Tag: memories

Happy Birthday Gregger!

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

Scan 14 (1)Happy Birthday, Gregger! #62! Today we celebrate YOU! Not the life you lost. But the life you LIVED! The love you shared. The joy you radiated. Your smile. Your laughter. Your grace and humility. A son. Brother. Father. Husband. And friend. Everyone’s friend. Those lucky enough to cross your path loved you. Minutes, days, years, or a lifetime. A shake of your hand, a smile, a kind word. You touched peoples’ hearts. You left a mark. So we celebrate YOU.

2012…We celebrated at Dominick’s and went to Old Town to party with the young folk! What the heck were we thinking? I don’t think we lasted very long. Our ears couldn’t take it! But we laughed. Loved. And cheered.

2013…San Diego. Park Hyatt Aviara. Food tasting for Ashley and Tyler’s fabulous wedding! Didn’t get much better than that! Until…

DSC_05982014…#60! I will hang onto this memory. FOREVER! Our last birthday. Best one yet! In forty years I never pulled off a surprise. Much less a BIG one! But I got you. And I got you good. After lying in a hospital bed for a week, you never suspected I’d be up for anything, much less a party. Your “real” birthday was quiet. No big shebang. You worked tirelessly at home all day. Orders. Ryan stopped by before work. I felt guilty. I didn’t want you to be disappointed. But I knew what was in store. The weekend. I made your favorite dinner. Chicken parm. Baked potato. Jamesons. Dairy Queen. Quiet night. But it was good. Better was yet to come. We had a “date” night Saturday.  Old friends. Great friends. I needed your car. You loved when I drove you to work. I knew that wouldn’t be a problem. It wasn’t. More time to be together. Lucky me. I was a wreck. This day seemed like forever. We got to the restaurant. I could barely control my shaking hands, much less my trembling heart.  We headed back, hand in hand. You were ready to watch the Suns game. I’ll never forget the shock when you saw those bleachers stacked high. Friends and family shouting, “Happy Birthday, Gregger!” But the surprises didn’t end there. First Ashley and Tyler. Jeff and Keena. Your bromance, David. And my sis, Suzy. Overwhelming. Love. Joy. A celebration of YOU. It was time. Little did I know that 7 months later I would be “celebrating” your life in a whole different way. This was good. Great. We danced. Laughed. And just let go. We Had Fun. You even said, “This is the 6th best night of my life.” I wasn’t offended. I knew where that stood. And 6th was GREAT. It ranked right where it should. Behind births and weddings. I got it. You were so right.

DSC_0672So now I continue to celebrate YOU. The YOU that makes me smile. Makes my heart beat a little bit faster. And makes tears fall when I try holding them back. My soulmate. My best friend. Thank you for blessing me with your love. I can only hope you felt blessed with mine too. Happy Birthday, Gregger. With Jameson’s in hand, Cheers to you my love! You made this world a better, brighter, happier place. And today it is sparkling! I love you!

birthday

once upon a time

Once Upon A Time…It Really Was True

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

IMG_2353So it’s funny how life has a way of coming full circle. I was up to my eyeballs in packing crap! Boxes stacked sky-high. Body bruised and battered. Would this never end? And then, amidst the chaos, another Gregger miracle appeared.

A box stuffed with letters from our dating days. Handwritten. Stacked and bound with an old, worn rubber band. Ready to snap. Where to begin? A letter from December 17th, 1974. 23 days before he proposed to me. So telling. And so much a part of this “fairytale.” It was winter break at ASU. I was flying home to St. Louis. With nothing but a “vomit bag” to write on, my love message was truly something to cherish. Who would save such a thing but my Gregger?  The words were a simple reminder of how blessed we were to have 40 years together. The ups, downs, highs, lows, and in-betweens. None of that mattered. It was life. And it made it all worthwhile. It made me a better person. It made us a better couple. But this letter. WOW!

