Humbled

October 20, 2019. This was the last time I took time to write and I’ve missed having the time ever since. Ten days later, on October 30, my beloved husband suffered a catastrophic stroke and he’s  been hospitalized since. As I sit and compose this entry, I am saddened by the turn of events in our lives, but ever grateful that the man I have loved all my life is alive. He’s very different, but he’s alive.

My husband left our home on October 5th to drive to New England to visit one of his brothers that had been in the hospital and I stayed behind in South Carolina. I was working and encouraged him to go without me. His mom is still alive, though elderly, and I thought he may see her as well. He had no restrictions as to returning to SC, so being in New England was all about what he needed, and wanted, to do. The last day I blogged was the same day he called me to tell me he had an excruciating headache for no apparent reason. I begged him to go to an emergency room, and I mean no offense by this, but being that he’s a man, he just blew it off. And again the next day, and the next… you get the picture. He left New England around noon on the 28th of October, drove 1000 miles south, and made it home on the 29th around 10am after getting lost in NYC. That’s a post for another time…

As I read back over what I had started 10 days ago, I know that there is a story to tell. I have since closed up our home in South Carolina, moved to Richmond,Virginia and started over. Again. Seems these past two years have been all about starting over. I’m currently sitting on an Amtrak train heading to Washington, DC to spend time with family, and my beloved husband is back in Richmond at the Polytrauma Center of the Ricmond VA Hospital. He will know I am gone, but he won’t be able to discern for how long. I miss him and I desperately miss the man he was. I feel cheated in many ways, robbed of a future that included us being grandparents together in the most simple of ways. We had planned to be the type of grandparents that took our babies to a zoo, to the beach, to the movies. Now I am a MiMi on my own in all the ways that matter. Two of our four grandchildren are very young, they won’t remember their Poppy later on down the road as he was, just as he is now. He’s unable to walk, his personality is altered and he has no filter when it comes to speaking. He can turn mean in the blink of an eye, rage without cause and is prone to aggression. So much has changed…

I have been told over and over and over again to take care of myself, and I try, but I am consumed by guilt, grief and anger. Guilt because I have the ability to keep living a joy filled life, and I feel terrible for leaving him in a hospital bed. Grief, because the man I love is not the same, and anger… Anger over many things. Why didn’t he go to the doctor when the headaches started? Why didn’t he quit smoking? Why was he so freaking stubborn? Why? Why? Why? So many unanswered questions. I am learning to move forward, though the steps I take can’t even be considered baby. I cry, a lot. I pray constantly and I write. Finally, I write again. Though my original intent was to make this blog positive in nature after surviving the loss of our daughter, I don’t feel very positive right now. I know it’s important to look for the silver lining, I am… I just haven’t found it yet.

I hope those of you reading this will know that I appreciate you and taking the time to read. I am hoping to write regularly again as I am settling in to my new life, the writing and sharing is such a release for me. I hope to not only inspire others, but to encourage others through the pains and trials of life, and share the joys and triumphs along my way.

In closing, please accept my most sincere wishes for a happy and safe start to 2020! May you and yours be blessed and all your dreams come true…

Hunter Holmes McGuire VAMC Richmond, VA

When is a long time too long a time?



Hey everyone,

It’s been a really long time since I’ve written, I’ve been working 6 days a week for the last few weeks and when I get home, I’ve been doing the dinner dance. You know that dance, right? The one where you get home at 7pm, try and figure out what to cook, if you’re going to cook and then hanging out with my husband until I crawl into bed just to get up and do it all over again. I need to plan our meals, and am fully aware of the benefits of such behavior, so I really have no excuse as to why I don’t. It’s been too long since I have done a lot of things and the time spent worrying about what I haven’t done is gone, so I look forward and resolve to try harder.

I’ve had a couple of setbacks in dealing with the loss of our daughter since I last wrote, one of those setbacks came yesterday morning when I heard the song she danced with her Daddy to at her last wedding. In the very beginning of the estrangement I couldn’t listen to it at all without falling apart, but as time when on and we accepted the permanence of the loss, I got to a place where it became just another song again. Yesterday it just made me melancholy that in just 3 years time, our daughter would think so little of us that she would throw us away. My heart hurt for my beloved husband yesterday, and though it hurts for him everyday in the face of such loss, yesterday the loss was just at the surface. I’m not okay with myself when I get like I was yesterday because it makes me feel like our daughter has too much control over the lives of her parents. She doesn’t deserve to be given any credit for anything but trying to destroy the very people that created her out of love, she didn’t try to control herself, so we work hard at not giving away any control over our lives to the grief and anguish she has caused so many people, not just her parents.

