Tag: Journaling through grief

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A Reflection & Public Service Announcement:

Today is the 3 year-anniversary of our Stage 4 Diagnosis Day, and I feel compelled to share a little something-something today, now that we are 3 years out from that dreadful day. This is the day that my life most profoundly changed, followed closely by the day I became a 1st time mother, but that day was wrapped in joy, whereas diagnosis day was shrouded in fear, grief, & unbelievable pain, but I tend to write more about sad things than happy things. (Don’t I sound like some fun person you would want to hang out with at parties?? LOL! Disclaimer, I think I am more fun in real life than I am in my writing, but obviously I am not a reliable source on the matter. )

I was talking to a dear friend yesterday about how much my life has changed over the last 3 years, & how she has been a confidant & friend throughout that whole period (shoutout to my small group leader, you know who you are. 😉)  And while I always wish I could see the future & see where this or that will lead, I’m thankful for 1,000 past days that I didn’t know the various looming heartaches that awaited me, because I’m not sure I would have stayed on those different courses, but honestly I would have missed so much if I had taken any one of the detours offered to me. For its only in hindsight that you, or at least that I have, come to realize that the pain & agony of life is where & when you often learn the most profound life lessons, reprioritize the way you spend your time, and reconsider who you choose to spend your time with, all while drawing closer to God along the way.

I have said before, and I will say again, while our family’s Cancer journey, (because truly, one person’s cancer diagnosis is a diagnosis for all of those around them too) was wretched and heartbreaking, it was also, I see now, a necessary evil we all had to go through, like a refinement process turning us all into the people He has planned for us to be. Our girls have grown and matured and faced things that you would wish on no one, but as a result, I believe they too have learned so much and grown in their character and developed immeasurable in their grit along the way, that I stand in awe of them at moments. But at the same time, while we 3 may have emerged stronger 3-years later, I see us like a broken bone that heals, but still aches when it rains, and had we known, really known for sure, not just some hokey prediction what we would face if we did this or that, or didn’t do this or that, I know we would have all done whatever it took to avoid it, but then where would be now? Who can say?

Now, don’t read that and think that I am all Zen, and only spend my time on worthwhile things today, because I don’t.  I confess, I just binged The Perfect Couple on Netflix this past weekend, and I am just as guilty, if not more so than, the next person of mindlessly scrolling and watching ridiculous Reels about love, life, and black labradors, but I do try to be more intentional with my time and stay more present with my people than I used to; I also spend a lot more time, not necessarily on my knees in prayer, but certainly time while I drive and walk and drift off to sleep. I almost always have an ongoing conversation going on with God in my head. more time than not, about both the meaningful and the mundane, of hopes and dreams and small pleas. So much so, that I imagine that even He is thinking, TMI Dany, TMI.  LOL!

And to add to all of those maybe not so deep and philosophical thoughts brewing in my brain today, 😂 I’ll share that I am thoroughly enjoying Here One Moment, by Liane Moriarty, (book club friends: read this one!) that poses the question, can ‘Fate be Fought?’ From my experience, and those who know me well, & know of my story of the Palm reader prediction @ age 21 that turned out to be true 28 years later, my advice is to not mess with the occult, don’t look beyond the veil, not that it might be an inaccurate sneak peak, but I don’t believe that we were designed to know the future, because said knowledge could pollute your todays. Live gratefully in the present & pray fervently & constantly for the little & the large. 

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2-Year Anniversary Reflections by Heidi

Today it has officially been 2 years without my Dad. Two years ago God took my Dad to heaven and left us with a flipped family dynamic. Although we had time to prepare, and we knew that his time was coming, nothing could’ve prepared our family for the immense feeling of emptiness. Even in the midst of the hustle and bustle by our close friends and family, there was still a big void. Our family had always been just the four of us, and he was our leader; He was our rock and our glue. Without him, we were left just the three of us, on our own, to  navigate this world without him. 

I remember that day being swarmed by loved ones, plans, and lots of good food. The day was busy, but when everyone left that night and I went to bed, all I could feel was this big hollow feeling. I had never gone to bed in a world without my Dad in it  to tell me goodnight or to tell me that he loves me for what was on the inside of me and not on the outside. I had never gone to bed with him, not there somewhere in the world to say our prayers with and tuck me in. I felt empty. I have now gone to bed 730 times without him, and I have come to learn that that hallow feeling doesn’t ever leave.

