Letters of Hope Continued…

doing the bestSo it probably seems to many of you reading this blog that I’ve been writing about the same thing forever. This IVF thing is tough. The waiting. The hoping. The praying. And waiting some more. I’m glad I wrote during that time. Not only for how I felt then but for how I feel now. To realize that I can still turn to Gregger. But I can also handle it on my own. I can find the strength. Dig deep. Stand tall. And keep going. Through the toughest days. And, somehow, the sun always shines brightest on the other side. So writing continued to be my savior.

May 28

Dear Gregger,

doing the best 2I spent today with Ashley and Tyler. We went to look at houses. They found a house they love, but standing there I felt so out of my comfort zone. I felt like a fraud. It was like, “What am I doing here with them? I don’t know what I’m doing? Gregger, you should be here, not me. You know the questions. I don’t even know what to ask.” I want to help them, but I don’t know the right way. You would. I kept looking at Ashley. I wanted her to sit down. I wanted her to take it easy. I want to treat her like a china doll right now. I feel like everything is so fragile. I know she’s worried. She mentioned it several times. And then we’d quickly change the subject. She wants to be positive. And as soon as she is, she’s afraid to say so. I know the feeling. It’s so uncertain, and, oh so scary. I know they both want this so badly. And I hurt so badly for them, wanting it so badly too. I just kept wishing you were there. We drove around and looked at other places. I told them they had to have options. I think that place is really out of the question. A little over the top. I think they could find something a little more reasonable without having to put so much into it. It’s hard. You want everything all at once. I remember we did too. I remember looking for our first house. We looked at all of those run down fixer uppers. We thought we could do it, and, in the end, we went with the new. We went in a little over our heads, but it all worked out in the end. Scary at times, but I guess the risks paid off. Or did they? Was it all the risks that pushed you to the edge? Was it the risks that pushed you to work harder and harder until you went over the edge? I don’t know. I think there’s a fine line there. I keep trying to help. But I have to be realistic about this too. I was honest with them. I will seek help from others. Opinions. I won’t make a stupid mistake. I promise.

I kept remembering all day how you used to say to me, “Don’t you dare leave me first. Don’t leave me alone with these kids.” Well you did it to me and now I need your support more than ever. I’m doing the best I can, and, most of the time, I’m holding it together fairly well. But this one’s got me good. So I am begging you, as I do every day, to watch over your baby. Watch over her babies. Keep everyone safe. We all miss you more than you could ever imagine. If we only had one more day to let you know. I hope you do. I hope you hear the messages. I hope you feel it. Because this earth is just a much emptier place without your heart. Your smile. Your incredible being. I know you are watching. I know you are holding her in your arms and heart. Just keep doing so…I love you forever. Until tomorrow…

doing the best 1May 29

Dear Gregger,

I hate these holiday weekends. This day seems to have gone on forever. It’s been filled with some strange happenings. Really strange now that I think about it. First encounter: I was leaving Equinox today, casually talking to some lady about the clouds overhead. She said she missed the sunshine. I said I didn’t mind the clouds. I didn’t want to tell her I look for you in the clouds. When it’s sunny I have no chance of seeing you. She’d think I was looney. I simply told her that I lived in Arizona for nearly 40 years and woke to sunshine most days. This was a nice change. Some guy was walking toward the gym. He jumped into the conversation. “I just moved here from Arizona.” I asked from where. “Scottsdale.” What part. “D.C. Ranch.” We bantered for a minute or so. I decided to ask the big question. So did you ever hear of the Clotherie? His mouth dropped. “It was the only place I ever shopped.” Well, I’m Greg’s wife. And then his jaw dropped. “I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say. He was the best guy ever.” Yeah. I know. He was the BEST. I love hearing that. But I already knew it. It was one of your customers. I couldn’t believe it. Here was a guy who drove you crazy, but someone who REALLY knew you. It was drizzling, but I wanted to stand there in the drizzle and hear him talk about you. I wanted to hear stories. I wanted to hear something. But then he had to go. But it was cool. It made me smile for a minute or two. Something that’s been a little rough lately. I’m so stressed. So worried. And then I got in my car and the tears welled in my eyes.