It’s been too long since I’ve let my heart just hurt and on Monday of this past week, I had a meltdown at work. Thankfully I have a fantastic boss who understands that when a person you loved so much decides to check out of being a part of your life, you lose yourself in the grief sometimes. You also lose yourself in the anger, the rage and the utter disbelief of it all. I struggle with the woman I become when I fall, and again, it all seems to stem from trying to NOT give away any of myself to the loss over which I had no control. I still find it incredibly hard to understand how one person in a world with 7 billion people can affect so many lives in such a negative way. One person? Our daughter hurt so many when she left us, and she hurt herself, though were she still a part of our lives she would never admit it. She would point the finger of blame at me, at my husband, at her sister. Her poisonous tongue would say things that are as ludacris as they sounded when they came out of her mouth. I’ve learned through the grief that I have the power to hurt or heal with my words, and while I don’t always say or do the the right thing, I firmly believe in taking the high road now more than ever. I am a good person, and I almost lost my goodness because of the actions of another. I lost so much, so now I fight to hold onto the goodness I have left.

It’s been too long since I have focused on the healing that writing this blog, and my book, brings me. I have been denying myself the time to sit and focus on myself, and without self love, life starts to become more and more of a struggle. Yes, I struggle with the loss and the volume of the noise that my own head can produce when I think about the why of it all. Why did she make false claims about us? Why didn’t she ever try to talk to us about the things she believed to be true? Why did she think she was less than? Why did she? Why did she…? Enough already!!! I am not controlled by her thoughts, but by my own, and I have to slam the door on the negativity that creeps in like a thief in the night. Just like setting the alarm on the house, I need to set the one in my brain to alert me to the invasion of negativity that comes out of nowhere. I have to allow myself the grace to accept that I am powerless over this loss. I am powerless to change the mind of anyone else. I am powerless in many ways when it comes to this loss. I am not powerless when it comes to changing the direction of my thoughts. I am not powerless in my desire to move forward and seek joy. I am not powerless in my ability to love through the pain. As pat as it sounds, time really is the only thing that helps in dealing with losing someone you loved so much. Time. It speeds by and it crawls. It gives us hope and takes it away. It never stops marching on, so sometimes you have to let it go and rest. Time spent wallowing in grief is not time wasted, it’s time soent healing, even if you can’t see or feel it.

It’s been too long since I’ve said to myself that I am confident, that I matter and that I am worthy of good things. I have a good life, it’s just different than the life I thought I would be a part of before losing our child. Loss changes you and when you finally reach the place where you no longer recognize yourself, it’s time to reevaluate and possibly head in a different direction. I’ve always had a more positive outlook on life, I’ve always believed that kindness matters and I’ve always believed in the power of selflessness. I lost a lot of these things as time went on after losing our daughter, and there are times I don’t like who I am becoming. I have fought back against being bitter, only to lose. I’ve fought back against the rage, only to have the rage consume me at times. I am now much more aware of how words can kill the strongest of spirits, and my spirit is not okay with this. I am better in many ways than I have ever been, but I find I am different. I’ve lost the desire to trust, to reconnect, to love with abandon. I’m working on these things every day, and while my circle of friends is smaller than ever, the circle that remains is stronger than any grief or evil deed. If I were to perish tomorrow, I would be leaving behind a life that needs more time to become whole again. And I will be whole again, I am more determined than ever to keep seeking good. Keep seeking joy. Keep seeking kindness.

In closing it is my hope that if you are hurting over something in your own life, you know that you are not alone. We need each other to lean on in a world that seems to promote discontent these days. Find a support group, go for a walk on the beach, hike in the woods, pray and/or do what brings you peace. If that peace only lasts a few minutes, embrace it. The struggle never ends, but the periods of peace become longer and longer until the day WILL arrive where you find a smile that lasted all day in your heart. Losing a loved one is not easy, it shatters even the strongest of hearts, but we can put the pieces back together as much as possible and learn to appreciate the jagged edges left behind in a new way. Be well, dear ones, I won’t wait so long to write again.