Through stories his friends have shared of their memories of him I’ve learned even more about him. I remember him as my Dad; they  remember him as a cool guy, & apparently a bit of a wild guy as well. I’ve learned he played a special part in many people’s lives, not just ours, and it was a blessing to have him as my Dad. To me, he was my Hero. He was the strongest man in the world and no question or problem was too big that he couldn’t solve. Then one day there was a problem he couldn’t solve or answer. 

Standing in our kitchen mid September of 2021 my Dad told us the doctors had found a large tumor in his colon. When I heard him say this it didn’t seem like the end of the world at the time,  because so many people beat cancer, and I knew my Dad could too. After more tests, we came to learn that this was more than just a tumor, it was stage 4 colorectal cancer. Everytime my Mom or Dad delivered an update on his conditions or shared  what his doctors had said, they would deliver it with silver linings and a hopeful tone. One day I think my Dad just got too tired of putting up a hopeful front and he told my sister and I that odds were not in his favor;  they had  given him a 14% chance of survival. I hated the doctors for giving us that number, and I wanted them to try harder and give us a better number. Slowly but surely we ran out of options, and my Dad grew sicker and weaker. There are no words to describe how I felt watching the strongest man in my life deteriorate until he was so sick he was only a shadow of the man and Father he had once been. When he was put on hospice care and a hospital bed was wheeled into our living room, I knew it was over. There was nothing left, and all I could do was wait and watch. We had been told he had just days left several times, but he kept beating the odds and waking up the next morning. My mom had been sleeping on the couch next to him for weeks, and it had started to cause her  back pain. Her chiropractor told her she needed to go back to the bed for a little bit and to take a break from couch duty. I took her place. The very first night she slept in the bed, and I slept next to my Dad on our couch. I had a bad feeling. I told him I loved him, and that I would see him in the morning, and although he couldn’t talk back, I knew what he wanted to say. I have never been more afraid to fall asleep in my life. I knew that if I closed my eyes that when I woke up he might not be there. I can’t remember what woke me up but around 3 am I woke up. I wouldn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t open my eyes. I was too scared that if I did I would see him lifeless next to me, and he would be gone forever. So I kept them shut until I fell back asleep. I woke up again at almost 8 am forgetting for a second about everything. I called out to my Dad to see if he was awake yet, and I got no response. My heart sank to my stomach, and I felt nauseous. I sat up and looked at him. His eyes were frozen open and his chest wasn’t moving. I screamed. I yelled at him begging him to wake up. Still, no response. I slowly touched him seeing if I could tap him awake, but when my fingers touched his arm, it was cold. I started shaking him and screaming. My mom and sister were in the back of the house arguing but quieted at my screaming . The next thing I remember is my moms footsteps running down the hallway. I remember my mom screaming with shock and sadness and my sister wasn’t able to open her eyes. She didn’t want to see him gone, and I don’t blame her. What happened after that is a blur. I called my uncle (his brother) and I called his mom. I will not ever forget those phone calls. That is where our journey as family 2.0 began.

After that, my perspective on life and faith changed. I did not understand how a God so good and so capable of healing making miracles could let my Dad have so much pain, only to take him away. I did not understand how the world could continue on without my Dad in it. I watched my Mom as what she thought was the rest of her life crumble away, and my heart broke. When she met my Dad, she thought she was done. She had found her best friend, and they made plans for the rest of their life. They were a match like no other, and then he was gone, and she was left alone. I could not admire the strength and faith she had to keep going anymore than I do. She is now my hero, and I strive to one day have half of her strength. She has led our family better than I could’ve imagined, and my sister and I are so blessed to have her. I KNOW my Dad would be proud of her, and I hope she knows it as well. I have watched my sister, as she lost our Dad, the one person who really understood her like no other. She has grown soooo much in the past 2 years, and I can confidently say my Dad would’ve been unimaginably proud of her. Life without him has had ups and downs, and grief is exactly what they said it would be, it comes in waves. Some waves are bigger than others, but we are surrounded with so many people who help us  get through it. The constant we have throughout life is God and family, so, my advice to everyone is to lean into your relationships, and make memories that will last a lifetime, and even after a life. 