Dear Greg,

     I know this isn’t the most desirable stationary you’ve ever seen (the vomit bag!), IMG_2350but right now it is the only thing that is available. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I stepped out the door, and I know it isn’t going to get any easier. I just never believed this day would actually come (leaving each other), but I guess I can say the same about December 31st (I was going to Council Bluffs to visit and meet his family). We only have better times to look forward to now because the hardest part is practically over (separating). I never believed I could actually feel this way about anyone, but the past years of waiting have all proved to be well worthwhile. As I have said so many times before, you’ve given me everything that any person could ever want from life. As far as I’m concerned I am the luckiest person alive! Sitting here thinking about the past THREE MONTHS (Yes! That is all we’d been together!) it just seems as though everything is too good to be true. I feel like we’re characters from a FAIRYTALE and I hope our “ENDING” will be “HAPPILY EVER AFTER.”   IMG_2351That’s the only ending I ever want to see because I’m just not all there without you. Sweetheart, for the first time in my life I have found out what it really means to share your life with someone else and to develop  mutual feelings of love and trust. Love is a two-way street, a mutual give-and-take relationship, and I think we’ve found the right direction down the road. Sure, we’ve had our fights, big and small, but that’s all part of love and life. As long as we remember that those fights are only because we love and care, then we can never really be hurt by it. Many of our arguments have even brought us closer together because we are able to talk our differences over. I am glad to be going home for only one reason. I can’t wait for my parents to see how happy I really am because they haven’t seen me this way for so long. Greg, although I’ve said it a million times before, I owe all that happiness to you. I just hope I have made you as happy and given you as much love and understanding as you have given me. I honestly feel that we have grown together. We met as two separate individuals with our own thoughts and feelings and have united together as one. My hopes and dreams are no longer for my personal benefit, but for you and your happiness, and, even more, for “us.” It’s funny that even though we are so far apart, I still feel you are with me and that we’re as close as ever before. I miss you already. I love you.  

20 years old. 3 months together. I knew. And I never stopped knowing. It was a fairytale. We had the happily ever after. We just didn’t have the perfect ending. But I’m not sure anyone ever does. Gregger, you are with me every day. You always will be. You are my heart. You are my soul. You are my forever. I love you.

love letters 3

Hidden Treasures

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

”No matter where you are on your journey, that’s exactly where you need to be.  The next road is always ahead.”

love letters 4So for four weeks I needed to just be. I needed to feel. To laugh. To cry. To sit in the silence. I was surrounded by memories. Overwhelmed. Gregger was everywhere. A million reminders of our life together. I sorted through the “stuff.” What to save. What to toss. Everything was symbolic. Significant. Meaningful. But it was time to purge. I just wasn’t ready to let go. To some they were “things.” To me, a lifetime. Cards. Letters. Notes. His handwritten words. It was all I had left. I read them over and over. The message was the same. He wanted more time. With me. The kids. Tackling the daunting task of facing Gregger’s drawers, I was overwhelmed by the treasures buried beneath his underwear, socks, sweaters, and magnificent silk pocket squares. Tattered cards. Yellowed, faded envelopes. Hand-scrawled letters dating back 41 years! Airmail postage still intact. Folded notes. From me. The kids. Every last one. Birthdays. Anniversaries. Father’s Day. Just Because I Love You. Really? I knew I was sentimental. I saved them all. But I had no idea! Guys just don’t save those things. They read and toss. Right? Not Gregger. And this was my gift. A reminder of our life. Our love. Something for me to hold on to, just when I needed it most. Just when I was falling apart and needed to hear his voice. It came to me.

Amongst the piles of cards and letters, one stood out. “I don’t need a special holiday to tell you how much I love you.” And the words inside brought me to tears. It was always the same. He was a giver. A doer. But, in the end, what he really wanted was more time.

IMG_2352Dear Mikki,

     I found this card and I could not pass it  up. You have put up with me through another retail holiday season. I know it has not been easy, but overall (not sure what that meant!) you have been terrific! You certainly have learned not only to cope with it, but have learned how to handle me. This has been a very stressful time for me. Not only have I not been able to spend time with the person I care about most, but I could not find that special gift that YOU deserve. You know it means very much to me to enjoy this day with you and the kids. You told me once that buying a present was supposed to be fun, so my present is to spend a WHOLE day with YOU. To me that would be the MOST FUN! I love you very much!