We Are Not Expired Concert Tickets…

Hi,

Have you ever thought about what you miss when you have concert tickets that you misplace and they’ve expired before you find them? That feeling of disappointment? That feeling of utter disbelief? You think to yourself “how could I have lost these?” I had seats front and center to see my favorite artist and I blew it! This is the train of thought I have been riding on today, and I have to get this out of me. I used to love to go to concerts with my oldest daughter and we saw some fabulous shows over 20 or so years before her dad and I became the expired concert tickets that she threw away. I’ve kept ticket stubs and programs and pictures of a life that no longer exists and the memories of good times with her are held on to by choice. I try very hard to let go of the anger and disbelief of the loss we’ve experienced since being ripped up and tossed to the wind without care; I fail. There are still days when I think of a Kid Rock concert, seeing Garth Brooks, Papa Roach or whomever, and I scream my pain out in the car…

Life is not a concert, or a play, or a production for anyone to make light of, nor is it an invitation to sit in the front row and clap your hands when something happens to someone that causes pain. I am not a performer, nor is my husband. We are two people that created two lives together out of love and we are broken. Better to be broken together than to be acting for the sake of acting. We have been broken, crushed and rebuilt. Through strength, determination and sheer will we have picked up as many shredded pieces of torn concert tickets and taped them back together as best we can to try and live. What our oldest child stole from us 15 months ago was never real in the first place, but we didn’t know it until now. Our daughter never loved us, and we know that to be true now. Why did it take us losing her to realize that we never mattered to her? I can’t answer that except to say that we loved her so much that we denied seeing what was right in front of us. We. Loved. Her.

Going to a concert is not like real life, but it is a place where you can lose yourself for a little bit of time and pretend that your life is better in a darkened arena than it ever is, or could be, at home. I think back to all the times I would get tickets for us and maybe whatever guy she was dating to go escape real life for a few hours. How I fooled myself into thinking she wanted to be with me, she just wanted to use me. The last Kid Rock concert we attended together was a disaster for me, and I will never forget the feelings of angst I experienced the day after when I left her behind and drove the 225 miles back home without her because she refused to get out of bed. I knew then that the “bonding” I thought we shared was bullshit, it wasn’t bonding at all. She actually bought those tickets and we had so much fun at the show. I hold on to that now, and leave the dark memories behind me. I don’t listen to KR any more, I prefer a different drummer so to speak.

I still love going to concerts, though I have less desire to attend a rock concert or a LOUD concert. I also choose to attend with a more appreciative partner. Not like I have much of a choice on that though. When you accept that you are nothing more than fluff, dirt or invisible to someone, I believe we have a tendency to do one of two things. We either become fluff, dirt or invisible, or we become someone who stands up and digs down deep to recover their self-worth. I have spent the better part of the past 15 months trying to dig down deep to be able to stand on my own again and be as whole as possible. I will never be whole as a mother again, how can I be when 50% of my heart stopped beating last year? I can, however, stand up and let the other 50% of my heart keep beating to a different kind of music. My younger daughter brings music and joy all her own to my life and I am ever grateful. Through all the loss, all the tears, all the self-recrimination, here stands a woman that holds new and up to date concert tickets for events yet to come. I don’t tell her near enough how much she means to me, but I think she knows. She too has suffered so much in losing her sister, and I am proud of how determined she is to make a happy, safe and fun life for her own children.

I feel like the music of life can at times be like a crazy Grateful Dead concert. Or quiet and stately like seeing Jim Brickman. When you see Jim Brickman, you leave his concerts feeling blessed, relaxed and appreciative of what music can do for your spirit. When we first lost our daughter, I could barely stand to hear Elton John’s “This Is Your Song.” My husband danced with our daughter to this song at her 3rd wedding and it was beautiful to watch him hold our creation in his arms. Now I can seek the song out and not cry. I can listen to The Zac Brown Band’s song “Colder Weather” and not ball my eyes out. I can seek the memory of a New Year’s Eve concert with ZBB in Atlanta a few years ago and let the joy of that night (what a friggin’ long drive home!) sustain me through my dark moments…

I miss the blonde-headed, blue-eyed girl that we so wanted to have with all of my heart. I am saddened by the tremendous sense of loss and injustice I feel. I am at times beyond frustrated that my beloved husband stares off into nothingness with the sheen of unshed tears in his eyes. I feel anger rise like bile when I think how easy it had to have been for her to just throw us away like those expired concert tickets she found in a drawer somewhere. I am forever and irrevocably changed by what has happened to us, but not so much that I want to hide anymore. I want to tell my story and let other parents know that they too can survive the loss of their own flesh and blood, they just have to walk through the pain. The anger. The disbelief. The confusion. It may seem like just noise in the first few months following the loss, but I promise you will hear a beautiful melody, a simple harmony, a verse that opens the door to a heart that is different, but healing. I have learned much about myself over these past months, and the lesson most valued to me? I matter. To myself, to my husband, our daughter, our grandchildren, my friends. The list goes on.