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Halli’s Father’s Day Reflections

It has been about 6 months since I have posted anything. I tend to write the most when I am sad, and I have to say, I haven’t been sad enough to put pen to paper in a minute, and praise God for that. But journaling / blogging did truly help me process a lot of dark stuff, and I appreciate those of you who followed along. Today I am posting, not my own words, but the words of my oldest daughter Halli, and I wanted to share them here, albeit a little over a week past the time she penned them.

Happy Father’s Day to the Best Father there Was

It’s hard to believe that it’s been almost two years since he left us, but the time without him has allowed me to realize and more fully appreciate just how great of a dad he was. When he first passed, many people warned me that the first year of losing someone would be the worst, especially during Thanksgiving, Christmas, and birthdays, when at first you forget that they won’t be there. Although those times were difficult, the hardest part for me came later, when I stopped forgetting, and I already knew he wouldn’t be there for the times I needed or wanted him there most. The reason moments like these were harder is because instead of thinking he was still there, I remembered thinking how much he would have wanted to be there too. And I was not only sad for myself, but in some ways, sad for him too.

But now that even more time has passed, my perspective has changed. I know I am lucky to have had a dad who loved me and knew me so well. Now those sad moments also serve as a reminder for me that whenever I needed him, he not only was, but also wanted to be there for me when he could. While he can no longer give advice, encourage, or listen to me, I still know what he would say. I can imagine his words, and so I have realized that though gone, he is still with me through the example he set. To me, this shows that he was an even better father than I realized because, in his limited time, he was able to teach me how to be there for myself even when he can’t be now.

“Listen, my son, to your father’s instruction and do not forsake your mother’s teaching. They are a garland to grace your head and a chain to adorn your neck. “ Proverbs 1:8-9

“Start children off on the way they should go and even when they are old they will not turn from it.” Proverbs 22:6 

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Recovering with Community

So, I don’t know how many of you read my last post, but let me tell you, hysterectomy recovery is NO Joke. I will also share that I went into this with a LOT of trepidation. And I could NOT believe that I was facing such major surgery withOUT Jamey. But you know what, God provides!! I have been astounded at the kindness of friends & neighbors & of course my daughters, though my youngest complained last night that she misses when we “split” the task of rolling the trash can up & down the driveway. (“Split” 🤣🤣🤣 – ouch laughter hurts right now.) I did not ask for meals, or rides, or really assistance in anyway, because I kind of felt like I’ve used up all the goodwill one girl could ever ask for in her life when so many people helped us through cancer & then grief, but this is the South, & I live in the absolute most amazing community & help me they did! 3 of my friends, who also just so happen to live in my neighborhood, ALL brought me & my youngest the most delicious soups & soft burrito dinners, which is about all I could digest recently. I also have to give a shout out to my Sunday School friend who also brought soup & sat & visited with my bedrest bored self. (And now that travel soccer is over, I really do plan to start going to SS again. God has been nudging my heart.) And I can’t not also thank my dear, dear friend who stayed with me overnight in the hospital & helped me try & walk, ever so slowly, dragging my IV pole around in the middle of the night and who later drove over to bring me sexy & romantic things @ 11:00 PM like Metamucil & prunes. Yes, recovery ❤️‍🩹 is hard going, but God has again helped me walk, literally, through the kindness of others. It is humbling, & I am so very thankful, because I could not make it without so much divine support, & I am so thankful for my community.

Snuggled up in my reading nook with the bestest blanket from a friend.

But recovery has slowed me down, wayyyyy down. And if you know me, you know that’s hard to do. But with this time, I have been FINALLY working through an anatomy course that I have been putting off, but that I need to pass as part of my Pilates certification training, something I can’t actually practice for at least another 2 -4 weeks, grrrr. And in this forced upon me slower pace, I have allowed myself to just be, (& try to) listen, & pray. I’ve done a lot of talking to God lately, and to Jamey too. (And while I know God hears me, I’m not really sure Jamey does, though I’ve been talking to him too.) Yesterday was the year & half mark that Jamey’s been gone, & the girls & I have grown & morphed SOOOO much in that time, while still, amazingly, also stayed so much the same at our cores (thanks to our strong Pilates cores 🤣). I’d like to think they’d both be proud & encouraging, but I know there are totally a few choices that I’ve made where I can almost see Jamey with his arms crossed on his chest, lips tight, head cocked to the side, trying to think of the right words to say to make me reconsider something or other. But I also think he’d be impressed with how calmly, because I might have a penchant for the dramatic, I / we handled it when his beloved Jeep died, & we had to call AAA to save us. Life is a series of ups & downs, detours & setbacks, but I’m finding, while life doesn’t often go as I planned, God will walk with you & guide you around the next bend, if you let Him, and He is still doing so many good things & offering up so many good gifts to His children through the hands of people. And to all my people, THANK YOU!