I talked to Ashley and Tyler today. I think I gave some decent advice about the houses. Maybe some things you might even say. It’s hard. You were the one who knew all those things. I keep telling Ashley to rest. I want her to take it easy. I know she is. I wish I could just relax. I just wish I knew. I just wish I knew it would all be okay. But I don’t. So we wait. That’s why I turn to you. Again and again and again. To watch, to hold, to pray. I thought I prayed hard when my little dog, Lucy, was in the hospital, but that was nothing. I’ve never prayed harder for anything in my life. Oh, I would have prayed this hard and a million times harder for you if it would have changed anything, but it wouldn’t. That sucked. I still prayed. I prayed that you didn’t hurt. I prayed that you were okay. I prayed that your mom got you. I prayed that you were at peace. And I prayed that you knew how much we all loved and still love you every single day.

An old friend reached out to me today. We chatted over FB and he told me that in time I need to let you go. Not just for me, but for you. I need to set you free. Is that true? Am I holding you back? I’m sorry if I am. I don’t want to. If I had to I would let you go, but only if that meant you would watch doubly over Ashley and those babies. But that’s not fair. Just a little longer. I’m asking. Please. And when the time comes, please guide me. Because as much as I thought I knew how; I don’t. I love you. Until tomorrow…

doing the best 3May 30

Dear Gregger,

Happy Memorial Day! Well, it certainly wasn’t a holiday without you here. This was my second Memorial Day without you. Now I’m moving onto my seconds. The firsts were hard enough. The seconds seem to be even harder. Lonelier. I’m watching the NBA playoffs. I didn’t watch a basketball game all year. The Suns sucked. You would have been really disappointed. The Warriors are in the playoffs. It’s the 7th game of the series against Oklahoma. Pretty good. I keep wishing you were here so we could watch together. I think you’d be cheering for the Warriors. So I’m cheering for you. The finals will be against LeBron and the Cavaliers. It will be a replay of last year. Not sure who I’ll root for in that one. It would be kind of cool for LeBron to win for Cleveland. I know you never liked him but he’s done a lot for the game. The French Open is on too, but it’s really boring. Federer dropped out. Nadal dropped out. And a few of the other top players. Boring. So I started making an afghan. Something to do with my hands. Something to distract my mind. It always goes back to the same place. I look at your picture. Especially the one of you and Ashley together. I see you holding her, your arm wrapped protectively around her and I hope you are doing the same now. I hope you are holding her safe. Holding those babies safe. I pray every day. Every night. I know I repeat myself, but I so wish you were here.

So Golden State won. It’s Warriors vs. Cavs. Back to back matchup. You would love it. I think. Long time in coming before the Suns ever make it there.

I’ll keep you in my prayers tonight. I always do. I’ll send you my love. My heart. All I ask is that you keep Ashley, Tyler and those babies safe. You are their guardian angel. I do believe that. I do believe you are watching. Listening. And taking care. I love you. Until tomorrow…

And the countdown begins…prayers continue.

To be continued…

Letters of Hope

Letters of Hope Continued…

waitingTen days of waiting and praying. Waiting and praying. There was nothing else to do. The embryos were implanted. And all we could was wait. Hope. I tried to remain calm. Not for me. But for Ashley. The baby(ies). She didn’t need my stress. She was carrying enough of her own. So I pretended. I smiled. Laughed. And loved. I gave when they wanted me to give. I held back when they needed space. But on the inside. I was struggling. Barely holding on. I wanted time to stop. For 10 days. And then I wanted the news to come. But that’s not the way it works. Life continues. So we did too. And I kept writing. To fill the space. The emptiness.

May 26

Dear Gregger,

Did you know you are on my mind from the minute I open my eyes in the morning until the moment I close them at night? And if I should wake in the middle of the night, you are my very first thought. When I get in my car to drive away, I look for you in the clouds. I listen for you on my radio. I ache to feel your hand in mine. But it isn’t there.

This is such a long, seamless forever waiting game right now. I just wish you were here to calm my nerves, tell me everything would be okay. But you’re not. So I look to you. Talk to you. Pray to you. I try to fill my hours but the quiet moments are lonely without you. Even though we weren’t always together, I knew you were there. I knew you were a phone call away. A text away. So just now when I need you most, it’s a real test. And I’m not doing so well.