Does the music sound the same after such loss as we have experienced? No. Think about the significance music has played in your life… What does your soundtrack sound like? Mine is full of variation. From the Bee Gees in my youth to Jim Brickman in my later life, and all that’s in between, I keep turning up the volume and listening to the words. I seek comfort through music and when I hit rock bottom in my grief, I listen for the positive messages I can find by listening to Casting Crowns, Michael W. Smith, Amy Grant, and many others. Our youngest daughter has introduced me to Andy Grammar, I love him! What about Bruno Mars, Charlie Puth, Lady Gaga? Find your inspiration to heal through any means you can, and let the music lift you up. I have tickets that will get us in to see Jim Brickman in December, and I am looking forward to enjoying myself. My husband will be seeing him for the first time, and I am excited to share my love of JB music with him in a live setting… 

I know this has been a lengthy post, I’m in a writing mood tonight and I want to share hope with those of you that need to know it does exist. When an adult child decides that we aren’t good enough for them anymore, that is on them, not on us as parents. We lost our only daughter completely last year, and we can accept that now. We have found peace even though we don’t understand. We seek joy even when it seems impossible to find. We listen to the music of our lives and pray for others experiencing senseless loss. I pray that you all know that you are not alone, not ever, and there is someone somewhere that believes in you. You deserve to heal, you deserve to be happy, and you deserve a life filled with concerts that make you want to dance with abandon and freedom!!!

macro photo of piano keys
Photo by Fernando Arcos on Pexels.com

A love letter to 1983…

Hey All,

Here’s my broken heart letting go of what’s been in it for quite some time now…

Dear newborn daughter; How your dad and I waited and prayed for this day to come!!! You were due 22 days ago, but as we would come to learn, you would do things your way. After being induced into labor, you made your debut 12 hours and 1 minute later! Pink, round and robust you made your entrance into our lives with the lungs of a singer! What a beautiful, perfect baby girl you were! And we loved you… So much…

We were young, you helped us mature. We were inexperienced, you helped us learn. We were scared, you gave us courage. We were in love, you deepened that love. We were happy, you made us ecstatic. The smiles you freely gave, the hands that would reach for us, the eyes that would watch us as we moved around you, all of these things we treasured because we made you. And we loved you… so much…

As you grew, we grew. We watched you learn to scoot, crawl, walk and run. We encouraged you to be brave, and you were. We held your hands and swung you between us. We snuggled you, tickled you, hugged you and kissed you. We loved you… so much…

We thought you might never talk, but when you finally did, you had so much to say! You loved books, just like me. You loved birds, just like Daddy. You had a very curious nature and loved the water. You weren’t afraid to try new things, neither was I. You were loving, funny and sweet. We loved you… so much…

I remember holding your hand when you waited for the school bus that first day of kindergarten in 1988. You were two and a half months shy of five years old, and so confident. I cried my eyes out when that bus drove away with you, but was so happy to see your smiling face when you came home! You loved going to school and learning, and I loved that you were becoming a strong, independent little girl. By now you were a big sister to a newborn baby girl and you were the best big sister. Ever. We loved you… so much…

The years flew by and we all grew as a family, together. Your Daddy loved having little girls, so did I. We loved how you would hug your baby sister when she would cry. You loved to help make sure she was safe and cried with her when she was sick, which was often. Your heart was tender towards her and you would sing her silly songs to distract her from her pain. She loved you, so much. So did we…

You began to leave us by 1997, your teenage years were tumultuous for all of us, especially you. You were so self-demanding, so self-critical. You stopped shining and we tried to help you, but we failed. We were just parents, and you didn’t want us to be involved in your life. We’re sorry we kept trying to be parents, not friends, but parents aren’t supposed to be friends. We tried to set an example for you, but we failed. Daddy was gone, a lot, and we couldn’t seem to make you understand that his job was the Navy, and the Navy was life. I know we failed at times, probably many, many times in your eyes, but we still loved you… so much…

