Tag: Widow

Posted on

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.

Posted on

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. 

Posted on

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

Posted on

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. 

Posted on

12/4 – The anniversary of another one of the worst days of my life… 

So, I guess I’m figuring out, because I’m smart like that, some days are harder & more poignant than others. Obviously, Thanksgiving was particularly hard. I cried more that week than I had in maybe a month, & that made me feel guilty on top of sad. Guilty, because for the month prior, I had felt pretty O.K., even happy at times. But here we are at another significant day, but maybe only to me & me alone, December 4. 

It was a year ago today that I think I really started to realize my husband, my best friend, ‘my person’ who I bounced EVERY idea off (bless him for always listening), confessed every sin or social faux pas to, was freaking dying. I mean I “knew” the odds were against us before, but I had led such a Horatio Alger like life before, I truly believed we’d get the miracle I’d been praying for. I mean of course we would, right? Spoiler alert: We didn’t. I even tried to point out to God what was in it for Him, if He saved Jamey.

In prayer, I proposed that I, one who is rarely ever short for words, would go on a marketing campaign for God that would go kind of like me espousing His amazing & perfect gift of healing, so you too (person listening to my proposed marketing plan) must just keep the faith & keep believing, because God can save you too! Ha! As if God needed me to spread His miracle message!! The audacity of my dumb self-astounds even me, but still, it’s true. I thought that. But my ridiculous & small-minded project plans for ‘saving Jamey & spreading God’s miracle of healing message,’ were clearly NOT God’s plans, & it was on December 4, I started to come to terms with that. 

After a series of events that I don’t fully recall right now, but I could probably look back over our Caring Bridge posts to find (but I think rereading those right now would feel like a punch in the gut) I took Jamey to the ER for the first time during our cancer journey. (Believe me, it was NOT the 1st time I took Jamey to the ER in our marriage, as there were numerous ⚽️ injuries in our early years, Supper Club zip line escapades, & a bag of broken bones over the years that had him riding shot gun on the way to whatever the closest ER wa at the time. And the fact that he was in the passenger seat also spoke volumes to his health, as he always preferred to drive versus ride. Not sure if that speaks more to my driving skills or his need to be in control, but that’s the way it was. 😂) 

I remember calling one of my besties that morning to ask her where I should take him & if she concurred, we were ER worthy. Even calling her that morning broke my heart, because she answered all perky & happy thinking, I was going to ask her to go for a walk that day, not for an ER strategy, & then I hit her from left field & started sobbing into the phone. I remember Jamey putting up NO resistance to the idea of going to the ER, which was also particularly worrisome, because he was THE most stoic man I had ever met, & I expected him to balk at the idea. But what I remember even more, is Jamey not even being able to get out of the car to walk in under the portico, but instead he had to crawl to a bush to vomit 🤮from the intensity of the pain. I remember having to park in a kind of sketch spot & Jamey of course, having bigger more painful things on his mind, not noticing that I had to walk to & from said sketch location alone, & how that too was a dawning realization for me that I was losing my protector, my body guard. I remember realizing now, all I had got protection was God & His angels, and I wasn’t just thinking about that hospital visit, but for life. I was starting to realize that I was entering a new ‘alone’ phase that I really wasn’t all that familiar with.  But on December 4, 2021, when I had to walk back & forth to get things, (blanket, water bottle, pillow, etc.) from my car in the dark, on my own, I did so while quoting scripture in my head, my version of holy pepper spray. 

Next, I remember, that once he was discharged, he settled in to watch Alabama play (& beat GA 24 – 41,) while I tried to decorate our first ever artificial Christmas tree, because though I was fighting like hell to maintain some sort of normalcy for our girls, I did not have it in me to haul in & set up a real tree all by myself. And believe it or not, I remember pouring a strong drink that night & finishing it before one of Jamey’s oldest friends called me to check in. His innocent ‘how you doing?’ broke the damn of everything I’d been holding in for the last few month, & I let my tears & wails go. Later I learned that though I had holed myself up behind closed doors to talk to him, the whole family heard me sobbing & hollering in anguish, that ‘my husband was dying.’ Not my finest care partner moment, but alas, it happened. 