But most of my waking hours are spent worrying and praying for Ashley and those little “peanuts.” Please keep your angel wings spread over them to keep them safe. I love you…until tomorrow…waiting 2

May 27

Dear Gregger,

It’s been kind of a strange day. It’s the beginning of a holiday weekend. Memorial Day. Not that we ever did very much but it was always so special to have you for two days in a row. I miss that. It’s crazy to think that having two days was such a big deal for us. Most people have that every weekend. They simply take it for granted. For us it was special. But that’s kind of cool. We appreciated the moments. Sometimes we got a little too hung up on those moments. You wanted them perfect since they were too few and far between, so if we faltered, it seemed as though the day was “messed” up. But I think we finally figured that out. We figured out how to “mess up” and still have fun. How to “mess up” and get back on track. How to “mess up” and still love each other. We had something special. We were so lucky. Most people don’t have what we had once in a lifetime. I hold onto that and count my blessings every day.

I think Ashley and Tyler have it too. They know how to be together. They’ve been dealing with this infertility for nearly 2 years. That takes a toll on a couple. Do you remember? It was hard on us. I can only imagine for them. But they’ve held it together. I would never have known. But I guessed. Not because of anything they showed between them. But just because. I guess it was a mom thing. Intuition. I don’t want them to hurt anymore. I want them to have happiness. Joy. Love. And family. Ashley’s struggling a little with “holding it in,” but she’s holding it together. It’s hard at work. Not to be able to do things. And not to be able to tell people why. But it’s all so hard. Not telling people. Holding it all in. Not knowing. Waiting. So,PLEASE, PLEASE keep watching over her. Please hold her close in your hands and heart. Keep all of them safe. I know you “came to her” a few weeks ago. It meant the world to her. I love you more than ever…until tomorrow…

So the waiting game continued. We went about life trying to be normal. But life was anything but normal. We counted the days. One at a time. Slowly. Slowly. But, as they say, “Good things come to those who wait, but better things come to those who are patient.” So patient we would be. One day at a time.

choose hope

To be continued…

Letters of Hope

Letters of Hope Continued

hope 3Infertility is tough. There’s no other way to put it. It’s an emotional roller coaster that weighs heavily on the hearts of future moms and dads struggling to build a family. But when it’s your own, it’s different. It’s tough. You want to do more. And more. You want to fix it. But you can’t. So, my role? Support. Encourage. Reassure. And PRAY.  In the meantime, I turned to my Gregger. My support. I didn’t get answers. But I felt better. And better was okay.

May 24

Dear Gregger,

Well today was a HUGE day. Those little embryos, babies, or whatever you want to think of them were implanted in Ashley’s body today. Now we wait, pray, wait and pray that they continue to grow and are healthy. I know you will continue to watch over her. I had the most miraculous moment today. She was in for the procedure at 1:00. She was sending me messages, telling me how nervous she was, and I was trying to keep her calm. All the while, I was a wreck. But I had no one. No one to calm me. So I turned to you. Of course I did. You always were my rock. And at 1:30, when I thought I couldn’t stand it one minute longer, you showed up. Right there in my car. “Somewhere Over The Rainbow.” Your version. The one I NEVER hear!!! I stopped. Literally. Thank god I was at a red light. I took a picture of my radio. I couldn’t believe it. I was shaking from head to toe. I texted it to Ashley. I wanted her to know her daddy was here. He was watching and taking care of her. Of me. I cried. I sobbed. And when they called to tell me about this miracle that had taken place today I was overcome with so many emotions. Am I crazy? Maybe. But I will hold onto this belief. I will believe I see you in the clouds. Hear you in the music. Why was I so strong for so long and now I’m just falling apart? I guess I had no choice. And now I just really, really want you here. I want you to be a part of this. You should be here. But you’re not. So I’ll see you in the clouds. Hear you in the music. And keep believing. Watch over Ashley and those tiny babies in her womb. Keep them all safe. Know that we all miss you so much, but no one as much as me. I love you so much…until tomorrow…

May 25hopw

Dear Gregger,

It’s kind of been a crazy kind of day. I’ve heard you everywhere. I’ve seen hearts in the clouds. And my “rainbow” song played AGAIN!!! I  never hear it and there it was. I took a picture. I sat at the gas station so I didn’t miss a word.  I heard “The Prayer” two or three times. Keep us safe. What a beautiful message. That’s all I think about. Keep Ashley and those “little ones” safe. I know you are watching. I hope you hear my words. My heart beating. See my tears. That’s all I can give you. I wish there was more. I just wish we’d had more time. So many things to say. So many things to do. But it was so good. Not perfect. But we made it so. The bad times made the good times so great. They taught me to be grateful. They taught me about blessings. Life gifts. If life was always perfect, how would I have learned. You showed me the way to happiness. To love. To courage. And now to strength. Even when I am so weak, I hear you pulling me to find my way. Thank you.

