say, “Call me if you need anything.” I’ll never call you
because I have no idea what I need. Trying to figure out what you could
do for me takes more energy than I have. So, in advance, let me give you
(a) Bring food or a movie over to watch together.
(b) Send me a card on special holidays, his birthday, and the
anniversary of his death, and be sure to mention his name. You can’t
make me cry. The tears are here and I will love you for giving me the
opportunity to shed them because someone cared enough about me to reach
out on this difficult day.
(c) Ask me more than once to join you at a movie or lunch or dinner. I
may so no at first or even for a while, but please don’t give up on me
because somewhere down the line, I may be ready, and if you’ve given up
then I really will be alone.
(d) Understand how difficult it is for me to be surrounded by couples,
to walk into events alone, to go home alone, to feel out of place in the same situations
where I used to feel so comfortable.
Please don’t judge me now – or think that I’m behaving strangely.
Remember I’m grieving. I may even be in shock. I am afraid. I may feel
deep rage. I may even feel guilty. But above all, I hurt. I’m
experiencing a pain unlike any I’ve ever felt before and one that can’t
be imagined by anyone who has not walked in my shoes.
Don’t worry if you think I’m getting better and then suddenly I seem to
slip backward. Grief makes me behave this way at times. And please don’t
tell me you know how I feel, or that it’s time for me to get on with my
life. What I need now is time to grieve.
Most of all thank you for being my friend. Thank you for your patience.
Thank you for caring. Thank you for helping, for understanding. Thank
you for praying for me.
And remember in the days or years ahead, after your loss – when you need
me as I have needed you – I will understand. And then I will come and be