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Wednesday, January 29, 2014


I am a believer.  I like to believe in things.  I like to believe that there is something greater than us - it brings me comfort and always has throughout my life, in good times and bad.  I believe that things happen for a reason - not to say that I can see any reason for Eddie's dieing - but I generally believe that if one just listens to life's whispers, they generally tell you what to do and where to go and why things might not be happening the way you want. Thank God for unanswered prayers as the say.

I have never been sure however that I was a believer in hearing from those that have died.  It seems unreal.  A body dies.  That is it.  Yes, there is this soul but what is that exactly.  When I sit very quietly I hear and feel something deep within myself that I know is something greater than my body.  My brother and I used to challenge each other to sit and really ponder what are we exactly?  What is this body and this feeling within.  Perhaps through Eddie's death I am starting to learn a bit.  I feel him, I see clear signs he is around.  Here are the latest incidences.

I was at a religious school advisory board meeting last week.  Religious education was something very important to Eddie.  He volunteered at the religious school for several years (how he ended up as an art teacher helper is another question but he loved it each and every week).  Most everyone that knows us knows that our temple was a safe place.  It was a special place.  It was a home for us and we reconnected there over and over.  As always, I had my phone in sleep mode, nearby for those moments when the meeting goes astray.   One of these times, I reached to my phone, gently pressed the menu button and swiped it on.  We all have done this countless times and the screen pops up to the last place we were - the text screen, a text exchange, an email exchange, a webpage, etc.  At this particular moment, here is what popped up on my screen:

There was simply no explanation other than some divine soul intervention.  It was not as if my phone accidentally went to a former text exchange with eddie- this one is blank.  It is not an old email.  It is a brand new text started with Eddie's name in the "to" space.   He was there.

A few nights later as I lay sound asleep, I woke very startled and very alert. I truly with all my being felt his presence.  I woke myself up more and I talked to him, sure to capture the moment.  I said "ok, I know you are here.  I feel you" and with that I felt a very firm tap just behind my right shoulder and I acknowledged it.  I slapped myself silly in that moment making absolutely sure I was awake and realized it was real.  It was.

Recently, we were at a friends house who I had not been to since Eddie died and this family was one we spent a lot of time together as families.  The husband and I were standing very close to the door as I was getting ready to leave having dropped my daughter off there.  The doorbell rang.  We both walked to the door and he opened it.  There was nobody there.  No menu left behind, no solicitation, no person heading down his porch stairs, no kids pranking.  It was Eddie, just letting us know he was there.

Lastly, as my son packed his brand new baseball backpack with all of his baseball accessories, he and the babysitter heard a knock on the door.  Eddie loved baseball - it was his favorite sport.  My son and the babysitter went to the door and opened it only to find absolutely nobody there.  They both heard the knock clearly.  My son told me "mom, it was dad. He loved baseball you know."

He is here.  It gives me the best comfort knowing that he is with me in some way some how.  I hope he is happy with all that we are doing in his memory and to honor him each day.  I hope he knows how much peace his little injections into life bring to me.

Hugs to all,

Wednesday, January 22, 2014


I am really appreciating the grief group I attend at a place called Our House.  It is such a nice group of people and we manage to laugh and talk and cry together quite easily.  The bond from this loss will inevitably last forever and we will each give and take that which we can and need.

At the end of each group meeting, we receive a reading that we read out loud.  I really appreciate these readings.  Here is the latest that really has stuck with me:

Some People
Some people come into our lives and quickly go
Some people move our souls to dance.
They awaken us to new understanding with the passing whisper of their wisdom.
Some people make the sky more beautiful to gaze upon.
They stay in our lives for a while, leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never ever the same.

Author Unknown

My soul definitely danced from the moment I met Eddie.  I am not sure it will ever dance that way again but it is forever warmed by his having been with it for those 11 years.  He imparted so much wisdom on me that sticks with me to this day.  I try so hard to listen at those moments that I would have sought it still.

Hugs to all,

Friday, January 3, 2014


I suppose I always took for granted, particularly these last 10 years, the relevance of family to the holidays.  "Going to be with my family" just always was what I did, what others did.  It was sacred carved out time.  But when a key element of your family is no longer there, how does "going to be with my family" make sense?  How can I be?  He isn't here. … a key component.  He can't be made up for, his absence can't be ignored and that hole of him not being there certainly cannot be filled.  I have learned a few things that can be done around it that certainly can help ease the pain of that absence.  I share these things only with the hope or intention that I awaken someone else so they are able to help the next one that follows in my path.  Perhaps some day my children read this and get what it means to really comfort someone who is grieving.

Everyone certainly moves on with their own lives.  I don't know if I entirely agree with most people who say that to me in the sense they mean it (as if trying to explain why people don't call or check in).  People certainly continue to move forward and carry on as they should and are entitled to do.  But most people stop when they see me and offer a hug or a smile or ask how we are all doing. So many reach out and email or call to ask directly, those in town and out of town.  Most people want to acknowledge the grief.  They know.  Life isn't back to normal for us.

A wise man recently told me that some might want to just see me get back into the wheel of life that I was in before, that not being in that wheel makes them feel uncomfortable with themselves or around me.  But my life isn't going back to that normal and as far as my being a cog in that wheel, I am now a bent cog and I won't be able to go back into that wheel.  I now must find a different wheel to fit into to carry me on my journey.  I am absolutely committed to that once I am through mourning the wheel I am no longer a part of.

I think its important for people to understand this analogy - its not being healed or getting fixed or the right therapist or the right grief group.  Its about time and going through the process of grief.  This process is so different for everyone but so necessary for all.

I also have realized the power of "how are you"once you are not so fine.  Three simple words.  They show care and concern.  They show "I know your life isn't the same."  But I also think perhaps these three words need to be turned inside out at times. Perhaps consider "I am thinking of you.  I know it must really be tough during the holidays (or summer or whatever time it is) and I am thinking of you today".  It takes the onus off the person grieving so that they don't feel compelled to pretend they feel something they don't such as "I'm fine" or feel that they must get into a deep explanation of how or why they don't feel fine.  It is expressing that the person has taken the time to imagine without my having to explain what it is like.

Lastly, talking about the person who is no longer with us means the world.  It keeps his/her spirit alive within us.  It helps give us a safe place to talk about him/her and it means that you too want to remember and keep that spirit a part of us.

Again, I come back to the wisest words I have ever heard about showing up for others - it changes nothing but means everything.

I survived the first holidays.  They were rough, they were hard and I missed Eddie.  I am grateful I had all of you asking if you could be with us.

Hugs to all,