The next day I awoke with not only a pounding headache, but a phone call from the same bestie checking in on me, because Jamey had called her the night before to tell her I was cracking under the pressure, which led to an epic Rage Room girl’s night out. But oh what a freaking fateful & awful night December 4 was last year, & how even remembering it now, a year later, it still stings. 

But believe it or not, on this December 4, though we three Hollingsworth girls miss Jamey like mad, I am at least comforted knowing he is fully healed in heaven.  He was in sooo much pain, and so much discomfort, and things only got worse from 12/4.  I’ve said this before, but I still wish it: if only the dying process could be more like turning in your keys when your lease was up, & not all the pain &💩 suffering. Dying is so undignified, & it’s gut wrenching to watch a cherished loved one go through it. But again, as I’ve also said before, as awful and heart breaking as it was to walk alongside Jamey as he moved to the light, there was absolutely no other place I would have rather been than by his side. In a weird and twisted way, standing by him during that horrific journey, was truly one of the greatest privileges and honors of my life, no matter how much it hurt us both. 

Posted on

Decisions without Jamey

Several people have asked me recently, if it is hard for me to make decisions without Jamey. For sure, it is, but I do think one weird positive about cancer, is that Jamey kind of trained me a bit. His 10-month fight was kind of like the saddest apprenticeship ever. But now that he has left me to carry on, I’m starting to tweak things big & small & make them my own. Home improvements we talked about but put off? I’m doing. Meanwhile while his laser focused mad dishwasher management skills are sorely missed, I’ve revamped our loading protocols. (Jamey, if you’re able to read my journal entries, go ahead & skip this next sentence. I may or may not run the dishwasher from time to time when every cubic inch of space has not been maximized. 😱) 

But just like I think if you are quiet enough, and still enough, and listen hard enough, you can feel the nudging of the holy spirt in your heart, so too I think I can hear the answer to “What Would Jamey Do?”  And while no person completely knows the workings of another’s mind, after being in relationship and marriage for 21 years +, I do think I can likely guess, with at least 90% accuracy, what Jamey would do in most situations.  But just like when he was alive, that doesn’t mean I always agree with ‘What Jamey Would Do.”  I mean do any 2 people ever always agree 100%??? I know there are currently a few decisions on the table where he & I would disagree, but here I am, living this life without him, and so I carry on, listening to his voice in my head, considering his opinion, and moving forward, albeit a bit sideways & wonky from time to time. But now that I am the only one left standing, like we used to say to our girls, they, but in this case, Jamey, has input but not say.  The final ‘say’ in decisions at this point in time, are mine and mine alone, but so too then are the consequences & repercussions. All I can really do is to keep praying through decisions & to keep leaning on my trusted & wise friends for counsel. But am I getting them all right? I doubt it. Have I made a few mistakes already? 💯! But I’m trying. And I’d like to think someone would at least give me an A- for effort. (Have I shared already how I love high marks & gold🌟 stars?) 

Would I rather be making decisions & weighing the pros & cons with my partner in crime? Absolutely! But that is not the path God has set before me to walk. And while I don’t necessarily love this whole ‘going it alone’ business, I am thankful for the village who is quite literally picking me up & carrying me down the road when I do I stumble, or feel lost, or confused or overwhelmed, because I am literally all the emotions these days. 

And as for what I have done so far, so far, I haven’t made any major decisions that Jamey & I hadn’t at least already discuss. Granted, I may have pulled the trigger and set a few of those decisions into motion faster than I know he would have, (the grass doesn’t really grow under my feet much,) they are not decisions or choices that we hadn’t already talked about.  Towards the end, we even discussed some hypothetical big decision things he thought I should do in the event…so in a way, he left me with an outline, not a sentence outline, and not a paper, but an outline.  I wish it were more of an instruction manual, but it’s not, which is fine by me, as I tend not to follow instructions very well anyway.  (Jamey used to say that I treated recipes more like suggestions or inspirational guides, as opposed to mandatory steps. Can you tell that I am NOT a baker?  LOL!) However, I do wish that I could see through the veil and converse with Jamey like the character in Sixth Sense, but if I said that I did that in this blog, you’d likely be more than reading this post, you’d be calling the authorities.  LOL!  

But for those of you helping me hold up my little family of 3 up these days, thank you. And please, keep it up, because I’m still peddling fast and furiously with training wheels. 

