Tag: memories

Letters-of-Hope-Continued

Letters of Hope Continued…

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

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…

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

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…

angels

Letters of Hope

Letters of Hope

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

hope for blog 3So I’ve been all over the place lately. 2 year anniversary. Butterflies. Signs. Sickness. Strength. Flashbacks. And the “news.” Ashley and Tyler. This consumed the first half of year 2. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. And I wasn’t even the one trying to get pregnant. But I was the mama. And there’s nothing worse than watching your child “hurt.” Hurt has no age limits. But this wasn’t a time for sorrow. Negativity. It was a time for strength. Courage. Confidence. And optimism. So I smiled. I laughed. I cheered. But in the silence, the tears fell. I prayed.

The hardest part was being alone. Not having anyone to talk to about my feelings. Not being able to vent. It was just stuffed. Deep down. It hurt. My heart hurt. Why was I taking this on so intensely? I wasn’t sure. I just knew I was. And I didn’t know how to let go. One night it hit me. I could talk to Gregger. Just in a different way. But he would hear me. So I started.hope for blog 4

May 19th:

Dear Gregger:  I am totally at a loss anymore. I don’t have anywhere to turn. You were my rock. My best friend. And you’re gone. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. 20 months and 19 days. But it doesn’t get easier. It gets harder. I don’t know if I was just numb before, or in complete denial, but lately it just sucks. Don’t get me wrong. It’s always sucked. But it sucks more than ever. I want to talk to you. I want to tell you things. I want you to help me find the answers. But you’re not here. I look at your picture. I beg you to send me signs. Show me the way. I feel helpless. Lost. Stuck. I reach for your hand. But there’s nothing there. It’s empty. Just like my heart. It aches. It hurts so bad sometimes I don’t think I can stand it for another minute. But somehow I breathe. I keep breathing.

Ashley and Tyler are going through their struggles. I want you here to hold me up when I’m ready to fall. Today was a big day for them. I was ready to fall apart. I just wanted to talk to you. Hold your hand. Have you tell me everything would be ok. I talked to you over and over again. Did you hear me? Please watch over them. Today was the day the doctors retrieved her eggs for IVF. She is going through infertility like we did. Only it’s even tougher for her. We got lucky. She’s lucky because now there are great doctors and miraculous medical improvements. I just pray and pray and pray for them. I pray that you are holding them in your hands and heart.hope for blog

I will continue to talk to you. I need you so badly. There is so much I wish I could say. I want one more hug. One more kiss. One more beautiful smile. I miss you more than words will ever say. Please hear my words. I love you. Until tomorrow…

So it was corny. Crazy. But it helped. This was the slow process. We had to wait to see if the eggs fertilized. Days and days of waiting. Hoping. Waiting. Hoping. So I kept writing. Day after day after day…

To be continued…hope for blog 2

Memories Fade and Messages Appear

Memories Fade and Messages Appear Making those Memories Clear

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

“‘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

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

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

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

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.

image

curve-balls

Curve Balls

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

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…

image

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

Celebration and Survival

Celebration and Survival

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

”The secret of health for both mind and body is not to mourn for the past, worry about the future, or anticipate troubles, but to live in the present moment wisely and earnestly.”

life is a giftThe days and weeks leading up to August 30th were tense. 2 years. You’d think it’d be easier. No. I was anxious. Emotional. Restless. Stressed. My stomach was in knots. My body ached. Anticipation. It does all kinds of crazy things. The BIG day. What would I feel? Would I break down? Could I handle it? AGAIN? The rush of memories. The flashes. Ugh. I just wanted to close my eyes. Wake up on August 31st. But that wasn’t real. That was an escape. And as others told me, the anticipation was far worse than the reality. So true. I survived. Survived. Celebrated. And realized it was all okay. Another year. We made it.

We celebrated what was. Celebrated what was to be. But, most of all, celebrated the day. The now. The being together. The present. That’s what mattered. Family. Sharing. Love. Gregger was with us. He always will be. We saw him in the clouds. We heard him in the ocean waves. We saw signs. We knew. And we smiled. A celebration of life. And all the beautiful gifts he gave to us. His legacy. Be kind. Be compassionate. Be patient. Be forgiving. And, most of all, love with all your heart. So we remember. And carry on…

IMG_2322

Gregger Pitti-Uomo-June-14-606

Here We Go…Year 3

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

gregger 1c

Dear Gregger,

Two years. Is that even possible? It seems like the blink of an eye. And then it seems like an eternity. So much has changed. So much has stayed the same. The one constant. You aren’t here. And I miss you as much as the day you left this earth. My heart still aches. I thought it would get easier. But here’s the thing. It doesn’t. I keep going. I live. Parts of me are even happy at times. But I’m empty. My soul is empty. I just can’t fill that void. I don’t know that I ever will.

