Monthly Archives: January 2014

I’m just saying…


I share a lot…
I’m an open book much to my dear husband’s chagrin…
He would say, “Dang hon, do you have to share sooooo much?”
Lol… Bless his departed introverted heart.
I’m not bipolar, though at times the grieving process feels like that…

I’m up and then I’m down…
I’m happy, then I’m sad…
Honestly, it’s kind of annoying.
People are living, and I’m kind of stuck in this mud standing sill…
I try to move forward, and then one glance at a picture of us takes me twenty steps back.
I know that it will take time.
But I’m a very impatient person.
I don’t like to wait.
For anything.
Ask me how forty weeks of five pregnancies was for me…
(Poor Robert)
Please don’t tell me you have something to tell me,
but that you’ll tell me later…
That is like kryptonite to my soul!
(Yes, put that shoe on your foot Deanna!)
But I digress…
It’s not about me..
It’s about what God is doing in me…
Its about the lives that our story has touched.
It’s about God’s purposes in all of this and he’s got plenty…
So, please, be patient with me,
or with anyone else that you know that is grieving…
If we’re having a good day, then rejoice with us…
If we’re having a tough one full of tears, cry with us…
Please don’t expect us to “just get over it.”
A lifetime of loving someone doesn’t just heal overnight.
It takes time.
And honestly, I don’t think we will ever stop missing our loved ones.
Time may heal my wounds, but the scar will be ever present.
I’ve had some widow friends who have expressed
their own concerns and how they feel alone.
Months have gone by and people move on with their lives
and we feel forgotten,
because honestly; we’re broken…
And… We still need our friends…
We still need someone
to kidnap us for coffee or dinner,
or a text to just check in on us.
When you’re wounded,
sometimes you can’t reach out for help…
My eyes have been opened
to a lot in terms of being a widow;
that ugly word that still sounds foreign to me…
My heart goes out to anyone
that has lost a loved one.
It’s hard, but God is faithful.

I guess overall, my point is this…
You don’t have to understand
what we’re (us grieving folk) are going through;
just love us through it.
If you’re having a hard day,
multiply that by 1,000
and then imagine the same day
without your husband or wife.
That’s where we live.
It’s not your responsibility to take care of us…
But it doesn’t take much to send a text or a card.
We need our friends.
And I write this after speaking
to three different widows
that I’m blessed to know and
are experiencing the same thing…

We may look like we’re bipolar,
and that may make you feel uncomfortable,
but just imagine if you were in our shoes.
We’re just hurting and trying to cope.
We don’t understand all of the feelings that we have,
we’re just trying to make it through the day.

A friend came over today and we just talked.
She dusted for me.
She helped me unpack a few boxes that needed putting up.
Not a big deal;
except that I was able to talk to an adult instead of my kids…
I love my kiddo’s, but I’m with them 24 hours a day.
They’re awesome, but they talk about legos,
and star wars, and video games and my pretty pony…
As much as I enjoy our conversations
about whether the Hulk could beat Superman;
adult interaction is nice from time to time.

And this is not to make anyone feel bad or guilty…
That’s not what I’m about or who I am…
It’s just what’s on my heart…
You have to pray and ask God how you can help those in need…

For those friends that get it right, thanks…
From all of us. (us widows)
Thanks for calling, and texting,
and for sending cards and letters
when all of the cards and letters
have stopped coming.
Thanks for coming over for dinner,
and for taking my kids to the park,
and to the nail shop.
Thanks for praying for us
and for listening to my whining,
and for wiping my tears
with your kind and wise words.
I appreciate you,
and I speak for my other widow friends as well,
I know they appreciate you too.


