This Is For

This is for the parents who sent their child to school this week who never came home. This is for the families who sent their teacher to school this week who never came home. 

And for people whose loved ones chose to end their life, or lost their battle with an illness, were in an accident, murdered, assaulted or vanished without a trace. For the estranged.

This is for those longing to get pregnant as well as those who lost a child during their pregnancy. 

This is for those who feel unseen. Who give their all with no affirmation or acknowledgement. Or feel they have nothing of value to give.

This is for our military who serve far from home, sometimes in foreign lands. Who long for home and family.

This is for those with empty hearts, and pantries. For whom hope is a long-lost dream. 

For the ones who will always bear the weight of loss and yet carry on because moving forward is a choice made daily. 

It is for those whose days are not merry or bright as they move through this holiday season. Those going through the motions as people often do.

This is for you. You are not alone. I see you. Plagued by burdens and sorrow. I know you carry on, sustained by grit, faith and determination. May you find the strength to stay in the moment. To do the next right thing. Whatever that looks like for you.

In this most wonderful time of the year, it's okay question if you'll ever feel that sense of wonder again. It's okay if the days are hard. It's okay to wish for simpler times. It's okay to have human moments. It's okay to be just as you are.  

flawed, & (still) worthy.

1985

I've been on a mission. I'm working on a project, and I've been looking for a penny that was minted in the year each my kids were born. Shhhh, don't tell them. Can I just say it's been a challenge. 

First of all, the numbers on pennies are so dang tiny, or my eyes aren't what they used to be. Not sure which, maybe both. Then you think, maybe this is a silly idea. What's a penny anyway? Why is that date so meaningful? Does it only mean something to me? Maybe it's a mom thing. Will they shake their head at the mere idea? 

Then I think of Gibb's Rule #39. There is no such thing as a coincidence. I think God was really on to something when he inspired Gibbs to write this rule. God is good that way. No such thing as a coincidence. Is that not faith filled or what? Like a plot twist with a happy ending. Amen sisters and brothers.

So, I was a little concerned because I couldn't find one. But also, not horribly concerned because I had 20 more days to find it. I do well under pressure. A lot can happen in 20 days. 

Searching takes time, as we all know. That needle in a haystack is a challenge. Finding your hope and/or faith is right there too. Trusting is part of the process as is just being open to the outcome. Lord knows, over the years, I have wrestled with the process. Whatever process it was, I tried to take it to the mat. Anyone with me on this? I like to think I'm getting better at trusting.

So, I've been hunting for that penny. In all the obvious places. In my wallet, every time I got change. In my stash of coins in the drawer. In the extra change bowl at work. Plus, I've told a few people about this hunt of mine. They were willing to look too. I think because I had them curious, or because they believe in me. Good people help and I am grateful.

So, picture this. I'm working away and reach into a little votive cup of paper clips on my desk. As I sift out a paper clip, I see that lo and behold the cup holds one penny. Odd place for a penny. Just one penny. You guessed it, minted in 1985. Also of note, today is the birthday of my child born in 1985. Coincidence? Oh, I don't think so. 

All Will Be Well

I've written before about anniversaries of the heart. They may be full of joy, melancholy, sorrow. They may be dates of birth, dates of great celebration, dates of death, life events, transitions, tragedy. So many possibilities, and, with time, we all come to experience them.

It means so much when someone reaches out to you on those days. That someone says hey, I remember. You are not alone, I remember. People often hold their pain inside, closed off, and go along as if all is well.  Which reminds me of a lovely affirmation for good times and bad. All will be well, all will be well, and all manner of things will be well. Funny how we forget that, or flat out don't have enough faith to believe it. All will be well. Not all will be as we'd hoped, or expected, or desired. But all will be well.

I know, that's a struggle to embrace. Yet, embrace it we must. On the days we look back and see only failure. On the days we miss someone long gone. On the days that ended badly. I know it's a struggle.

Anniversaries of the heart can be lonely moments of reflection. If at all possible, share those moments with another. They can be moments of joy, share those moments. They can be days that changed the course of your life. Remember those days in the lives of your friends and family. Bridge the gap and reach out. 

I say all this knowing I struggle with reaching out. I excel at missing birthdays. I'm not great at sharing my life. I love connection, I'm just not always great at it. I am, however, a work in progress. And all will be well. On the good days, on the hard days, on the anniversaries of the heart. All will be well.

One More Time

I couldn't begin to count the times I've left the house and told the dogs be good, I'll be back later. Crazy dog people like me say things like that. A friend of mine instructs her dog each day to keep the elephants away. She doesn't live anywhere near elephants. Saying things like this are a term of endearment. A love language of sorts. A ritual, a transition, from being in the presence of our beloved pets, to going out into the world. Leaving them is hard sometimes.

I had to leave Layla for the last time. I held her and whispered, I've got you, I've got you, I've got you. Until all I had left were memories. It sucks. Big time. Letting go is so hard. In reality she left me, way before I was ready.

