So how is Joy achieved? Where is it found? In thinking on this, the question arose in my mind of how Joy was stolen from me in the first place. What brought on the darkness and keeps it at the forefront of my mind? The death of my Father, of course; but there is something else: the dishonoring of his good name that goes on in my family even now. Because of this hatred, however unjust; they do not even find it in their hearts to let a dead man rest in peace. They remain calloused, showing no pity
What is Joy? What does it do for the heart? The soul? The mind? Does having Joy give one strength? These are all questions that passed through my mind as I was Spring cleaning the master bedroom yesterday. Nothing major. Cleaning. Decluttering. Reorganizing. Now, I am no expert; but I know a little. Command position? Check. Head North? Check. Not exactly Feng Shui, but better. Breezier. More liveable. Still, not free; not that freedom from darkness where I can finally exhale and breathe… and tha
This. Is. The. Worst. Week. The first of April indicates to me that I have 8 days until the next year mark. I'm never going to consider the 9th of April to be the "anniversary" of my husband's death. I'll always have a major issue with this subject because I've been convinced since I heard the details of the accident (2 weeks later): the woman who was driving, the reason our Acura rolled off the highway, she knew she would not make it through the wreck, she also deducted that Jeremy would be par
Well its that time of year. It was almost a year ago that DH passed away. The anniversary of his fall, I just couldn't stop thinking about it. In a few days is our wedding anniversary. Then 8 days later will be one year since he died. I've been dreaming more about him. At least these are not nightmares like some have been. These are more pleasant, more relaxing, more forgiving, and more loving. I'm not sure if its an okay to move on, or what, but I feel better in some ways than I did before. But
Since my Father died, I cannot stand the quiet. It sounds too much like Death. Today is no different. I have not a thought in my mind; yet, my spirit within me is screaming for rest. I do not know how to describe this profound quiet I hear; 'tis the sound of God vanishing. To be perfectly honest; 'tis the sound of no God at all. This was not always so with me; I used to have Joy in God, as though He were right beside me walking through life. Now? Nothing. Gone. Dead. Where has He gone? Is the gr
It seems unreal, from time to time, the fact that I lost so many loved ones in such rapid succession. Sometimes I want to pinch myself and wake up from the worst nightmare I've ever had. I think, sometimes that if I could just rewind time to February 6, 2019, and I could then pause time everyone I love would still be here.
I know that it's not possible for these ideas to ever happen, but a girl can dream.
The worst day of my life is when I lost my dad, Al. The second worst day of my life was when I lost my husband, Jeremy.
My father and my husband passed away 2 months and 2 days apart; Daddy's Angel Date 02/07/2019; Jeremy's Angel Date 04/09/2019, and I felt, for a while, like I had completely forgotten about dad. However, one day from out of nowhere, I heard my dad say, "You haven't forgotten to grieve me. I stepped back when you lost your husband. You will eventually be able to pro
Over the last 2 years, I have been aiming to be, striving to achieve, aspiring to become a woman who over the next 20 years, will just barely remember this time and the hurt that I have been since February 2019. I'm not talking about running off. What I am talking about is this: the day my husband died, a gigantic part of me died, too. What I'm doing is absolutely hypothetical and symbolic, but in this way I have to say, 'The person I was then, no longer exists. I buried her the day I told you g
There are times when I want to say, No, Father is not dead; he's simply gone on a long journey--but he's coming back. There are times when I cry and think surely Father will hear and come; that he will rise at the sound of his Baby's wailing, hold me to his heart and all would be well again. This thought comforts me for a time; the thought of him holding me high like when I was a baby; his eyes beaming up at me, his precious little daughter. But that is just a dream, like having an imaginary Fri
Today was better than yesterday, and tomorrow will be better than today.
I responded to a post on a women only site that requested we give love advice we should all live by and this is what my answer was:
Always Be Honest and Your Loyalty Will Never Come Into Question
I'm aimlessly ramblin'. I have adult ADHD and get bored pretty quickly so I will just start talking to hear myself talk.
There are a couple of people who have reached to some of my content, but I can't find anyone to send friend requests to.