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Facing the Holidays of 2023

Thanksgiving 23 is in the books, & our Christmas decorations are up! Whew! One lap down in the holiday race! I’m personally so dang proud of myself & the girls, and I’m grateful for the friends & family who pulled us through another holiday. Had Jamey had been here, he & I would have been high fiving about a job well done when the last friend left the house. As it was, I turned the lights off by myself, as the rest of the house went to sleep.

Last year, I unashamedly ran away from the holidays as best as I could.  – A real weakness of mine is that I stink @ crucial conversations & confrontations, & I wasn’t ready to face the hard things about the holidays. I know astrology is silly, but the symbolism associated with the zodiac animal of a crab 🦀 & the way it buries itself in the sand to escape hard things, fits me so well, & that’s just what I did last year. I ran away & hid out.

Fast forward to another year, & I’m trying out new battle tactics, a more sustainable long-term strategy, & my girls are bravely fighting in the trenches right alongside me, & together, I believe, we are all finding peace & joy in new & different ways. 

A real blessing for me is that my girls are 16 & 19, not 3 & 6. Being older, they were major players in Thanksgiving this year. Heidi made the best cheesy green bean casserole EVER that she dedicated 5-hours to. And Halli made a Toffee Cheesecake Graham Cracker pie, that was out of this world, & she too gave up hours & hours of her Wednesday to make it. I pulled up the rear with the loaded mash potatoes and gravy, & a pre-ordered Cajun spiced fried turkey. 🦃 

We hosted a grandma for lunch, & then Friendsgiving for drop in food & & drink & fun & hot tub indulgences, oh my. 

While Jamey was never far from our thoughts, we managed to pull off the traditional holiday fare, while also making it new, an important factor I believe, in moving forward with our loss, though that’s just what’s working for me. Loss & life are different for everyone & no one’s journey is the same, so I share, just to share how we are moving through it, because grief does not come with a playbook.

But with a Thanksgiving win behind us, we woke up to face the Christmas season, with a bit of new.  During & after our war with cancer, we implemented survival mode only tactics & for us, that meant borrowing my Mil’s artificial tree for the last few years. And while that was the best I could muster for holiday cheer for Christmas pasts, the girls said not having that real Christmas tree scent in the house made it not even feel like Christmas. Their registered & legitimate complaints loomed over me, because how was I going to manage a real tree by myself??? Cue the hero Andy’s Nursery!! The 3 of us picked out our perfect tree, & had it DELIVERED first thing Friday morning!! Score!!! 

So, while the holidays are not as happy for us as they once were, together we are finding ways to celebrate with our loss, not that we are moving on away from it, but with it. For example, we still hung Jamey’s stocking yesterday, & my youngest intends to write Daddy a letter & stick it in it. Grief, we are discovering, is not ever something you get through, but something you learn to carry, but you do have to train yourself to maneuver through life with that big pack, and you have to rethink battle plans, because none of us are as innocent & nimble as we once were. We can never go back to the magical ignorance of not knowing deep, soul crushing pain, but we can, & we are, finding ways to get by, smile & live another day, and through another holiday season. 

Happy Holidays to everyone, everywhere. 

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A Memoir by Heidi

The Beginning of No End  

He cried. I have only ever seen my dad cry twice before this: Once when his dad died, once when his brother died. Of the many ways I have imagined my life going, this was never a part of my plan. 

“There are treatments we can try, and I promise to do everything I can to fight this, but because of how late we caught it, it doesn’t look good, and it won’t be easy,” my dad says this in an unfamiliar tone with a strong front, but has fear ripping through him and making his voice unsteady. My mom wasn’t even making the slightest bit of effort to hide how terrified she was. 

“The doctors said it’s stage four and predicted he will have about a year” I can barely make out what she was saying through her sobs. I don’t remember what else was said after that, I just remember realizing everything was gonna be different. I was 14, too young to lose my dad. I was in disbelief; there was no way this could possibly be God’s plan for me. 

His treatment started soon after that. Everything was going so fast and day after day he got sicker. He started eating less, feeling less active, sleeping more, and I watched as my dad; the strongest man and biggest role model I knew, started to diminish before my eyes. 