Memories of us…

IMG_1169The dark room was quiet, save the muted purr of the oxygen machine tucked in the corner behind the cold steel hospital bed. She sat quietly praying as her husband lay in bed, laboring to breathe. His eyes were closed; and she gently wiped the sweat forming on his brow. She sighed. How did we get here? She took his hand in hers and traced his wedding band with the tip of her finger. She thought back to the day she had placed the band there. He was so handsome. So strong. Buff. She remembered feeling like she was the luckiest woman in the world on that day. The day she slipped that gold band on his hand and became his wife. She remembered his smile. Oh, that smile. It was beautiful. It lit up his entire face. His chiseled handsome face that now belonged to her. His coarse cough brought her back to reality as she looked up and saw him gazing at her. His eyes, once bright and full of life, now a mere glimmer of what once was. “I’m sorry baby,” he whispered hoarsely. Sorry? Did he just apologize? “Sorry for what honey?” she asked. “I’m sorry I’m sick,” he whispered. “I’m sorry you have to take care of me; I’m sorry you’re sad. I hate to see you so sad.” He grabbed her hand with what little strength he had, and held it tightly. “I love you woman.You’ve been an amazing wife and a good mother and a wonderful friend. I love you girl; forever.” The tears came now, in a flood. What could she say to that? How could she answer him; this man who had held her heart captive for so very long? She wanted to say something deep; something profound. But what came out was much simpler than she had planned. “If you tell me you’re sorry again; I’ll punch you in the face. I’m your wife; I love you. This is what we do. You’d do it for me. It’s an honor to care for you honey.” He smiled, that brilliant smile of his warming her heart for the millionth time. “I love you woman,” he said softly once more. “I know; I love you too baby; always.” She bent down and gently kissed his hand, tracing the form of his ring with her finger once again. “Always, Robert,”she said looking at him. “Always…”

Little girl sings…

That moment when your teen comes in and repeats what your four year old is singing as she does her morning chores….

“I love my Daddy, he’s the best.. I know he’s gone and he’s never coming back…

He’s in our hearts, but we just miss our Daddy…

We miss our Daddy, miss our Daddy…”

Brings tears to my eyes…
She’s four…
She loved her Daddy…
Loved climbing up into his lap
and resting her little face on his chest…
She only remembers him being sick.
She only remembers hospital stays and treatments..
She was two when he got sick.
But more than that,
she remembers how much
her Daddy loved her and
how special he made her feel.
She always says that she’s a princess;
and she is…
But she’s a princess because
her Daddy told her she was first.
He told her she was the daughter of a king.
He told her about God, and how much he loved her…
How he sent his son to die for her…
That’s what a Father does guys…
I miss her Daddy too, and I’m glad, that one day,
we will see him again…
But even more exciting is the thought that
I’ll get to meet the King of my heart,
the one who blessed us with her awesome Daddy…

Make it count y’all, make every moment count for something…

Unexpected kisses and falling in love…

Having a chihuahua and a mix breed small horse of a dog is interesting to say the least. The “puppy” i.e. horse, loves the chihuahua and vice versa. It’s wonderful.

Except that they chase each other through the house like lunatics and horse dog just slid into the wall almost taking my drapes down. These “boys” of mine keep us entertained for sure.

I awakened to two huge paws on the side of my bed and a sloppy overly wet puppy dog kiss. The chihuahua, not to be outdone, jumps onto the bed and subsequently my back as if he’s climbed mount Rainier mocking the horse dog… Horse dog attempts to jump onto the bed and instead hits me in the face as he clumsily falls to the floor.

I have to say, it’s crazy.
This is my life now…
Six months ago I would have screamed at the dog (singular) for being anywhere near my bed.
Now we have two dogs…
(What was I thinking?)
Or was this just one of God’s ways of taking care of us? Of sending us a hug that we so badly needed?

I thank God for it.
The little things, the little blessings.
The way Oreo (chihuahua) snuggles into bed with the girls each night…
Something I might add, that didn’t occur until Robert passed away.
The way Thor (horse dog) runs and leaps on you only to wrap his ginormous paws around your neck and nuzzle himself into a hug.
These puppies that love my kiddos and help them through their grief; help us through our grief. God can use anything. He’s just awesome like that.

And so; the woman who didn’t want dogs, who didn’t want the huge responsibility of one more thing, has thus become a dog person. I’ve fallen in love with them, albeit begrudgingly at first. Yes, God can use anything to minister to a broken heart. He’s using these crazy dogs to heal ours…


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