Keep those magic, soft hands over your baby. Keep all of “them” safe. As always, I love you more than ever. Until tomorrow…

I believed in my signs. They brought me joy. Peace. They still do. I cling to hope. Faith. And the power of positive thinking. “You can’t live a positive life with a negative mind.” I choose positive. Today. Tomorrow. Always.

hope 2

To be continued…

Letters of Hope

Letters of Hope Continued…

griefSo I’ve been looking back. Some may wonder why. Why look back on a difficult time? Why relive difficult moments? It’s part of me. Part of my life. Part of something I want to share. So others know they aren’t alone. And for those who are members of this “club,” I’m sharing the waves. The highs and lows of the second year. Reality. Feel. Fret. And sometimes fall. It’s all okay. Because at the end of the day, you will stand. On your own two feet. Stronger than you’ve ever been.

So we were waiting. And praying. And I was continuing to write Gregger. The words are unedited. They were a stream of consciousness. He was my lifeline to sanity.

May 22

Dear Gregger,

sunday fundayToday is Sunday Funday. But I haven’t had one of those since you left. I kind of hate Sundays anymore. I actually dread them. I think about how we would wake up, you would do your silly chores, we’d have our coffee together, and then go for our walk. I miss that. I really miss our time at Starbucks. How silly is that? But I loved that time. Our time to talk. Catch up. Talk about everything. Or nothing. It didn’t matter. I just loved spending time with you. Running all those silly errands. That meant more to me than some fancy dinner or a big night out. I don’t know if you ever really understood that. I just loved being with you. I see couples together and I miss that. Miss walking and holding your hand. Miss talking to you. Miss riding in the car. Miss everything. But Sundays are tough. So today’s one of those.

Ashley called first thing this morning and she was so excited. She was nervous but excited. I guess the eggs divided again, which is a good thing. Like I keep saying, I don’t really understand it all, but if she’s excited, that’s a good thing. Please keep watching over her. Hold her in your arms and keep her and those little eggs safe so they can be implanted in her body. I am praying with all my might. I look for you in the clouds. I see smiles and think it’s you looking down at all of us. At least I hope so. That beautiful beaming smile that just lit up the entire world.

I love talking to you. I feel closer. I hold your picture in my hands. I whisper to you. Others would think I’m crazy, but it makes me feel good. And right now that’s what I need. Remember to hold your baby in those big, strong soft hands of yours. I love you so much…until tomorrow…

May 23

Dear Gregger,

grief 2aI was such a wreck today. My nerves are starting to get the best of me. I didn’t realize that Ashley wasn’t going to hear anything until this afternoon so I carried my phone into every class with me. I NEVER do that. But I was afraid to miss something. She called and she’s so nervous. Excited. Everything rolled into one. This has brought us even closer than we were before. It is a blessing. I know it is. In so many ways. Tomorrow is the BIG day. They are implanting the embryos (or whatever they call the fertilized eggs). Then we pray again. Again and again. Over and over. With all of our hearts. I can’t remember how many days she has to wait but it will be treacherous I’m sure. She’s taking such good care of herself. You’d be so proud. She’s so much of you. You’d love watching her at work. I watch her and see so much of you. Her smile. Her way with people. Her joy. Everyone loves her. They tell me she is warm. Loving. Caring. Kind. All the things people told me about you. It warms my heart. And I tell them all that she is her father’s daughter. And that you would be so proud. Maybe that’s all the “smiley” clouds I see overhead. I hope so.

Hold your hands over her. Or maybe they are wings. I don’t know. You must be the grandest of angels. Take care of her. Keep her safe. I so wish you were here with me, but, if I can’t have that wish, I wish that you watch over your baby (and her “babies”). I love you with all my heart. Until tomorrow…

“Grown don’t mean nothing to a mother. A child is a child. They get bigger, older, but grown. In my heart it don’t mean a thing.” So my child was grown, bigger and older, but in my heart, still my child. My heart simply wanted her to find the greatest joy. The joy I had found with her.