It didn’t happen overnight though, and it wasn’t all hopeless. My mom, always trying to find a brightside, told us, “Maybe this is just a really hard patch in our lives that we will be able to look back on and say ‘damn that was hell’ but we’ll be so much stronger and all together”.

Despite my moms optimism, the next couple of months were full of more chemo, surgeries, scans, tests, and plans. 

Right before we were let out for winter break, I was in my pjs getting ready for bed when I heard our doorbell. Ding ding ding. 

“Jamey will you get the door?” my mom shouts from across the house. 

“Can you get it?” 

“No, I think you should get it honey.” This is when I knew there was something going on. My mom would’ve done anything for my dad, especially such a simple task like answering the front door. Halli must’ve thought this was unusual as well because she meets me in the hallway walking to the front door. As my dad opens the door we see one of his best friends standing there with a single candle in his hand. Confused, I get closer to the door. That’s when I see what is happening. There are almost 100 people in our yard with candles in hand. 

The four of us step outside and we are handed candles and lyrics with Christmas carols on them. Tears filled my eyes as the sound of 100 of our closest friends singing Silent Night filled the air. We sang many songs that night and all cried. Even with so many of our friends and family there supporting us I couldn’t shake the fear that this could be my family’s last Christmas. 

Although there are so many awful and hard things I could talk about going through this, there are so many blessings that surround us as well. The support we felt from our friends and community was unimaginable, and we knew we were not fighting this alone. 

Flashforward to the middle of summer, the doctors have decided they have done all they can do. My dad was put on hospice care and a hospital bed was placed in the middle of our living room. 

My mom slept on the couch next to him every night, but her back started aching so we decided I would sleep next to him instead. 

My mom and I were watching a show next to him. We all got tired and my mom said goodnight. I tried to talk to my dad some, but he wasn’t lucid and couldn’t talk very well. I went to bed and I didn’t know whether I should pray for God to take him and end his misery or for him to live another day. That night I prayed for him to live another day and for God not to take him. It was my job to watch over him tonight; he would survive. 

The next morning I woke up to the sun shining bright in my eyes and my sister and mom fighting in the back of the house. I quickly sat up to see how my dad was doing. 

“Dada,” no response. 

I say it again a little louder, this time making sure he heard me, “Dada.” Again no response. A rush of panic floods through me and I bolt up gettin closer to him. He is still. He isn’t moving. His eyes are frozen open staring into space. I shake him and ask him to wake up. I beg him to wake up. I touch his forehead, the feel of his ice cold skin immediately makes my heart plummet. 

“Mama! Halli! Help, he won’t wake up!” I shout and I scream and I cry. No one comes. I can still hear them fighting about whatever they were fighting about in the back of the house.

 I run to them and scream, “He’s gone.” They come running. Everything after that is a blur. 

There is not a happy ending or even an ending to this story. I am still learning how to live in a world that he is not in. I still wake up some mornings forgetting he is gone and not coming back. Things will never be the way they used to be and they will never end up the way I imagined them to. 

The first week of school my syllabuses come back with only one parent signature and the other line blank. When I look to the sidelines during my games only my mom is sitting there with an empty void where he used to be. Fathers Day is no longer a celebration, it is a day full of grief and sorrow. Holidays are no longer holidays, they are just a time where I miss my dad being by my side. My 16th birthday, graduation, wedding day, and the rest of my life there will always be something missing. 

Everyday is another day that I miss my dad and learn how to live life without him being here. It turns out there is not always an ending and life keeps moving.

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Blessed

Some may have noticed that I haven’t felt like writing recently. I think it might be because as Spring approaches, I too feel like I am getting stronger and finding joy more frequently, and I think it’s easier for me to write when I’m sad or despondent, and I haven’t felt as sad or as despondent lately, which is a good thing. That’s not to say I still don’t get sucker punched with tears. Like when our oldest attended her ball, & I realized that there were two seats saved for me & Jamey, not just one for me. Or when I held out stupid hope that perhaps Jamey had arranged for a dozen red roses 🌹 be delivered on Valentine’s Day before he passed, but later realized that of course he hadn’t. 