Posted on

Thankful for much, even the suck..

So, here we are, facing the 1st of the Hallmark holidays without Jamey, Thanksgiving. 

Thanksgiving used to be kind of a big deal for us, because it was the 1st big family gathering Jamey & I, several years ago, finally felt equipped & ready to host on our own. Early marriage we always trekked it back down to Florida to be with my parents & grandparents, but once we lost my grans & moved into a house with a little more elbow room, we were ready to host. Now that’s not to say we did do so seamlessly, as it took us a few years to get the hang of it, but we did it & loved it. 

However, we most certainly learned a few things along the way. We learned that if Jamey was intent on smoking the bird 🦃 in the Big Green Egg, Thanksgiving lunch @ 12:00 PM was not a good idea, because it meant he (we) had to stay up most of the night monitoring the temperature, & you can’t stay up all night without imbibing 🥃🍺🍷 at least a wee bit, so subsequent feasts were all dinners versus lunches. I learned that it’s really over kill to deep fry the onions on your back porch in your new Fry Daddy for the green bean casserole, & store bought, fried & dried, onions are really delicious when comparing the ROI. Yes, lots of tweaks were made over the years. We even moved the festivities out to Smyer Lake one year, where the kitchen appliances may not have been as nice, but the ambiance was top drawer. But then Covid 🦠😷 side swiped our newly acquired hosting hats, & we had to settle for a low-key family of 4. Oh, how innocent & naive I was to think that Thanksgiving with just the 4 of us during a pandemic was rather somber & sad. I mean what I wouldn’t give to go back in time & relish it more, appreciate it more, cherish it more, & imprint every minute of it into my wretched memory more. Just writing that makes me sob big hard tears that I’ve been managing to keep at bay for longer & longer periods of time as of late, but I guess it just goes to show you that grief lives in a deep dark well that never runs dry. 😥 But despite the tears, I’m truly thankful for the many, many happy memories. I just sometimes still can’t believe that they really are just memories, and that realization sucks, but life goes on for the rest of us.

Our “feast” this year will be small & mostly ordered from a local delicatessen, but we will get by & try to focus on the many, many good things & countless blessings in our lives. For example, our oldest has been receiving college acceptances & both girls just might be able to squeak out an all A report card. And friends! Oh my goodness our friends! Friends continue to show up & support us in the most unexpected & beautiful ways, whether it be by coming to the the 18th Annual Finish The Fight Iron Bowl Kickoff Casino Party last week, or by stomping out my boa that may or may not have caught fire 🔥 recently, or by leaving THE. MOST. DELICIOUS. loaf of “Rosemary Remembrance” bread on our front porch. (It was sooo good; I’ve even asked for the recipe & I don’t bake, & I’ve never made 🍞 bread in my life!) The kindnesses & support are nothing short of phenomenal, & I’m so thankful! But the suck is never too far off. In the last 2 weeks, 2 dear & longtime friends have shared with me that loved ones in their inner circles have been diagnosed with CRC. It feels like it’s everywhere, but my daughter says it’s just because I’m hyper focused on CRC. Maybe so, but I’d be negligent if I didn’t put in a plug here for everyone reading this now, if you haven’t yet, schedule your colonoscopy sooner versus later. I don’t want anyone else to feel compelled to write a grief blog, maybe some sort of happy blog, but let’s prevent anymore pathetic grief blogs.

I’ll close out this post on Thanksgiving Eve, with a PSA that’s not about colonoscopies: Love on your honeys. Squeeze ‘em tight. Don’t sigh or fight if someone overcooks, undercooks, or forgets to cook anything. Just squeeze their hands & give thanks to God, & try with all your might to remember & appreciate it all. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

P.S.  Apologies for not posting last week.  I was running around with my hair on fire (It was apparently out of control!) and pealing in everywhere I went on two wheels. Then throw in one of your besties visiting from out of town, a fundraiser to “Finish the Fight” with a dozen or so friends all gathered in one place, and journaling / blogging was just not happening. 😊

Posted on

My Grief Tiger

In some ways I think Jamey would love that I am comparing grief to a tiger since he was such an avid Auburn fan (though for his college football loving 🏈 ❤️ heart’s sake, I’m kind of thankful he’s in heaven and not able to watch Auburn play 🏈 these days. 😂) 