We got that day. And more along the way. But if I’d only known. I would have cherished every moment so much more. I would have held on tighter. Let things go. And just been the two of us. Every. Single. Time. I can’t go back. But I can hold onto those memories. Remember his words. His smile. And his huge heart.

To be continued…

love letters 2

growth

The Second Year…Keep It coming

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

growing 1So year two. Every day is something new. An adventure in learning. In growing. I never know what to expect. But there are things I know for sure.

  1. Wake up every day with a purpose. Simple. Huge. Whatever. Just something.
  2. Actions speak louder than words. It’s not what you say. It’s what you do that really matters.
  3. Life is about dealing with disappointments. Expectations. The way I deal with them can make me or break me. Let it go.
  4. Reality. Being alone sucks. I used to love my alone time. Not so much anymore. Give me one more day with Gregger. I would cherish it more than all my days on earth.
  5. Communicate. It’s the key to ALL relationships. Everything breaks down FAST without it. Talk. Don’t text. Don’t email. TALK. Face to face. Go back to the real stuff. It works.
  6. Listen to my gut. Intuition. It’s usually the truth. It never guides me in the wrong direction.
  7. Memories are treasures. Some make me laugh. Some make me cry. But I never want them to go away.
  8. Some friends stay. Some go. Don’t try to hold on. It hurts. Give energy to the ones who are present.  let go (1)
  9. Family. It matters. In the end, it’s the greatest gift. Hold. On. Tight.
  10. Don’t take things for granted. Nothing is certain. Time. Life. People. Moments.
  11. Be grateful. Take a moment every day just to say “thanks.” For something. It makes sense of the rest of the world. At least it does for me.

growing

 

So year two. I am learning. Something new every day. Today I learned that I love talking about Gregger’s death. The what’s, where’s, why’s, and how’s. It keeps his spirit alive. It brings peace to my day. So don’t be afraid to ask. Don’t be afraid to mention his name. He’s with me. Always. So for today. I’m good. Year two.

a new year

A New Year

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

new beginningsLast week marked the beginning of a New Year. Not the one with midnight cheers, champagne, and football. But one with similarities. The Jewish New Year. Rosh Hashanah, a time for resolutions, new beginnings.  I don’t typically pay attention to this. I wish others well. Send cards (on occasion). I have a fleeting thought. But I am not observant. I don’t go to temple. I don’t do big family dinners. We really never did. Maybe we should have. It just didn’t happen.

So why am I thinking about it this year? A time of reflection. Soul searching. New beginnings. What better time to reflect than now? What better time to start fresh? Every day is a new beginning for me. Why not look at this as a sweet beginning?

forgive 2It is also a time for forgiveness. Freedom. Letting go. “I’m sorry.” Two of the hardest words to say. Often two of the hardest words to accept. But without forgiveness, we stay trapped. So many times I believed stronger, bigger, better. Anger and resentment protected me from hurt. But, in reality, I was the prisoner. Consumed with negativity. Distrust. The only way out was letting go. But forgiveness does NOT excuse, justify or forget. Forgiveness shows us the path to peace.

What about self-forgiveness? Tough. Nearly impossible. Another trap. If I mess up, I’m a bad (wife, mom, friend, daughter, fill in the blank!). Not so. It’s part of life. I messed up. Or I did the best I could. Whatever the case. Own up. Make amends. Learn and let it go. Beating myself up. Pointless. Useless. Forgive. Find peace.

So as this New Year begins, I will seek peace. Through new beginnings. Forgiveness. And acceptance. Of those I love. And, mostly, myself.

forgive 3

Happy New Year! May it be a happy and healthy one for all!

starting over

The Second Year…Starting Over

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

death year 2 2As I roll into year two, I wonder, what will be different? Instead of climbing upward, I seem to be spiraling down. Not a great feeling. I thought I had a handle. Thought I was in control. Two hands on the wheel. Steering straight ahead. But there’s a fork in the road. And I’m not sure which way to turn. Right? Left? Ugh! No one gave me a road map for this. No directions on how to get through. So I close my eyes, turn and see where I land.