To be continued…


Memories Fade and Messages Appear

Memories Fade and Messages Appear Making those Memories Clear

“‘When you wanted to forget everything would return in raw brutal focus. When you wanted to remember the details would slip away like a dream at dawn.”

memories 1I read this the other day and it struck a significant chord. Wham! Straight to my heart! Some days I struggle to bring the memories to life. I fight with my brain. Bring it in. Clearer. Clearer. I can’t see it. Focus. I don’t remember. Frustrating. I want it etched in my mind. Every detail. I don’t want to forget. I want to see Gregger. Every part of him. His eyes. They sparkled every time he looked at me. Gleaming with a touch of emerald. His beautiful bald head. Took me ages to convince him to get rid of the fuzz. I loved his baldness. Sexy. Sweet. Just like him. The stubble on his cheeks and chin. He could shave in the morning and have stubble by noon. Poor guy. He hated it. I loved it. And his smile. The smile that lit up a room. The world. Reminding us to be kind. Loving. Gentle. Good. The smile that emitted laughter. A giggle that turned into “hee-heeing” and “weeeeee” until tears rolled down his cheeks. Eyes squinted. Belly laughter. I miss that. The details.

memories for blogThe first year was easier. Fresher. As time passes, the picture fades. The edges fray. I fight to keep it intact. But will I be able to hold on? Paint the picture every day? I don’t know. It scares me. Just the other day a beautiful gift came my way. So unexpected. An incredible blessing. I opened the back pages of my FB to send a private message to my sister. Something silly. Inane. But, as I did so, I noticed something I’d never seen before. Something about messages to “accept.” I clicked. Had no idea what I’d see. I thought it was these weirdos who kept trying to “friend” me. Widow status. It attracts all kinds. But this was different. A few names I knew. A few I didn’t. I started clicking. One after the after. Messages about Greg. Dated: September 2014. Words from the past that I needed today. 

“Whenever I stopped by Greg always took time out of his day to talk with me. He treated everyone like that. For me (as I’m sure it is for you), this world is a very different place without Greg in it.”

“Although I knew Greg only for a brief time, he was always very generous to me and imparted many wise words. More than talking about work, the last thing I remember is him telling me to enjoy my kids and reminding me how quickly they grow.”

memories for blog 1The words imparted the same message. His kindness. His generosity. And his love for family. The last message shocked me most. Yet comforted me in the strangest of ways. From a “stranger.” Someone I’ve never met. Someone I’ll probably never meet. But she was there. On the beach. That very day.

“My family was with you and your family today and witnessed your tragic loss of your husband. I just want you to know that we are so sorry and we are lifting your family in our prayers. I am sure that words can’t fill this wound but we are saddened by your great loss today.”

She found our name. Found my name. And took the time to send this special message. I am forever grateful for these words. Two years later. They melted my heart. Maybe even more than had I read them back then. The words would have been mixed with so many others. Today it brought the focus back. The memories. Of strangers. Hugging. Holding. Praying. Compassion. Love. In a world filled with hate, anger, and violence, this moment was anything but. Strangers gathered. But in that moment we were all one. I will never forget. And be forever grateful.

These words reminded of memories I’ll never forget. The man who was loving, kind, generous, supportive, warmhearted, and selfless. My Gregger. Memories etched in my heart forever.

memories for blog 2

Passing The Test

Passing The Test

IMG_2403Year two was simply about riding the waves. Grief. Joy. Turmoil. Uncertainty. I never knew from one day to the next. Test after test. I was barely holding on. One night I realized something was horribly wrong. Face on fire. Sick. Achy. And alone. I grabbed Angel and raced to Urgent Care. Just as I suspected. Cellulitis. Another bug sting. Awful. I had to watch it. Scary. No one there. My face was swelling. What do I do? No Gregger. Again. I couldn’t be around Ashley. She was in the midst of IVF. I wouldn’t let her risk it. So I was alone. Drove to the ER. Ugh! Walked in. Waited in that cold, dreary place. Gregger. Where are you? You should be here holding my hand. And just as I suspected, I was admitted. Not even a room. A bed with a curtain. No bathroom. Shared with a bunch of strangers. Gross. Gregger would never let that happen. But there I was.