I've had to let lots of things go. We all do. It never gets easier.

Pets give love in such a pure and nonjudgmental way. I mean, they could judge me, lol. I am far from perfect. I'll admit I've wondered if when I leave, they put their heads together and say, whew, she's a nut job. But she's our nutjob and we love her.

I've felt that way about Layla. She was a wild child for years. She did miles and miles of perimeter checks. Barked the night animals away that came near her yard. Retrieved a zillion tennis balls. Tried repeatedly to crawl into my skin when it thundered. Did pet therapy visits and never met a stranger. In fact, she was always disappointed if a passerby neglected to stop to pet her. Rude.

I'd like to be a bit like she was. A little on the cray cray side. But completely adorable. I'd like to give a good side eye like she did. I'd like to have her joy, her resilience, her stamina.  Mostly, I'd like to kiss her one more time, say I've got you and I love you. One more time.

 

For me, and for you.

I haven't had a lot of words lately; I've been lost in feelings and memories. 

Memories are funny that way. Not ha-ha funny, sad funny. Sometimes the other way around. I look back a lot this time of year. Because life changed dramatically. You don't forget the events that change your very being. 

You remember who broke the news. You remember who helped clean up the messes. You remember who stood with you. You remember life flights, honor walks, and new titles like, widow and survivor. You remember going home for the first time afterwards. Life is divided by before and after. 

Now, there will always be those who think by now you should be over it. Years pass, life goes on. They say it's in the past. They say you'll love again. There is some truth in that. Live does go on. In different ways. You do love again. If you're lucky, you love yourself. You have a greater appreciation for those who bless your life. Some memories, however, carry into the future. That's not a bad thing. 

I realize I'd never be who and where I am without the experiences that shaped me. That the trauma serves a purpose. The life changes bring new blessings. The pain builds my faith. That gratitude is as necessary as breathing. That sharing is caring. That I need to put words to paper. For me, and for you. 

No Good Outcomes

I have a friend going through a time in life where there are no good outcomes. A different situation than my loss, but my heart weighs heavy for her. It triggers memories of seven years ago when there were no good outcomes in my life. 

We hadn't gotten to the worst, but we were on the downhill slide. Each day we lost more ground. Each day, especially in retrospect, it became clearer that things were not right and would never be. 

We were worried and stressed. Friends were concerned for his safety, and for mine. I worried about the dog's safety. So many prayers, so few answers. Each day I'd come home wondering what I'd walk in to. I'd count noses, I'd assess the mood, look for clues, sometimes I'd even do a mental inventory of what might have gone missing while I was gone. Part of me was always on high alert and had been for ages. I can't speak for his progression down the slippery slope, because his reality was different than mine. His pain and experiences were mostly held within. Except for the times they came out sideways. Few people were aware of how it was unfolding. Some knew from what I shared, even then it didn't feel safe to let on.

Therein is a lesson. So often we don't share the pain we are going through. I mostly didn't, but I didn't have much of a voice then. Sometimes in the midst of the storm we can't see how bad it is. We trudge on, in pain, in worry. We do the best we can with the knowledge we have at the time. 

I wish, and always will, that the choices faced ended differently. But we cannot choose for another. We can only choose for ourselves. Choice is a mix of instinct, faith, hope and ownership. It's a process that moves in slow motion or in light speed. Sometimes simultaneously.

I don't know where you are in life. I know we're only as alone as we chose to be. I know sometimes there are no good outcomes. Even in that we have a choice on how we respond. I pray it is with the faith and trust that we can survive the worst storms life offers. 

One Person's Journey

Anniversaries of the heart are not limited to one day. Often, there are days or weeks of memories. Flashbacks of trauma, days of stress and confusion. Sometimes a clear view of the dysfunction doesn't happen until long after the event.  I kept a journal during the hard times in life. It served me well then, and it serves me well now. Why do I look back? Because it helps to remember that I did all I could. That things were so completely messed up. That I made choices based on what I knew at the time. That I did the best I could. And, that I am a human prone to human moments. We all are.

At times we think back and say, self, it really wasn't that bad. The journal reminds me otherwise. It reminds also me how prayerful I was every day in unbearable circumstances. I understand that while specific prayers went unanswered, other prayers I never put words to were.

A friend said to me recently never forget the sting. Which seemed an odd. Most people would hope for that, long for that. She clarified that my story needs to be told. That someone out there, who I will likely never know, needs to hear it. I don't know for sure how my words will get there, but I believe they will. It's like planting seeds and never seeing them grow. You trust the process.

There are a million different stories of loss and grief due to suicide, all different, none make it easier to accept. The loss impacts who you are to the core. So many lives forever changed by one decision.

As the days countdown to seven years since this loss. I look back and I look forward. I count blessings, I grieve losses. I remember how hard life was. I remember those who sustained me. I recall the pain and the prayers. I trust that the words of a survivor can be balm for someone else. Therein lies the grace. One person's journey can ease another's.