A Bewitchingly Ordinary Life!

It's been 436 days since Eric passed away.  One year and two months.  62 weeks and 1 day.  To be honest, I'm not sure some days how we got this far.  A part of me "knows" but a part of me does not. In those early days and weeks, two pieces of advice became a profound stepping stone on this journey. First, do not make any major decisions during the first year of losing a loved one. The second was "do the next thing".   I remember hearing the first one from the priest at my local Parish.  Trust me, I wanted to take my boys and run away.  To where?  I don't know.  I felt like I wanted to run and run and run.  I wanted to crawl out of my skin.  I wanted to be anywhere but here (then, in that present moment). The second piece of advice I heard at a grief support group.  One of the lovely people there was recounting the beginning days for herself and how she had heard that advice.  "Do the next thing".  If that next th...

 May 20th was 9 months.   Nine months that you've been gone.  It seems like a lifetime ago on some days.  On other days, it seems as if it was only yesterday. The passage of time brings distance between the tragedy and daily living. It does not bring comfort or healing.  Time doesn't heal all wounds.  I hate that cliche.   It doesn't make it easier to deal with.  Time doesn't do anything really, except march on. Ultimately, as time moves on, we feel left behind. Time doesn't help at all.  I think we've learned to compartmentalize.   This is work.  This is a compartment.  I have X.Y,Z to acccomplish.  I put a smile on.  I pep myself up.  I go on. This is school.  The boys have a subject to do.  They do X,Y,Z.  They put a smile on their face.  They pep themselves up. This is dinner time. This is TV time. This is grocery shopping time. This is laundry time. This is housecleaning ti...

 That is grief. I know when I'm being irrational in my thoughts. Yet I still ask, I still get mad. I want to scream into the darkness. I want to scream to the heavens. I want to scream to anyone who is listening. "What did you leave us?" "Why didn't you fight harder?" So very irriational.  It wasn't a choice for him to pass away.  It's nothing that could be "fought". But damn, I still want the questions answered. That is the irrationality of grief.

  I had a dream you were alive. I saw pictures of you in my mind, like an old photo rolodex. Flipping through, you were smiling, cigar in hand...various pics with people I did not recognize. You were happy. We found ourselves on a small sailboat in a vast ocean, trying to get to you. But the sea became so stormy and pushed us back to our known shore.  A person on shore is telling us "It's not time, you can't see him yet." I saw the happy pictures again in my mind. I know what it all meant but I am saddened and angry at the same time because I want comfort for our sons. Why won't comfort come? Why. ♫♫♫ The anchor holds Though the ship is battered The anchor holds Though the sails are torn I have fallen on my knees As I faced the raging seas The anchor holds In spite of the storm

  10/17/21   Nearly 2 months have gone by. Some days creep, like slow flowing sediment down a mountain. Other days whirl by in a blur, like a blinding snow storm. Reality has set in. That brings extremely sad days. That brings sentimental days sharing memories. That brings happy days as we begin to move forward in our new normal. Some days I find myself so angry at the unfairness. Was the ED department at the hospital negligent?  Did they make a mistake?  Slurred speech is not a symptom of sciatica. I need answers for my sons. Other days I just want to scream when I hear…. "Heaven has another angel" "He's in a better place" "There's a reason for everything" "Don't question" "It will be okay" "You're so strong" (trust me, I'm not) "Don't feel guilty" "Don't feel…. XYZ" And the myriad of other absolutely well intentioned, but horribly misguided platitudes. I won't even get into...

  10/1/2021 One month and 11 days ago, you left us.   On death: It brings a lot of regrets.  It makes me face the fact that I wasn't a good person.  I could have been better.  I could have been nicer.  I could do so much more.   Maybe if I hadn't vented so much... Maybe if I had been kinder... Maybe if I had been a better wife... Maybe I could have been there then and helped him before it was too late. Called an ambulance. Did CPR. Something. Death forces us to face the people we are and the people we were. It also gives us a choice to do better.  To be better. To be the change. I only hope he can forgive me. I only hope my sons can forgive me. I only hope Unetlanvhi (The Great Spirit/God in Cherokee) can forgive me. I hope I can forgive myself.

  9/26/21 Several nights ago I had this dream, more like a nightmare.  I was driving with my sons on this narrow road along a mountain.  It was a brown desolate mountain, no green, no beauty.  On one side of the road was the side of the mountain, rising high into the air.  On the other side were raging waters, right against the edge of the road.  Angry, chopping, wave filled waters for miles and miles.  The road was so narrow and winding.  I was terrified of driving off into the waters.   I kept thinking “I just want my sons to be safe.  I just want my sons to be safe.”  Suddenly, I had driven into this huge pot hole in the road.  It looked to be about 2 feet deep.  I began to panic as I tried and tried to rev the car and get out.  Over the edge of the mountain I heard the roaring of something.  I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it terrified me.  I kept trying to get the car unstuck, all while prayi...