You turned 18 in 2001, several months after you graduated from high school. By now we knew we would lose you someday, we held on as long as we were able. You left home in Feb. of 2002 and we had to let you go. We didn’t want to, but you were of age. We watched you slip further and further away, but we still loved you… so much…

Adulthood came like a thief in the night and turned your heart away from us. We missed you… so much… Life took us in a different direction after the Navy, and we did what we thought we should do, but it wasn’t enough. You left us again… we loved you… and missed you… so much…

In 2006 you gave us our first grandchild and we love him… so much. We loved helping you and our hearts broke for you both when his bio dad left you. We hated him for that… but now we are just sad. We opened our home to you and the boy when you had no place else to go. We loved you… so much…

We were blessed to be a part of your life for almost 35 years. And blessed to have the love of our grandson for 11.5 years before you forbid us from having any contact. We still love him… so much…

We want you to know, wherever you are, that we loved you… so much… We are always going to be your parents and no matter how hard you have tried to erase us, we still love you… so much…

Our deepest desire for you now and in the future is peace… we pray you have found peace of mind, and know that we love you… still…

Stop Using the Children…

Hi all,

Ya know what really bugs me? What bugs me is the fact that grown adults use their children as weapons against those whom they have decided are not worthy. Denying children loving grandparents is cruel and scientifically proven to be a form of child abuse. And to think that those very same parents think they’re protecting their kids? What a laugh. These childish parents are doing more harm than good and will never admit it to themselves. Or to their children.

What long term purpose does alienating your child’s grandparents serve? Not only does it hurt your child, but it hurts the one doing the alienating as well. Even though most alienator’s would never admit it, they hurt because of their own actions. I know this because I never had the relationship with my own mom that my children had with me, but I never completely walked away. I regret not being more comapssionate towards my mom, but I am grateful for what she taught me. I look back now and see so much pain, and would love to have the chance to say I am sorry to her. And I would. I know my child would have never put her pride aside to even try to begin mending things, and now it’s too late.

How do you think the children that are being denied the unconditional love of their grandparents will grow up? Think long and hard… Will they be trusting of others? Probably not. Will they value the way they were left out of the grandparent’s lives? Probably not. What happens to them if one of their alienated grandparents dies suddenly and they miss out on ever reconnecting with the love they missed out on because their own parent decided that his/her grandparents weren’t good enough? I imagine that if this were to happen in my own family, our beloved, alienated granchildren would be told that they were better off without us. So sad. So very, very sad. All we ever wanted to do was love our family, all of it. Now we are imprisoned by the control issues of someone that didn’t care.

If the tone of this post sounds angry, it is. I am not angry very often anymore, but I find the closer my beloved grandson’s birthday gets (he’ll be 13) the more the feelings of anger and bitterness try to take up residence in my broken heart. I frankly have no room for them anymore, and writing helps release them. Life is too short to let such negativity get a hold of my heart and I am strong enough to defeat it. I love my grandchildren with all that I am and no matter what has happened, no one can take that from me. Not ever.

So, I hope someday the adult children that think it’s okay to rip out the hearts of their own kids, and their parents stop using love as weapon. Love is to be nurtured. Sure, we ALL make mistakes, and we all need love, but we don’t need for people to be so cruel and unforgiving…

As the Journey Continues…

Hi Everyone,

I realized today that I am seeking certain things because of the journey I’m on and I’d like to share those things you.

Yes, it’s true that I’m a survivor of a great deal of pain and loss, as all of us are but I want to be so much more than that. I want to thrive!!! Thriving is achievable in spite of whatever you’ve been through, are going through or will go through. How you get there is part of the journey your life takes you on and my journey is picking up its pace. I’m embracing the pain I have to face to get to the thriving I crave, and I’m learning to ask for help when I need it.

Asking for help is not an indication of weakness on my part, I see it as strength. I’ve worked really hard at letting go of my pride, and that was one of the first things that tried to rear its ugly head when our daughter left us. How dare she make a decision that altered the course of not only my life, but the lives of many? How? Pride and indignation were my companions in the beginning but I dropped them off at the side of the road when I stopped asking why. I’ll never know why she did what she did, and I’m okay with that. I know what she said and the lies she made up, but I also know she had no proof of anything she accused us of. Nor is there any. I prayed for her to find peace, and I still pray, but now I pray for peace for myself and my husband. When someone makes the decision to erase you, they are actually erasing themselves. We are still standing and facing the fact that our daughter is gone, what else can we do?