IMG_2404One day stretched into two. Then three. Then four. I begged to go home. They finally moved me to a private room. I stared out the window. Clouds. Gregger. Are you there?  GET ME OUT OF HERE! Finally. But with conditions. A pick line. A portable IV. That didn’t sound too bad. I could handle that. Or so I thought. Not! I couldn’t shower. Couldn’t change clothes. Couldn’t be without this massive bag hanging from my arm. They left out those pertinent details. So back to the ER I went. Out it came. Or part of it. Three trips back to the ER before the mess was gone.Two weeks of hell. But I made it. Another test. I passed. They say the difference between school and life is that “in school you’re taught a lesson then given a test. In life, you’re given a test that teaches you a lesson.” I was learning. Getting stronger.  But I begged for a break. A pass. Time out. Whatever. No more tests. At least for a while. Hadn’t I proved myself these past two years? I will never stop growing, but does it always have to be so hard?  I needed some happy news. Joy. And a little hope. Maybe tomorrow…

To be continued…IMG_2405

The White Butterfly

The White Butterfly

imageI was a mess without Gregger. Some days were so damn tough. It should have been easier. It wasn’t. He was my fixer. My comfort. My hand holder. And he wasn’t here. So I looked to the sky. The stars. The clouds. Anything. A sign. Give me something. And one day he did. Right in my backyard. A beautiful white butterfly.  Just for a second. I didn’t think much about it. But then it came back. Day after day. After day. It would flutter in. Stop for a moment. Flutter away. Always managed to catch my eye. Wherever I was. The kitchen. Family room. Outside. I’d approach it. Try to capture a picture. Never. Gone in a flash. But I knew. This was not random. Coincidence. Accidental. It was real. A sign. My first. Just when I needed it most.

imageMy butterfly. Still comes. On days I’m feeling sad. Empty. Or just needing a little comfort. It came several days ago. Hadn’t been by for a while. But it knew. There it was. I just stood at my patio door. Staring. Tears filling my eyes. Threatening to spill over. It fluttered in the bushes. Stayed a few extra seconds. And then off it went. But those seconds melted my heart. Gave me peace. Joy. The butterfly is a symbol of transformation. Rebirth. Growth. Joy. But, most of all, the white butterfly symbolizes the soul of a departed loved one. Gregger. Reminding me he was ok. I’d be ok. We’d be ok. He was here. Telling me everything would be okay. He was watching over us. Crazy? I think not. Coincidence? Couldn’t be. My butterfly showed up during the toughest of times. I’d catch a glint in the corner of my eye. Run out to see it. It would hover over the same bush and be gone. Every time. I’d see white butterflies other places. I’d smile. But this one was special. This was MY butterfly. The sign of “new beginnings.” In so many ways. It still comes. Not quite as often. But often enough. To let me know we’ll all be okay. Thank you Gregger.



Curve Balls

imageDeath taught me “that tomorrow is not real, and yesterday is no longer here. It made me realize that living inside my comfort zone means that I don’t appreciate life as much as I should. It taught me to respect my sunrises and my sunsets. To dance when music is playing. To laugh at least two times a day and to say I love you even when I am mad at someone. Because at the end of this, nothing else will matter.”

Just as I was trying to figure out a way to pull myself out of this “funk,” life threw me another curve ball. I didn’t want to feel sorry for myself. I just wanted to ride on cruise control. A month. A week. At this point, I’d be happy with a few days. So I wasn’t prepared when Ashley and Tyler came over and hit me with their “tough” news. Something a mama never wants to see. Feel. Hear. Her kids hurting. Struggling. Trying to get pregnant. But it wasn’t working. Two years. I suspected. For a while. Tried to keep it to myself. Maybe nudged a few times here and there. But I knew it was their thing. Not mine. I just know (personally) what it feels like to want a baby and somehow it’s just not working. It sucks. And then there are all the people asking, “So when are you guys going to get pregnant? Do you want kids?” Posts of friends having babies. Getting pregnant. Sucks. Sucks. Sucks. So their pain became my pain. In a matter of seconds. I tried to hold back the tears. It was tough. I didn’t want them to see my pain. So there we were. What can I do? How can I help? I’m here. For whatever. Just tell me. I felt helpless. But wanted to be so helpful. All at once. But there was a plan. Doctor’s appointment set. And then we’d see. Fingers crossed. Prayers started. That’s really all there was left for me to do. Or so I thought…


The minute they walked out the door, I broke down. Tears. Shaking, sobbing tears. Not for me. For them. That motherly feeling of helplessness. Ugh. I wanted Gregger. Why wasn’t he here? I  needed him. To talk to. To hold my hand. To lay my head on his shoulder. To tell me everything would be okay. But he wasn’t. So there I was. Alone. I couldn’t share this with anyone. Silent. Secrets. Stress overload. And a total game of wait and see.

