Wellness Wednesday, June 24, 2020

Today I’m taking care of my soul. It’s the 25th anniversary of the death of my son James, and I’m missing him.

Life has continued, and through my faith in God, I’ve even found joy once again. But in the quiet hours of the night, I still wonder what life would have been had he lived. Would he be bald? He was already losing his hair. How would he be employed? He was expert in advertisement, but fell in love with restaurant work. Whatever he chose, he would have succeeded, because that’s who he was. Always optimisic, always faithful.

So today I’m eating simply, walking a bit, reading Anne of Green Gables (it was his favorite book) and writing.

Another year, but when we have that great reunion, I’ll look back and see it was as the blink of an eye, for eternity will surround us, and every tear will be dried.

I love you forever, James.

How are you caring for your soul?

A Pocketful of Joy to Fill Your Day

Memories Monday, June 24, 2019

Today is the 24th anniversary of my son’s death. He would have been 45 years old had he lived. I’m beginning to think that I might have been chosen to pass through this trial in order to help others understand that there is hope. Horrible things happen, and we not only survive, but we can be happy again, despite the tragedy.

I will always treasure my 21 years with you, James. From your first cry to your last “I love you.” You loved life, and you loved God. And you lived your faith. I couldn’t be more proud of what you became.

Rest in peace, my son. Until we meet again…

What memories are you mulling over this Monday?

A Pocketful of Joy to Fill Your Day

Memories Monday, June 10, 2019

Junior was killed 28 years ago yesterday. He was 14 years old. 28 years ago last Wednesday was the last time in this life I heard his voice.

But I can say that I know I will be with him again. Because of Jesus Christ, we will have a joyful reunion. This is all temporary. Because of this, I can be happy. I have a good life, a wonderful husband, and hope fills my heart.

I have treasured memories of my boys. But it doesn’t end here. We will share eternity some day. And knowing that brings me joy.

What are your Monday Memories?

A Pocketful of Joy to Fill Your Day

Missing You; A Pocketful of Memories

Today is the 45th anniversary of the death of my mother. There is so much weight in that sentence. I feel it heavily on my shoulders, constricting my chest. How I wish I could find the words to ease this pressure, to allow its escape from my heart!
But then I remember the years in which such love was ingrained within my soul by the very cause of my grief, and I ask myself, “Would I have it any other way?”
Of course, the answer is no. I wouldn’t trade you for all the grief and pain in the world! Not for all the riches in the universe.
For you ARE my riches! You ARE my foundation. You are my best friend. You taught me enough about life to survive, and then you trusted me to do the job.
It’s been so long. I’ve grown up. I’ve grown old. I’ve missed you so much! I wish you could have been along for the ride.
But then again, maybe you have been.

Who have you been missing today?

A Pocketful of Memories to Fill Your Day

A Pocketful of Memories

Anniversaries are a pretty big deal. And there are hallmark anniversaries, such as a 20 year mark, and we celebrate them with great joy.
But then there are days like today. This is the 20th anniversary of the death of my older son, James. And all I have are memories, and the loss of what could have been.
Grief is a peculiar thing. It hits you when you least expect it. And it’s interesting the reaction I get when I mention my pain. After all, it has been a long time. And people think I should be over it.
But how does one get over the loss of a child? You might as well have cut out my heart. In fact, that’s exactly what happened. And I am still picking up the pieces.
I do have my memories, however. And no one can take them away from me.
So, indulge me while I reminisce.
James was all about boyscouts and basketball. And music and track and debate. He played the french horn and would run anywhere from 10 to 20 miles per day when he was a long-distance runner for his high school track team. He was also on the debate team. I still have his trophies, and his french horn mouthpiece. When I touch it to my lips, it’s almost like a kiss, for his lips touched it, too.

This photo was taken four and a half years before he died. He didn’t change much, except he was losing his hair. Poor kid.
He was only 21 when he died. I sometimes wonder what he might have become. He wanted to be an airline pilot. He loved the skies.
But now he flies higher than any plane could have taken him. He’s my angel. I’ve almost gotten used to it. Almost.
But I still miss you, James! And I will always love you.

What memories are you making with the ones you love today?

A Pocketful of Joy to Fill Your Day