So here’s the deal. The first year I was cruising. I kind of knew what to expect. All the grieving process. They tell you about it. Whatever you feel, it’s okay. Denial. Check. Anger. Check. Bargaining. Check. Depression. Never got there. Acceptance. Check. And now I’ve graduated. Second year. A milestone in my grief journey. But here’s reality. It’s harder. It’s real.  

Year one. In some ways, that was the easy year. I had excuses. Greg had just died. I was dealing. One month. Three months. Six months. Whatever the time. I was dealing. And everyone was okay with that. Right away people were there. Lots of people. And slowly they disappeared. They had their own lives. Life goes on. And so did they. I got it. Some people stayed. But I needed to find my way. Discover me. I started the journey. Writing. My road to discovery. I wrote about our love. Our past. Our memories. Gregger. It kept everything alive. But now what? I want to keep writing. It’s my way of talking. When there’s no one here, I can “tap, tap, tap” away. I can erase, rewrite, over and over again. No one answers back. But I get to empty out my brain. I lovingly call this my “drug of choice.” Here’s what I’ve learned so far:

SAMSUNG
SAMSUNG

I survived the first year. Yeah me! But now I’m faced with a whole new set of circumstances. Suddenly things are very real. Undeniable. I know he’s gone, but I still keep expecting him to show up. My head knows he won’t. But my heart wishes he will. I don’t want to believe. But I know I must. And that’s the real truth. Battle of brain and heart. And not a damn thing I can do about it.

I passed all the tests. I’ve taken care of things all year. “B.S.” crap. Things I never thought I’d be able to handle. But I did. Yeah me! I’m proud of myself, but I never wanted the job. Still don’t.

So the part that still sucks. Every morning I get in my car. I’m okay. And then some “mushy” song comes on. And there’s Gregger. All around me. My heart beats. Fast. I see him in the clouds. I hear him in my head. And I fight back the tears. It still happens. Year two.

I feel uncertain. I made decisions. I made changes. But now what? Where do I go from here? I made it through year one. Now, what do I do in year two? What’s the game plan? All of a sudden I feel lost again. Gregger, I need you back to tell me what to do. But you’re not coming. I must figure this out alone. And that’s the part that sucks. Reality.

I’ve lost time. What happened to the past year? Where did it go? Did I just lose it? What will happen to the next year? And the one after that? I don’t just want them to fly away with grief. I want to live. I know the sadness will creep in. I know I will cry. I know I will be angry. But in between those moments there has to be life. I don’t want to lose any more time. It’s far too precious.  death year 2

My patience is waning. With people, things, myself. Little things. Stupid things. I need to breathe. Take a moment. Realize that it will be okay. I don’t like this side of me. But I need to accept. It’s all part of the process. Grief.

I need a plan. Something to look forward to. A future. Something with promise. Anything but just “being.” I’m not sure what that is. When I know, it will be exciting.

This is a beginning. Facing the truth. Reality. Watch out year 2. I’m coming.

death year 2 3

all the words

It’s All in the Words

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

wayne 3I love quotes. Starting collecting years ago. Pages and pages. Categorized. Alphabetized. A little obsessed. But I love my quotes. At times, they comfort me. I find solace in the words. Peace. When life becomes difficult, I find words. It works. For me. I recently “lost” one of my favorite motivators. And what I discovered about his loss was even more remarkable. The parallels to my life. The connections. Unreal. He died on August 30th. One year after Gregger’s passing. Same day. In Maui. The same place Gregger left this earth. Dr. Wayne Dyer. A self-help guru who made sense of my world when it was upside down. Real words that lifted me. Made me think. Recharged my batteries. And helped me focus on abundance, gratitude, and blessings when life seemed anything “but.” wayne 2

Good morning world. Words of positivity. A focus. Why not? “Be miserable. Or motivate yourself. Whatever has to be done, it’s always your choice.” So what are my options? At this point. Only one. Move forward. Keep one foot in front of the other. Lately it has not been as easy. I am trudging. Digging my foot out of the sand. I was so sure of my direction. I am sure. But life is moving slower than I want. So I’m struggling with decisions. And my anchor is no longer here. I can’t ask for his help. What do I do? I have to decide alone. Much harder now.