To be continued…

curve balls 1

Moving On…The Tough Days

Moving On…The Tough Days

moving on 2Moving on. I thought it would get easier. It didn’t. I slipped. I skidded. I stopped. I shut down. And I just couldn’t write anymore.Thoughts would spin inside my head, but they wouldn’t reach my fingertips. They stopped. Somewhere. Jumbled.  I was too empty. Too lonely. Too alone. Stress was pulling me down. And I had nowhere to go. I kept reaching for Gregger. But he wasn’t there. And I realized he never would be. Ever again. The finality of it all. Scary. Sad. Detached. Should I share that raw emotion? People saw me as strong. Brave. Overcoming the worst of the worst. How could I go backwards? So I shut down. I buried myself inside my head.

I found solace in the space of my car. Music. Special songs. And I remembered. Tears would roll down my cheeks. Sometimes I’d sob uncontrollably. But it was my safe haven. Every morning. And then I’d walk into one of my “happy places” to work out. The tears were replaced by a smile. Fake? Maybe. I put on my “happy face.” No one knew. No one knew what was brewing inside. The turmoil. The heartache. The pain. I learned I could turn it on. And turn it off. I could allow myself to be sad. And then give myself space to be happy. It worked. I wasn’t burying emotions. I wasn’t hiding from them. I wasn’t burdening anyone. I was carrying the weight. But then I was letting it go. It wasn’t always easy, but, for the time being, it worked. And I hung on.  moving on 3

I just felt so stuck. I moved through the motions. I woke up. Got ready. Took care of puppy, Angel. Worked out. Incessantly. Ran errands. Came home. Watched TV. Stupid shows. Went to bed. Woke up. Repeated. Over and over. Again and again. I couldn’t read. I couldn’t do anything that required brain function. Concentration. Didn’t work. I was stuck. So I shut down. This was where I stayed for quite a while, until…

to be continued…

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One Step Forward

One Step Forward

happy people 5So my blogs have been all over the place lately. I’ve been up, down, over, under, and sideways. I’ve wanted to write and then I’m blocked. The words just don’t come. Or the ones that do, I don’t like. I don’t like what’s on the paper. I write. I delete. And I end up with a blank page. For weeks, maybe longer, it felt negative. Sad. I couldn’t put that out there. Not after I had spent more than a year writing about gratitude, positivity, strength. I felt like a liar. I wasn’t living my words. I knew that was okay. But it felt weak. I wrote about fear. All true. Part of the journey. But in the past week I’ve tried to refocus my energy. My thoughts. My intentions. Numerous, yet unrelated events have led me to this place. I believe the universe keeps putting “things” in my path. Reminders. People. Signs. Whatever these “things” are, they are bringing me back. Back to a better place. A place of peace. Within myself.  present

This past week Facebook sent me a beautiful reminder of the blessings and joyous moments in my life. Three years, five years, seven years ago. Love. Family. Together. Celebrations. Travel. So blessed. Memories that evoke smiles. Heartwarming hugs from the inside out. Instead of missing what I don’t have, I’m focusing on what I did have. How lucky I was. These are the gifts that keep on giving. I can pull them from my memory bank. Spark a smile. A warm fuzzy feeling.

story 2I am reminding myself why I started writing in the first place. Honor Gregger’s memory. Our life together. And to help me move on. So I’ve been stuck. It’s part of the journey. I will get stuck again. I’m sure of it. But I’m learning. Accepting. Not getting caught up. Not thinking “failure.” It’s okay. It’s life. And tomorrow’s another day. Another day to get it right. Or just do it another way. Whatever works. Just try.

I’ve met so many along this journey. Everyone has a story. Something. You never know the life a person has lived until you are in their shoes. Never judge. You never know their pain. Or their sadness. Smile at them. Talk to them. You never know how a kind word can brighten someone’s day. So many strangers have brightened mine. And I hope I’ve returned the favor without even knowing. But these stories opened my eyes. I’m not alone. So I can grieve. I can be sad. But I can also be happy. Move on. And focus on today. Because I can’t change the past. I can’t control the future. I can only be in the moment. And make the best of whatever that happens to be. So for today, I’ll make it a good one. I hope you do too. Happy Sunday! 

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