  On Death 9/21/20 Friday, it was a Friday. August 20th, 2021.  I will never forget that night for as long as I live on this earth.  Everything, so crystal clear yet so foggy.  Like a raging river that night came rushing at me.  I was powerless to stop it, though I tried so hard.  That uneasy feeling came over me when Eric didn’t answer the door.  Aaron was supposed to stay the weekend with him.  I stopped by once, no answer.  Figuring he was out with a friend for a moment or napping, we went on to an appointment for David.   Stopping by again, an unsettling feeling came over me as Aaron knocked again, but no answer. I pushed it to the back of my mind as we drove off.  He just forgot.  He was out with a friend.  I was annoyed, how could he forget about Aaron coming over?  I felt bad for Aaron who wanted to visit his dad.  Still, I pushed it out of my mind.   Exhausted after a long week of teaching...

  There are times I have felt so content with life: wanting to stay planted. Wanting to grow roots, staying firmly in place. And then there are these times. That feeling of being trapped in life. That feeling of nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and not doing or being enough. I feel like this world has closed in on me the older have become. 10 years ago at age 40, I felt like there was still a shimmer of hope. I felt like I could pull things off and do what needed to be done. Now at 50 years old, I look back and feel like the span of my life has been but a vapor in the wind. I look back and see where I failed greatly. I look back and think why didn't I do better. Why didn't I do more.  I fear the Future. I'm sad that I can't give my sons the life that I had so wanted to when I set out on this motherhood journey. I've grown weary with the path in front of me so crooked and long.  Each day it seems happiness eludes me more and more. The call of contentment. The dreamy ...

This is how I remember you.  I am sure it is how I'll always remember you.  When I'm old, when I can not remember much else, when the world seems bleak or when the end of my life nears, I know I still remember "those" days. You were so young, fresh to the world. A million dreams before you.   (video montage) Those days, they flew by.  Faster than I ever dreamed possible.  And now, the days continue to fleet by.  I try to slow down, slow time down yet it only seems to disappear faster. You both have grown so much.  Young boys to young men.  11 and 13.  So close to 12 and 14. I seem so lost. In "those" days, those young days, I felt like I knew what I was doing.  Time proved me wrong.  Some days we sailed through with laughter, other days the three of us ended it in tears. Not much has changed in that respect. Except I realize I have no idea what I was doing then, nor do I have any idea now. I try though. I fail a lot, yet...

I will never forget that day. I was judging!!! I watched the lady as she absently scanned 2 Lunchables, a carton of Capri-Sun, some individual applesauce pouches, a single serving of some soda product, and a pack of mixed nuts. (do you KNOW how expensive and processed those Lunchables are anyway?? Not to mention juice pouches full of sugar.) Come on, wouldn't it be easier and cheaper to make a couple of sandwiches, and have some reusable cups and portion containers to get virtually the same meal?   Her children were a little disheveled and good god I don't think she ever brushes their hair. They were also not under control but arguing back and forth. To be honest it was rather annoying and I thought why doesn't she intervene? But wonder of wonders, they were on electronics.  And of course, she was paying with food stamps.  No mistaking that debit card anywhere. They have welfare, but still have money for that apparently.   She had some kind of Vera Bradle...

The Divorce Chronicles  Healing Takes Time: 5 things NOT to say Yes I know.  Don't say it.   "Terra, you share too much." Well, yes.  Yes I do.  I wear my heart on my sleeve.  For so long I have always done what others told me.  I stuffed things down.  I lived my life for others.  I'm 47 years old (almost 48).  I will no longer live for others.  At least in the sense of trying to please everyone.  I don't have to hid.  I don't have to feel ashamed.  AND, I don't have to agree. I'm getting ahead of myself a bit. I'll never forget the day I knew my marriage was over.  May 7, 2017.   1 year, 7 months, 10 days, 11 hours, 18 minutes, 30 seconds ago to be precise (at the time I wrote this).   The year before that our marriage almost ended.  There was 'forgiveness' and we moved beyond. 9 months went by.  I thought everything was perfect.  Better than ever. Tha...

I get it.   I really do. We all have preferences.  We all need that chemistry or spark. However there is a difference between having a preference and having a cruel outlook and saying things that do not build others up. I realize not everyone looks at it that way or has the same outlook. Yet treating others with just a bit of kindness should be common place.  There shouldn't be excuses made or even things said like "that's a man for you'. Why?  Because all men (thankfully) are not the same. But why does it seem that we may receive 100 compliments, yet can't shake the sadness and hurt from just one negative energy? Now before you say it, let me do it. Yes, I know it's within myself to not let what others say about me, hurt or damage my soul. Let's be real though.  Hurtful words and actions/in-actions of others DO affect us.  It's not that there is blame to place, however while I maybe should not dwell on the hurt, the other person needs to un...