But I think Aubie is a much more lovable tiger than what I have come to know as the ‘Grief Tiger.’  I first started thinking about grief as a tiger 🐅 after listening to a podcast about grief by Anderson Copper, All There Is, and it resonated with me.  In the podcast, Stephen Colbert says that those who mourn are forever after accompanied by a tiger 🐯 who sits next to them for the rest of their lives taking up space.  (I also appreciate that he didn’t use an elephant as a metaphor, because we were a complete house divided when it came to college football, & I’d like to keep my mascot, Big Al, in a happy, positive light. 😂🐘 🏈 RTR!)

But I totally get the ever-present tiger metaphor, because with time, I am discovering that I can have moments of real happiness and laughter, but then a split second later, I can feel deep sadness and heartache, like a homesickness that cuts straight to the core of my soul. 

Sometimes that sadness leaks out onto my face, or appears in my eyes, or can be heard in my voice, or felt by the sudden extreme heaviness of my feet. And sadness is such a vagabond, for it just shows up, unannounced, & at the darndest times. Like when on a Microsoft Teams meeting with my manager last week, our landline, (yes, we still have one of those ☎️ 😂 mainly reserved for telemarketers) it decided to join our call. I was on camera chatting it up, & then that d**** tiger got up and growled right in my face & slashed my heart with a razor-sharp claw, right as Jamey’s voice started explaining, loud & clear, that ‘we’ can’t come to the phone… It undid me. And right there on my video call, with my manager (who is actually also a dear friend – treasures in the darkness right there), I had to bury my hands in my face & sob 😭 for a moment. Other times I can just feel the warm, foul breath of the “Grief Tiger” on my neck, or the swish of its tail as he circles me staring me down & daring me to make a sound & carry on. 

But fortunately for me, as I have come to know him, the “Grief Tiger” is not just your regular old tiger.  The grief tiger, while ever present, does sleep a lot, praise God, allowing the mourner, me, to function. I attribute much of my tiger’s sleepiness to the fact that I wore him out with my “anticipatory grief” the whole 10 months of Jamey’s fight against cancer. I literally cried every day & most nights, frequently & hard, but the thing about a sleeping tiger is that you (I) never know what memory, what sound, what smell, what phrase, or what place will wake him up. But when he is awake, he often pounces, and his claws are sharp, and his fangs cut deep. 

I can only hope that eventually, with time, those claws and fangs will dull, and while I am guessing his attacks will still hurt, I hope I’m building up some thick ole scar tissue that will protect my heart & prevent the attacks from ripping through me as completely, or hurting quite as much in the future as they still do today. But whether sleeping or awake, I am coming to realize that he will always be with me, my “plus one” for the rest of my life. Maybe I’ll luck out, maybe tigers don’t really like turkey, because otherwise, oh what fun Thanksgiving will be. 

🐯+ 🦃 = 💔❤️‍🩹

Posted on

A Work in Progress & Progressively Working

Friends, 

Through all the grief 😢 support systems & tools I’ve been leaning into since Jamey’s passing, one of the things I keep reading / hearing about is that it can be helpful to channel your hurt, anger, & bewilderment into something positive. Well, in the truest form of love, I think Jamey, knowing that already, put things into motion, before he left me, that would not only help others, but help me too. By standing up the Hollingsworth CRC Awareness Fund (HCRCA) he not only actively modeled the second greatest commandment in Matthew 22: 39 “…You shall love your neighbor as yourself” but by asking me & the girls & his dear, dear friends to champion his vision & see it through, he is, from heaven, not only actively saving others from his fate, but saving me from an abyss of negativity & loss. Words really can’t express (though I do tend to speak & write a lot them 😂) how therapeutic it’s truly been to feel like I/we, with God’s blessing, have the power to turn our nightmare into good for someone else.

     (Genesis 50:20 “As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today.”)

 Tuesday night the HCRCA board met, & it filled my heart to see all the good work we are all working on together. We have so many events & message campaigns in the works, it’s truly flabbergasting, & I know Jamey would be proud. (He might also have a few opinions & tweaks he’d make, but …) I won’t hit you with a long list of things to come, but I will leave you with two things.