“When you dance, your purpose is not to get to a certain place on the floor. It’s to enjoy each step along the way.” So I try. Enjoy the moments. But when I want to get there faster, it’s hard. When I want to get to the finish line and hurdles keep coming, what do I do? I keep jumping higher. Faster. More passion. More intensity. Eye on the prize.  

“It makes no sense to worry about things you have no control over because there’s nothing you can do about them, and why worry about things you do control? The activity of worrying keeps you immobilized.” So very true. Let it go! I keep trying to control the uncontrollable. Sell the house. Make the move. Settle down. Impossible! All I can do is sit back and let the cards fall where they may. It would just be easier if I could lay them out. Perfectly. One on top of the other. Stacked. In order. But life is not about order. Plans. Or control.

“You cannot always control what goes on outside. But you can always control what goes on inside.” So for today. Tomorrow. And the weeks to come, I will try. Because that’s the best I can do. Try.

wayne

prayer

The Power of Prayer

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

prayer 4I am veering off path for a moment. This is not about a fairytale. Not about loss. Not about moving on. It’s not even about me. Or Gregger. I woke up yesterday morning and was smacked in the face. Again. In the past several months, I have encountered so much heartache. Pain. Sickness. Death. Not necessarily in my life. But in the lives of others. Friends. Acquaintances. Family. Strangers. I’ve learned. Everyone has “something.” Some have it a little “better.” Some a little “worse.” How that is defined, I’m not really sure. I keep getting punched. In the gut. The heart. When does it stop? I don’t think it does. It’s all part of life.

I cried this morning. Not for me. But because I felt helpless. I wanted to reach out. Touch. Do something. For a friend. Fighting a battle. I know this must be what others felt when Gregger died. Not knowing what to say. What to do. Wanting to be there. To hug. To hold. Just to be. But you can’t always do that. So you feel helpless. As I do now. And the answer that came to me was prayer. Odd for someone who is nonobservant. But prayer has no boundaries. It is a message of hope. It transcends all denominations, all beliefs. Never too young or old. Prayer can be silent or spoken. It can simply be a time of reflection. A time to be grateful. A time to seek comfort. A time to ask. A time to be mindful. prayer 1

I believe there is power. Power in prayer. Power in positivity. Messages of strength. Hope. Faith. And love. I felt this and continue to feel this every day. If we each send one word, one thought of positivity to those who are suffering, those in pain, our prayers can be an impenetrable force. So I am asking. My friends. Family. Band together. Today. Tomorrow. For my friend. For others. For those you know. And those you don’t know. Those who are hurting. Those who need a little more hope. A little more love. Whatever you choose. However, you choose to do it. A powerful message to light up the world. Let’s make this happen. It’s the greatest hope for a brighter tomorrow.

Thank you. I love you all. Peace.

prayer 3

struggle

Struggling

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

grief in waves 3I don’t know why I’m having so much trouble lately. Well, maybe I do. My life is in disarray. Turmoil. Disorder. I like order. Control. I feel as though I’m on the edge of a teeter-totter. Hanging down. Bouncing up. Teetering side to side. Not sure where I’ll land on any given day. Unsettling. It makes it difficult to find the words. But sometimes they come from other places. Just when I need it most. My son, Ryan, sent me beautiful words today. Words that made sense of my unsettled world. Words that brought me onto a straight plane. Rather than one that was teetering off balance.

grief in waves 2After feeling unsettled at a social event, these words comforted me. I no longer felt as alone as I did standing there. Standing and staring at couples holding hands. Watching couples interact. Thinking about once being a part of a pair. And now being just one. I wanted to wear a banner. A t-shirt. “My husband was so amazing God made him an angel and he watches me from above.” Truth. Or, “I’m not a widow. I’m a wife. My husband awaits me on the other side.” Truth. But, the real truth. I am a widow. And driving away, I felt sad. Empty. The teeter had tottered to the ground. I just had to figure out how to bring it back up. These words reminded me. It’s all part of the journey. It never goes away. It just changes. Grief. It will always be a part of me. Sometimes it will hide in my pocket. Other times, it will pop out and hit me smack in the face.