But at the same time, I feel God’s hand patting me on the back & pulling me into a comforting embrace ALL. THE. TIME. For though there were two seats saved, I had already agreed to volunteer to help behind the curtain with all the girls getting ready to walk out onto the stage. So instead, I was able to share those two seats with my daughter and one of her best friends. And likewise, though I didn’t receive a dozen red roses from Jamey, I did have a dear friend surprise me with beautiful pink roses, & my girls in turn brought me a dozen red roses & one of the sweetest cards EVER crediting me with being a role model that melted my heart into drippy tears. Plus I had texts & messages from friends near & far checking in & on me all throughout the day, & as God designed it, I was slammed @ work that day too, which was such a blessing. 

I do not take for granted any of those kindnesses. And as I hope all are aware, plans for a joyous and festive celebration of life are underway for Saturday, April 15. But let me tell you how blessed I feel about that: Wives are being widowed all day, every day, from colorectal cancer, from car wrecks, from suicide, from violence, from freak accidents, the list goes on and on, but how many of those widowed wives have a stellar group of people helping them plan a celebration of life for their deceased husband? I would guess not many. I honestly do not know how anyone would cope with widowhood without faith & family & friends & community, but that is because I have those things & those people, & I am so, so thankful. 

Yes, it’s hard going to soccer games without Jamey sitting on the sidelines with me, but how special is it that my brother in law now comes to games & helps me cheer my daughter on? So yes, there is still sadness in my heart. There will always be sadness in my heart, but I’m focusing on the blessings in my life & all the love being poured out on me. I’m also consciously ready to give back to other widows, to offer an ear, a smile, share a tear or a cup of tea. We are not meant to live in this world alone. We were designed for fellowship. God has loved me well, & I in turn hope to share His love with others whose hearts have been ripped open too. 

But in the meantime, I’m focused on preventing anyone, man, woman, or child from experiencing this kind of loss as a result of colorectal cancer. I am so thankful for the Hollingsworth Colorectal Cancer Awareness board for rallying behind me and supporting Jamey’s mission of awareness. We have so many good things in the works for the month of March, colorectal cancer awareness month. I’m thankful for the city of Mountain Brook for declaring March colorectal cancer awareness month. I’m thankful they agreed to light the city fountain blue as an awareness tool. I am thankful that we are launching the Light it Blue yard lantern campaign to raise awareness for early screening, and I’m really, really thankful that the board is helping plan a celebration of life during Jamey’s birthday month. Truly, I’m nearly speechless when I think about how blessed I am to have such a special a group of people who loved my husband, perhaps as much as me, but in different ways, who are helping plan a beautiful & joyous celebration of life. 

So in honor of Valentines Week, I’ll close by saying blessings & love are all around us, if we just open our hearts & eyes to feel & see it, because God is good all the time.

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6 Months

6 months. Jamey has been gone 6 months today. We lost him in the early hours of July 19th, though we didn’t know it until 7 AM, and now it is six months later, another J month, January 19. A lot can happen in 6 months. For reference, I could take you on a quick, & I mean quick, trip down memory lane & tell you about how we met, hung out, started dating, & got engaged in a mere 6 months, but then my word count for this post would far exceed the time you have to read a blog like this. I will say that some people were kind of shocked that Jamey pulled the trigger so quickly, but I was even further swept off my feet by the fact that he was so absolutely sure about me & about us that he didn’t / couldn’t wait. And truth be told, that’s kind of how those Hollingsworth boys used to roll. His father proposed to his mother after just 6 months, & he has two brothers who did the same, & all had/ have happy & long-lasting marriages. Plus, the speedy quick trigger worked for me too, because I’ve always been of the mindset, when you know you know, ya know? Now I get that philosophy is not for everyone, but it worked for us, & I so enjoyed the whirlwind romance. And it was for sure, one of the best 6-month periods of my life. 

A selfie pre smart phones, Dany & Jamey during our 1st 6 months together.

But fast forward to today, & I have to say these past 6 months have been way less fun, & there has been nothing quick about them. I’ve decided that there’s a loneliness that comes with widowhood that just sort of settles in your bones. I mean it’s not just about missing your person; it’s also about missing the person you were with your person. It’s about no longer feeling seen or understood. It’s about doing the day to day alone & not having anyone to really tell & share it all with. Did something even really happen in the day if you don’t retell the story to someone who really cares that evening? And believe me, teenagers are not the best listeners and mine are really not that interested in my stories. Sigh.