Will you please let me know how to find you both, and could 1 (or both) of you please tell me how to find others? I would greatly appreciate it.
- Clever Pennywyze
There are things I have learned in this life since my Father died; things that help me claw myself out of Grief--this grief which feels like a dark presence in my soul. Writing is one of those things. My Father used to tell me, Keep thinking. Keep thinking and you will figure it out. Good words from a father who loved his daughter. One thing I recently learned helps me is mathematics. I was never any good at math in school; but I find now in this spirit-killing Grief that working out even simple
There is a loneliness that comes with grief; a now hollow and jagged heart that comes from being ripped in half. I call it the Death-Star-Heart. No joy. No hope. Just loneliness. There is a song lyric from decades ago that fits my heart since my Father died: Talkin' to myself and feelin' low. I feel it every day. There seems to be no moving past it. No comfort. My Father would say to stay close to God; but I do not feel His presence the way I did before MAYDAY, the day my Father died (May 2, 20
Most people I know call their fathers "Dad". I always called mine Father, with a capital F. Why? I think because of the way he carried himself in life. "Dad" did not seem to fit him; it sounded too playful, like "Daddy". He was not one to play; but neither do I mean he was cold. Father was a joy to me, just to talk to. And talk we did, indeed.
Since his death three years ago this May 2nd, I learned that those who have been the coldest toward me in my grief; those who disliked my Father and
There is a certain heaviness of body and soul in carrying the burden of grief through this world; as though you are carrying the weight of your loved one on your back and, if you do not push against it, your knees will buckle and you will collapse under the burden. I feel as though I am carrying both me and my Father through life now, the little carrying the big--and at times I fear I will not be able to continue; but at the same time I fear laying down my burden. Something, strange though it mi
What is life now that he is gone; now with this thing called Grief dogging my steps all the day long? I have been told I had an especially close relationship with my Father--closer than most; and I think that is true. I was his Baby; and he and I were two peas in a pod. Many a time he just needed a sympathetic ear to listen, someone who understood his pain, and I was blessed to be that to him. I will never forget it. There were times where we would just sit and talk, even all day; not a holiday
I just wanted to share with everyone a few moments of reprieve I felt these last few days. They were shortlived; but for those moments I actually felt alive again, like there is hope after all of life after grief. It doesn't sound like much, just a few moments; but after nearly 3 years of uninterrupted, abysmal despair, these few moments were like precious drops of cool, clear water to a parched and dying woman.
So what was I doing when these moments of reprieve happened? Just living. Groc
Its March and I'm dreading this month and next. This is the year anniversary of my DH fall, the fall that began his quick and untimely demise. Its like I feel it more now. The memories come back, during the day, and at night in my dreams. Its more like a slow moving nightmare than just a dream. It hits me, at all the wrong times. Its like suddenly a memory just flits across, unbidden, whether I want it or not. I wondered how I would feel. How I would take this time.
The first year, the year
My Father and I were like two peas in a pod. He called me Baby. His Baby. I knew no one else like him; there were times growing up when I was terrified of him; but as I grew I came to know his love, and knew I could never do anything that would make him stop loving me. Although everyone I knew (aside from a very small handful) found him objectionable, even his own family; he was my best friend. I never understood why people disliked him so much. Most of them have gone on their way; they have mov
Here in Texas we've just survived a set of snow and ice storms. Its the worse weather we've had in decades. We even broke records for snow (7" here), ice, and 6 days (144 hours) of weather 32 or below. I've fared okay, the house is okay, the dogs are okay. Technically I should be fine. Except I've been missing Bill so much. Covid and social distancing has had its own problems. But I realize how close I am to an edge spending a week without being around anybody, I feel like its breaking me.
I'm sharing this because maybe it will make it more real. I still feel like I'm in a nightmare. Kind of like this situation isn't real. I was shown in counselling the "wave" of grief. My conscious mind won't even let me hit the peak of "said" wave. I'm just a surfer out on a calm day....waiting....waiting for the water break. Preparing myself for the ultimate wave to come, knowing I'm going to fall and break myself when it comes. I'm not sure whats worse. The anticipation or the actual scenario.