To thrive takes a positive attitude, and no matter how bad things are, or get, you can dig down deep into the core of your spirit and find somethinng to be thankful for. I am thankful for my husband, for our younger daughter, for our 4 grandchildren. I am thankful for the rain that has finally come to the deep south and I am very thankful for every morning that I wake. The weight of loss is lessening as time goes on, and I find that to be very positive.

Thriving also involves work. Hard work at that. I have to work at banishing thoughts of what our daughter did. I work hard at recognizing that the constant worry about her has lessened because she decided to take herself away from us. I work hard at thinking through things now instead of instantaneously reacting. I couldn’t control what she did to us then, I can control how I react now. Learning to rein yourself in and think first is a huge step in healing. And in thriving.

Thriving is so much more than working, it’s learning, it’s accepting and it’s letting go. It’s being able to accept that you are powerless over just about damn near everything in your life and that what you do has great affect on others. Thriving is accepting what is, though to me it doesn’t mean you don’t question what is from time to time. Believe in yourself, love carefully and embrace the future with the confidence you possessed in your youth. Don’t let the people who have hurt you determine your course, they’re most likely to crash and burn…

What’s in a dream?

Hey all,

I guess these past two weeks have been dominated by my dreams, but at least last night’s dreams were much more welcome. I dreamed of my Daddy who died in April of 2000. He was vibrant, healthy and happy in the landscapes of this dream. I love dreaming of those I’ve lost as long as the dreams are happy. After the dreams of last week, this one was great. The downside to dreaming about him is that I have to wake up, and it’s usually many, many months before I dream of him again. I miss him so much, but am grateful he’s gone and not witness to the demise of my family. He would’ve hated seeing all of us, including his oldest granddaughter in so much pain. He loved her so much.

I wonder if our daughter ever dreams of us and if she ever misses us. My guess is no, but I’ll never know. She has made it clear that she wishes us gone, and we have no desire to try and reconnect. It sounds harsh, but when someone you’ve loved so much spreads lies and spews hatred towards you, you have to come to the realization that no matter what you try to do or say, your words and actions become fuel for their fires of discontent and you just have to stop trying. I know that estranged parents and alienated grandparents never go a single hour of life without thought of those they’ve been cut off from. It’s like the soundtrack from your favorite movie that you can’t get out of your head. You repeat it over and over and over, never growing tired of the music. I am tired of the endless ache of missing my grandson and granddaughter. I am tired of seeing how much my husband hurts but says he doesn’t. I am tired of feeling so many emotions in the course of every day. I need rest… I crave rest… I fear rest will never come, though.

I have been feeling angry about the estrangement these past few days and especially yesterday. Something happened in the family that the oldest should’ve been included in, and because she has decided we all don’t matter, it appears events don’t matter either. All I could think was that she should be here with us and she’s not. As time goes on I understand that longing never dies, but it does ease. I wish that easing were here already, I really abhor becoming angry. The anger only affects me, and when that happens I just get angrier and angrier. I’m better today, just a bit melancholy. The melancholy is always present, it ties directly to this MiMi’s heart missing her grands, not the daughter. I’ve come to accept the loss, what else can I do?

How do you mend such brokenness and find the hidden beauty in the pieces that remain of your broken heart? It’s not easy, and the fight to remain positive is exhausting. I believe that staying busy helps to keep the bulk of the feelings at bay, but when the waves of emotion crash unexpectedly, give yourself some grace. When you lay your head down to sleep, try thinking of that which brings joy. I know it sounds simple, but it’s far from simple. As wounded as we are from the estrangement, we find thinking positively, especially in the quiet hours of our lives is almost impossible. I wish with all my heart I could erase the pain of those I love and rebuild our lives, but I can’t. I can offer to hold a hand, give a hug and try to encourage. It’s all I have. I pray for dreams that I don’t remember, I just don’t want to wake up hurting any more than I already do. I don’t want that for anyone.

I’ll end for now as I’m beat from working in the 100+ degree heat that has gripped the southeast this week. May your dreams be sweet and filled with love…

Under an old railroad bridge
Brevard, NC
Photo by Barb Enos