Now I’ve had bad break ups before; we all have I’d guess. And I’ve done all the silly broken up girl things: drive-bys with sorority sisters, orchestrated happen-chance encounters, & of course, pre-smart phones, the call ☎️ & hang up thing. I’ve sat around wondering 💭 might so and so be thinking about me too. So yes, I’ve played the part of the sad & dramatic girl who had been jilted by love before, but widowhood is different. Because the thing is with all of those theatrics, there is always at least a chance of getting back together. But once someone passes through the veil to heaven, there’s no amount of scheming a girl can pull off that can fan a flame 🔥 & rekindle the romance. 

Jamey is gone, & until I cross through the veil myself, we aren’t getting back together. That reality doesn’t get easier to accept, but rather it makes me forlorn & wistful, especially on a dismal & rainy day in January. 

While I’m thankful for my job, my girls, & my friends, I so miss talking to Jamey at the end of the day. I miss his encouragement, & I miss his jibes & even his utter disbelief when I recount some ridiculous story about how again I managed to get myself into some mess, that only I could get myself into. I miss his dry wit; I miss our long conversations about politics & the state of the world. I miss his counsel about the girls, & I miss the peace of knowing we were coming home to one another every single night that one of us wasn’t traveling for work. There’s so much comfort in the routine, & there’s something beyond precious & powerful about being a part of a whole, whereas today, I’m just a floundering part. 

So, I encourage you all to tell your person how loved they are. Give them a squeeze & be thankful for their warm body full of life & love. Overlook their shortcomings & be thankful for your present moment. 

I know that my grief will surely lessen, or at least I’ll learn how to carry it better with the continued passing of time. Truth be told, there are days now that I do feel like I’ve gotten a better grip on it, & it feels a bit lighter which makes room in my heart to also feel joy & love & laughter. But on anniversary days & special occasion days, it all feels heavier, darker, sadder, & lonelier. 

But also, on days like today, I try to find my peace with the Lord for as I read in one of my grief meditations:

“Let God be the source of your hope and joy. Believe these words of Jesus in John 16: “I tell you the truth, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy” (v. 20). Jesus continued: “A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born, she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. “So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy” (vv. 21-22).

With that I’ll close and wait to see what the next 6 months does to make more room for healing & joy & love. 

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Grief & Squirrels

A cute and fuzzy distraction

*Disclaimer: I am neither a therapist, psychologist nor a psychiatrist. My only expertise about grief, is that I’m living through it. So, what I’m saying may not be helpful to anyone but myself, but this I know to be true; it’s working for me now, in this moment, but I can’t predict how it will feel in 6 months.

I have heard from well-intentioned friends, read online & been advised by many that a grieving widow should not make any big decisions for one year. One year. But one year can feel like a lifetime to just sit with an emotion. 

One of my daughters asked me during the end stages, hypothetically, ‘If Daddy passed, how long did I anticipate just lying in the bed being a zombie?’ I gave her my best guesstimate, which at the time I thought was a conservative estimate, but she was aghast that it would take me that long to pull it together. But for whatever it’s worth, I’ve not been a zombie this whole time. I don’t think life lets you zombie out. I don’t think I have ever had the luxury to just curl up in the fetal position and shut down. But in some ways, many ways, I think all of the responsibilities that keep you moving forward are a blessing. I mean who really wants to be a zombie anyway? And let me tell you from experience, just because you lose your husband, the world does not stop. Life goes on around you. Seasons come and go; children grow, & nobody’s waiting for a full year for me to sit on the bench & and then put me back in the game after a year.

But my personality is not a sit on the bench type of personality anyway. I am terrible @ waiting. I am a doer, and the grass rarely grows under my feet. 

But while grief has touched and changed just about every part of me, it has not changed that part of me; I guess it’s just who I am at my core.

Jamey used to always tease me about how I always acted like recipes were mere suggestions as opposed to directions that were meant to be followed. He was not wrong. And so, it should probably not come as a surprise to anyone who knows me, that I have not just been sitting and waiting and zombieing out for the last six months.

Now I haven’t done anything drastic. I haven’t moved away. I haven’t sold my home. I haven’t quit my job. I haven’t gotten a tattoo, & I haven’t run away from home. But I have done a few things. 

