Tag: grief

Don’t tell me how to grieve

So, you’ve moved on and life is back to normal. Good for you.

I am still grieving. In my own way. We are not the same and, therefore, do not grieve the same. I’m happy you have moved through all the stages of grief and are doing well. I have not and you can’t tell me where I should be or how I should honor the memory of the people I have lost.

Have you checked to see how other grievers are doing? Have you responded to messages they have sent checking on YOU? No? Well, that says a LOT about you!

Don’t tell me not to post “happy heavenly birthday” or “happy (name a holiday) in heaven”. This is how I keep my happy memories alive. I’m going to go and remember the happy memories. I wish one of you could remember with me. But you have moved on.

Clearing the Garden

My mind is a garden, tender and wide,
where bright blooms flourish when given the sky.
But shadows creep in, with thorn and with weed,
draining the roots of the light that I need.

I’ve learned to be gentle, yet firm with my ground,
to pull up the voices that drag spirits down.
The ones who bring poison, resentment, and spite,
I lay at the gate, and I turn toward the light.

For peace is a harvest, not gathered by chance,
but grown when we guard what deserves to advance.
In silence and sunlight, the soul can repair—
once freed from the weight of a toxic despair.

So I tend to my garden with patience and care,
inviting in kindness, refusing what tears.
For preserving my spirit means learning to see:
Not all who approach are meant to grow with me.

*** I haven’t been online much, unless I’ve been working on things. I haven’t been in the mood or in the correct space to share my thoughts and feelings. The past 4 months have been a challenge and continue to wear me down. However, I have decided to weed my garden of negativity and poison, and plant beauty, kindness, and love in their place.

Grief sucks. Grief brings out the best and the worst in us. I choose to turn my grief into positive memories. It will take a while, but I’m determined to remember to be kind and not let other’s actions and words ruin my happy memories.

Miss you Mom and Dad.

For Mom – the little yellow notebook queen

In the hush of dawn, where the robins sing,

I hear her hum—a quiet, joyful thing.

A thread of song spun from kitchen light,

She made the world feel soft, and right.

She walked with wonder through the trees,

Studied deer tracks, whispered to the breeze.

A cardinal perched, she’d smile and say,

“Nature’s blessing us again today.”

She loved her Richard, hand in hand,

Built a life both strong and grand.

Her children grown, with love she’d sew

New stitches into hearts she’d know.

Grandkids, great-grandkids—each one dear,

She held them close, kept memories near.

And in her bag, so oft unseen,

That little yellow notebook queen

Would jot a thought, a joke, a list—

The smallest details never missed.

She knitted warmth, she stitched delight,

With tiny chairs tucked in just right.

A dollhouse world within her care,

Where love was nestled everywhere.

And oh, the songs! The kitchen tunes—

About lost keys and spoons and moons.

I laugh, remembering the silly flair—

A melody made from thinning hair.

Camping nights with stars above,

We farted loud, then laughed with love.

A bond unique, just hers and mine,

Our secret joy, our shared sunshine.

I miss her voice, her gentle hands,

The way she’d always understand.

But in the birdcall, breeze, and sky,

She’s with me still—and nearby.

So here’s to her, forever seen—

My heart’s own yellow notebook queen.

–Today is my Mom’s birthday. I miss her!