I haven’t written for a long time. It was too hard. Too sad. I didn’t want to expose myself. It was easier to hide. Smile. Pretend. And cry behind closed doors. Everyone has their cards. Their issues. Their crap. So mine is mine. I own it. How was this year different? Reality hit. You weren’t coming back. No more celebrations. No more hugs. No more holding hands. No more conversations. The first year? I muddled through the motions. Made changes. Adapted. Held on. But now? Time just passes. Days blend into each other. And then what? Where do I go from here? I don’t know. I feel stuck. My life was with you. My feet were planted. Grounded. And now they’re not. I’m drifting. And I want my feet back on the ground. gregger 1b

The move was good. Some thought I did it too soon. No. It was good for me. It was right. No regrets. I’m growing. I’m learning. I’m building. But it’s slow and steady. You gave me the framework. And I’m so grateful. I’d be flat on my face without that. I’m not. I’m standing. I’m strong. Stronger than I ever believed I could be. Thank you. But year two. It’s been a struggle. Stress. Sickness. Anxiety. Loss. Without you. Alone. That’s a mountain to climb. But I’ve survived. That is success.  

Year three? Who knows. I believe it’s a year of Hope. Happiness. Rebirth. And lots of love. For this family. We are ready. Arms open. Bring it on.

But for today, August 30th, we remember. We remember the loss. The love. And you. A beautiful blessing to all of us. We honor you. The incredible man you were. Husband. Father. Son. Brother. Friend. Humanitarian. The best of the best. Your smile. Your kind, giving heart. Your gentle soul. Forever missed. Forever loved. Forever etched in our memories.

Pitti Uomo June 14' 606

Gregger. 

02.05.1954 – 08.30.2014.

forgiveness

Forgiveness…An Act of Self-Love

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

forgiveness 3I was watching “Grey’s Anatomy” last night. Tearjerker. Life threatened. Heartache. And pain. Some may think it sappy. Overdone. Washed up. But the message was strong. Forgiveness. Of others. Those who hurt us. And ourselves. While Meredith was struggling to survive and overcome devastating injuries, she was faced with a greater battle. Forgive those who had beaten her. Left her. Hurt her. Anger is easier. Hate is simpler. Forgiveness is hard. But in the end, the one who doesn’t forgive is the loser. 

forgiveness 1Her beloved Derek had died last season. Unexpectedly. Before his time. Before “their” time.  She went back to life. But the anger flared. I understand. Webber advised her to forgive herself. She was angry.  At Derek. Not just for dying. But for dying too soon. Leaving her. Alone. I got it. The pain. The anger. The hurt. Tears streamed down my cheeks. It was as if he were talking to me. Through the airwaves. I am still mad at Gregger. How dare he? We had a whole life to live. Plans. Travel. A life to spend together. We were just getting started. And he cheated me. I don’t say that often. I am strong. Right? But maybe I’m not. I don’t say this often enough. And maybe I should. Maybe it’s the way to move on. Because lately, I just feel stuck. Maybe I need to forgive myself for being angry at him. For leaving me way too soon. And he did. I still go to the “what if’s.” I know I shouldn’t. But I do. What if we had gone on vacation somewhere else? What if he hadn’t gone snorkeling that day? What if I had made him walk with me on the beach instead? What if? What if? What if? I beat myself. Over and over and over again. But forgiveness is the key. I can’t go back. I know that. My brain knows that. But my heart isn’t there yet. They need to catch up. With each other.

forgivenessSo as sappy as it may be, thank you “Grey’s.” Thank you for the reminder. Forgiveness. I need to forgive, to let go. To move on. To live. Really live. Not in the past. The present. And I know that’s where Gregger would want me to be. So for today and tomorrow and I will…

  1. Release the guilt. Let it fly. It’s a heavy weight holding me down.
  2. Focus on the joy. The memories. The happy times.
  3. And recognize that letting go of hurt does not diminish my love for Gregger. Choosing to live, laugh and love again does not mean I love him any less. It may even mean I love him more. Because my heart is free. Of pain. Guilt. Anger. Hurt. Free to feel. Once again.

“Forgiveness does not change the past, but it does enlarge the future.”

I am ready to enlarge my future. So for today, I forgive. Me.

forgiveness 2