For one, The Hollingsworth Colorectal Cancer Awareness Foundation, & its 11 board members, have been busy, which has been such a blessing & a positive force in my life. It’s fueled me to actively feel like I’m saving somebody else from this sadness. As a board, we have plans in the works to submit a proposal to the state office to declare March Colorectal Cancer Awareness month. We have designs to apply for an application to produce personalized license plates in AL to help spread awareness about the need to get screened for colorectal cancer @ 45 versus 50. And as you probably know, I’ve kind of stepped into the role of colonoscopy queen 👸🏻 in my writings & in all of my interactions. And there are plans underway for a joyous celebration of life in the Spring. (Evite & information soon to be shared.)

But I’ve also contracted for some home renovations, for while I intend to stay in our home, I also feel the need to modify things, so it’s not a home frozen in time like a memorial, but a home representative of our new Family 2.0. The girls & I ventured across the border for Christmas in Cancun, & I hope to bring a new puppy into the family by the end of 2023. 

But while each of those individual items are noteworthy and awesome in and of themselves, the best part about all of them collectively is the distraction that they provide. They are all bright, & beautiful shiny objects that take my eyes off the pain. And I happen to think that for me, right now, distraction is the most blissful antidepressant medication that can be prescribed. 

So, I guess only time will tell if I’m making things worse for myself later, by not sitting still, but for right now, I am enjoying the distractions. I am enjoying looking away from the pain, & when I do allow things to settle down, I hope I will feel stronger & be stronger, & be proud of the path I’ve walked & the woman I’ve become. But if not, I’m sure there will be another bright & shiny object or cute & fuzzy squirrel 🐿️ to distract me

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Goodbye 2022

*Disclaimer: I am writing and posting this blog from my phone in an airport. So please forgive all typos, and grammatical errors.

So, without question, 2022 was THE. WORST. YEAR. OF. MY. LIFE, & I am more than ready to kick it to the curb. 

I am truly hopeful that 2023 will be better. I’d like to think that there’s no way it couldn’t be better, but I don’t want to jinx myself, or challenge 2023 & have it say “Here, hold my beer.” 🍺 

And not only was 2022 AWFUL, I will say that it isn’t going quietly into the night. In the last few weeks of this wretched year, I was bitten by a dog on my face, a tree fell in my yard knocking out our power for almost 20 hours during one of the coldest spells I have ever lived through in Alabama (silver lining, that event forced me to really up my fire making skills,) 2 sinks leaked & flooded my cabinets, & if all that wasn’t yuck enough, I either twisted / sprained or developed some sort of infection in my ankle causing me to literally hobble home. 🤦🏼‍♀️

But there have also been some wonderful moments closing out this heinous year. The girls & I swam with a dolphin 🐬& snorkeled with turtles 🐢 in Mexico. Yes, we have cried, but together we have also laughed. Halli committed to the most perfect college for her & received a size-able 4-year scholarship. Friends have rallied around us & seen us through in a million little & big ways, & I am grateful. But grateful doesn’t mean I’m not ready to wash the remnants of 2022 off & down the drain, & I almost wonder if God is not trying to help me do just that too. 

When I went to Napa with friends in September it rained like it was Alabama for most of the trip, which is very unusual for that area. Then when we tried to run away from grief by going to Mexico 🇲🇽 for 🎄 Christmas; it rained for 4 whole days, again a very unusual weather pattern for that part of the world. And don’t forget the sinks I mentioned earlier & my poor flooded cabinets. So so much water!! I googled it, & it seems that water 💦 is referred to 722 times in the Bible, more often than faith, hope, prayer, and worship. But it doesn’t always symbolize the same thing. Sometimes it symbolizes difficulties in life (check.)

 “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you…” – Isaiah 43:2

Sometimes water is used to symbolize eternal life. Sometimes it symbolizes the word of God. Sometimes it symbolizes cleansing.

     “…let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water.” – Hebrews 10:22

Likely I’m reading too much into all this water, but when your world, your life, your heart, is ripped so tragically apart, I imagine it’s not all that uncommon to try & find meaning in things, because random is just too hard to accept. But though I share the same first three letters of his name, I was not gifted with the skills of interpretation like Daniel in the Old Testament, so what God might actually be saying to me is a bit fuzzy, but I’m leaning into the idea of cleansing. I’d like to think He is trying to rinse sadness & heartache & sickness away. I’d like to think, I pray, 2023 will be better. 🙏🏻

And with that, I wish everyone a very happy (& dry) new year, & I thank you all for loving my little Family 2.0 through this last year.