Tag Archives: grief

Dec 13 2025
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death

Losing Candles in the Wind.

I have had some extremely special people in my life recently lose extremely special people in their lives. Sadly, we are of that age. Those lives lost effected me too, as I was blessed to have those we lost as tacks on my map. My friends are a gift to me, and so were their family members. I didn’t know them so well, but I knew them well enough. In those friendships, it was a gift to call them friends. They were special and unique people, loved by many, lost to all; way too despicable and fast.

I am shuffling around my house in my slippers crying for my friends and their losses. Only because I know all too well what it’s like to lose. I am still not so okay getting over my father’s passing. It’s painfully lonely. I remember that there wasn’t much anyone could do or say that could make me even. Now, I feel so desperately lost and sad and under water with it all. I don’t know what to do with myself carrying my grief for them all. It’s certainly not about me, but I wish I could take their pain away.

I’m puttering: cleaning and crying and trying to deflect. What can I do? What can I say? No food, no flowers, no errands, maybe not even hugs can help me help them. How do we help our loved ones who lose loved ones? I wish I learned something from my Great Loss, so I can help others going through it, but it’s all blurry and messy and simply just still so painful.

I think the thing to do is just be present. Keep reaching out to offer help, lend an ear to listen, check in. Circle of life is what it is. We all are born and we all pass on. But it just hurts so much because when there is so much love created and connected, the loss is that much more profound. The more you love and are loved, the more it hurts to the core of the inner most middle center piece of your heart.

Every day, precious.

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Apr 12 2025
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Bible, death, depression, Marriage, mental health, random, writing

Sunsets and Peace and Connection, Oh My.

a.k.a. #lentphotoaday April 11 “PEACE”

I’m working my way through this day. The above angel mark was thick today and it was mighty. Before I sat on my back stoop and watched the sun set on a beautiful night, I had a hard day. I was extra lonely. My husband is out of town and we are usually our own bosom buddies when one of us is not working. Some things happened today that really made me sad. Life transitions are being clunky, but I know living here in this medicinal bubble of a home is keeping me afloat.

John 14:27. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

Many of us have heard a variation of this a million times during the gospel. You didn’t hear it always on the weekly rotation, but it was usually in the go-to options of the starting line-up.

The Biblical concept of PEACE encompasses total wholeness, total health, total welfare; the total of God’s blessings. PEACE is sprinkled ALLLLL over the Bible. It’s a strong vibe. Obviously because when there is chaos we seek to find PEACE.

This next one is taking up extra rental space in my head right now:

John 16:22 So also you have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you.

I’m tired.

Someone I love called me today upset. They missed their parent they recently lost. Boy, do I get it. It got us to talking about the paths our lives are taking and how sad it was that while they are making some dreams come true that their parent always championed, they were so filled with grief that they were missing it. I asked them if they think their loved one is really missing it? They thought for a more than a minute.

Because, I explained, I don’t think they are missing it. I think they are right here with us. Walking next to us. Holding out their hand, helping guide us, rooting for us, being our champions in Heaven. I feel my father all the time. I know he is with me. That’s just what I believe though. Some might call me crazy for sure. Whatevs. I explained further that life is so hard. But what I do know, very easily and with a lot of calmness and peace; that they indeed walk among us. It’s awful they are not physically here, it’s the very worst and we can do nothing to change it. But at least they are spiritually present. And that does give me PEACE.

I took myself outside for the sunset and sat on my stoop. I watched Sam the muskrat float by on his back, enjoying the vastness of the the lake before the docks go in, before the motors start humming, and the summer sounds start amping up. I saw the baby ducks scootch by with their families, and the geese making their way back to the hood. I wrapped up in my cardigan, leaned back on the banister and watched God’s show. I felt my Dad with me, winking to me that sunset. Thanks Daddy. It gave such good PEACE.

Love you.

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Feb 07 2022
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death, family, Getting old, kids, parenting, writing

Twinkle Toes: A Love Story to Dementia Dad.

The Sea Island sun blinds me when I look up to see your face. I stop-salute you and squint to block it from my eyes. You and your mustached-face looks down at me, smiling. You reach down to grab my nose and peek your thumb out of your knuckle sandwich. You hold it up and say, “got your nose!”

“Give it Back!” I yell, but I’m laughing and I’m chasing your serpentine. Back and forth, in and out of the water. I follow your footsteps and try to match them. I put my foot inside yours and I squish it all around. The waves are awfully loud, but I love them and then you grab me and give me my nose back.

I love any beach or water anywhere forever and ever and it’s because of moments like this. It’s safe, you are relaxed and it just means love. I have to run fast to keep up: one-two-three-four Heathersteps, in and out of the water, equal one big Daddystep. You laugh and stop and wait for me. Then you grab my hand. It’s so windy and the waves are so big and they break the silence in a way that makes me close my eyes and be happy. It smells so good. You are so tall and I look up at you and you laugh out the words, “hurry up, twinkle toes.”

I giggle when you take the shells I give you and you say “Ooooooooh, that’s a good one“.

I feel proud that I picked it and you put it in your pocket. I am twirling round and round with the sand between my toes. When I dizzy-stop, stumble and laugh, you are walking back. You’re done. I stop-salute and squint, watching you get smaller as you walk away. You yell back, “Go to mom now.“

***

I’m a bad actor and I can’t fake it anymore. I am screaming inside and crying and keening and wailing. Every tiny cell of me is tired. We are now in Defcon 1. I can’t control you. You can’t figure out reason or make sense of anything. There are not people in the corners trying to hurt you. You are not being poisoned. We are not trying to kill you. I wish I could rescue you from the alien world that you are living in your head. It seems so scary and mean and awful. I’d give anything to Stranger Things you outta there.

I spend hours trying to show you how much I love you. Even when I am not with you, I still worry and wonder if you are ok. I’m so sad that you are leaving me; that you have already kind of left. The other night in the wee hours, you were yelling at me:

You do not care if I die.

You are out to get rid of me.

You are not on my team.

You don’t have my back.

When you say these things, I can handle it. Your words bounce off me onto the floor. I can step on them a little and kick them under the couch. I know you don’t mean it. I know you are sick. I am tough and I can fight them off.

Your face looks so different now. I remember being little and tracing your face with my fingertips. “Oops…got your nose.”

I know you can no longer read your books; now it’s only faces. I am sorry that sometimes I don’t look at you when we talk. I try to make my face happy, but sometimes, I just can’t.

Feelings transition to some kind of desperation. I want someone there with me to see what I have to do. I need a wingman. I want someone to hug me. I need help with you. I need you to help me with you. I long for the dad I had, to give me advice about the dad I have now. I feel desert Island lonely.

This journey has given me some useful takeaways and Heather 2022 has a new criteria for friendship.: Choose the right people who deserve to hear your story. I love hearing stories of the people I love and I know they hear me back. There is nothing worse than realizing that someone don’t want all of the sides of you. I have been screaming from the inside of insides. I don’t have the energy to only listen and not be heard. I hope to replenish soon.

I think I am spending so much time writing this to procrastinate making phone calls. Calls to find somewhere we can move you away from the home that you worked so hard for and away from the life you knew. Can I call in a sub for this too? Inhale…exhale…

I took a night off from being with you last night to sleep in a real bed. Today, I head back to you and the couch. When I get in the car, I will cry. I will walk in the door with a smile. I will try not to lose it, but sometimes I do. You threw a box of tissues at me the other night. I karate-chopped it from my face and the box went flying. It was actually super funny. Wish you were there.

Love you,

Twinkle Toes

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