  1. If you are in the Birmingham area, or within proximity & would like to enjoy a fun night out for a good cause, Uber over & join me & the other HCRCA board members on 11/17 for the Iron Bowl Kickoff Casino Cruise. This year I’m the Honorary Women’s Committee Chair, & while my date is in heaven this year, I’d love to have as many friends who are able, to come & keep me company. 
  2. Please watch & share this < 3-minute video with everyone you know between the ages of 40 – 55. 

Until next week, I remain a work in progress & progressively working. 

Posted on

Public Journaling: To Share or Not Share?

Someone recently asked me why I feel the need to publicly write about my grief?  At first, I will admit, that question kind of ruffled my feathers a bit, but it’s a valid question.  She wasn’t asking me after all, why I felt the need to write at all.  I think the therapeutic nature of writing has well been established and accepted.  Is it therapeutic for everyone?  Of course not! For some, writing is about as much fun as manipulating spreadsheets is for me.  Zilch! But after pondering her question, I think my answer is a mish mash of a lot of different things. 

1. American culture doesn’t really have a tradition of acknowledging someone in mourning.  It was once commonplace for a widow to wear black for a full year. I think there was something beautiful in that.  Mourning garments were easily recognizable, and I am sure it thereby offered the mourner grace. It’s been a little over 3 months for me, and while grief in general sucks, I am fully aware that I have been exceptionally blessed. I was able to take 10-weeks to try and get my life and my head together before going back to work, which is a luxury of the highest order denied many.  I also have an amazingly strong network of friends and a stellar faith family who have & continue to support me in countless ways! But do I feel 100% myself again after 14 weeks?  Heck no!  Do I still choke up at the darndest times?  Yes.  Did I have a full out boo-hoo session into the scruff of my very squooshy dog’s neck JUST the other night?  Yes! But I know Cosbo 🐶will never talk smack about me or make me feel weak for again being knocked sideways & onto my knees by grief. Grief is a sneaky B****! But still, I think wearing something that identified me as ‘in mourning’ would be helpful.  I think it would explain my state of mind now, and cut me some slack here and there for those who don’t know me well, but then again, we live in a broken world, and perhaps mourning garb today would just make widows targets for scamming. I mean I already question if I’m getting taken advantage of every now and again. Like did I really need 4 new tires this week???

2.  By sharing my journey, I am finding comfort and common ground with others who are grieving or have grieved the loss of someone they love.  There is a kinship between mourners.  Like Harry Potter who was able to see the thestral horses because he had experienced the loss of his parents, mourners are now all a part of the same sad club, and we will forever see things differently than our friends and family who have been fortunate enough to have not gone through this hell yet.  There is also comfort and camaraderie knowing you aren’t the only one who is hurting and that there are others out there who just sort of “get it.” Plus, grief is not often talked about in our society today, so none of us really know how to comfort and support those who are grieving.  And so, I guess I am also trying to share my journey to serve as one relatable experience for others to help them understand and empathize with people in their lives, should they or someone they know experience deep loss.  

3.  And finally, I think I am enjoying sharing my journey, because I loved Jamey so much.  I love talking about him.  I love talking with other people who loved Jamey.  I think that the sadness one feels is in direct proportion to the love that was lost, and just like when you are giddy with new love and want the world to know, I want the world to know that I lost a great love, a great man, a great friend, & a fantastic father to our girls. It still boggles my mind that he is not coming home ever again. It boggles my mind that the world keeps spinning and that time keeps moving on, and look out, ⚠️ the holidays are right around the corner, but Jamey isn’t. 

And to further support my weekly practice of public journaling, I will share an excerpt I read in one of my daily meditations about grief called, ‘Healing After a Loss.’

“To read the works of others who have gone through grief is another way of keeping the process going, and of finding another understanding friend. When a writer describes for me how I’m feeling, she or he becomes, my friend; I am not alone. Somehow if that person has achieved some peace with the pain, enough to write it down. Maybe I too, will find my way through this.” – Martha Whitmore Hickman.

My hope is to not only write the pain out of my heart, but be a friend in grief to others and maybe encourage other believers in their own struggles when they read how I believe He (with a capitol H) is walking with me & continues to strengthen me.