grief in waves“Grief. You’ll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you’re drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it’s some physical thing. Maybe it’s a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it’s a person who is also floating.For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.” I have been here. I have survived this wave. I have hung on. Gregger’s wedding band hangs around my neck. He is always close to my heart. I see his face on my phone, my computer, all around my house. He is near. These are the memories that keep him alive.

“In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don’t eve give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you’ll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what’s going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything…and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life. Somewhere down the line, and it’s different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you’ll come out. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don’t really want them to. But you learn that you’ll survive them. And other waves will come. And you’ll survive them too. If you’re lucky, you’ll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.”

This 75-foot wave caught me off guard. I wasn’t prepared. I should have been. A year later I know the signs. But I’ve been on cruise control. I’ll ride the wave. Let it crash into shore. Feel the pain. And sail out again. The scars I bear will be a testament to the life we had together. One filled with love, laughs, and memories. One that I was not ready to give up. One that ended far too soon. But one that I cherish with all my heart. I will survive this wave. And the next. And the one after that. Knowing that the ride is all part of the journey. My journey. To find peace.

grief in waves 4

the silence

The Silence

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

silenceFor the past year, I have spent more time in the space of my mind than I have for the past 61 years. I never really thought about the time I was alone. I filled the spaces. I knew the emptiness was short-lived. I knew Gregger was always coming back. To fill the space. The silence. But living alone is different. Hours go by without speaking. Hours where it’s just me. Inside my head. And I have to decide. Good thoughts. Bad. Angry. Sad. I have control. I can turn the switch. On. Off. Louder. Softer. I can change the “station.” Change my thoughts. Change my attitude. It sounds so elementary. Technically it is. Emotionally, maybe not.

silence 2I enter my “space” and immediately want noise. Lucy greets me with yaps, tongue kisses. But then the silence is deafening. I can overstimulate with TV or computers, but that doesn’t fill the “space.” It doesn’t answer back. It’s still silent. It’s still just me. Find the peace.

Being the oldest of five, I grew up in noise. I didn’t know the meaning of silence. I’d hide in my room to escape noise. But I’d find more noise. TV. Music. Phone. I cannot fall asleep without background TV. Gregger and I fought over the sleep timer. He’d turn it on. I’d turn it off. Noise all night long. Anything to block out the silence.

“Silence is not an absence of sound but rather a shifting of attention toward sounds that speak to the soul.”

silence 1I think back to my first Savasana. The final pose in yoga. The deepest pose of relaxation when all thoughts should leave the mind. Impossible. I could not do it. I would check off my grocery list. Plans for the week. Where I needed to go. What I needed to do. Anything but emptying my mind. Slowly, I began to experience the silence. I quieted my mind and as I drifted away, I would bring it back to the emptiness. At first, I lasted 15 seconds. Soon it was 30 seconds. And, before I knew it, I was able to be “silent” for the full savasana. I did not want it to end. Sometimes tears trickled down my cheeks. Where did they come from? I’d open my eyes and taste the saltiness in my mouth. I was deep in silence, yet somewhere else.

I go back to this “space” now. But I don’t need a mat. A class. A special room. I can be anywhere. My eyes open. Heart open. Mind open. The “silence” is my friend. I now have the courage to look inside. It has taken me on this journey of grief. It has helped me discover me at a difficult time. But I’ve realized I can survive. Silence is my friend. It teaches me. To befriend myself. To listen. To learn. To be mindful. Without the “silence,” there would be no time for growth. No time to feel. The joy. The sadness. The anger. The love. The hope. And what could be better than that.

Sit in the silence. Listen. To your heart. Your soul. Your breath. Your feelings. No judgments. No critiques. No scrutiny. Find your peace. It is there. Waiting for you. The serenity of silence.

Take a moment of silence to remember today…

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