Tag: Widow

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Rings & Middle Fingers 💍 🖕🏼 Oh My!

So, I’ll start by copying a phrase I’ve heard a friend use. I believe I’m somewhat of an “emotional anorexic.” Don’t worry; it’s not anything clinical or worrisome, but when I get sad, like really, really sad, I also tend to lose my appetite, & thereby pounds. But again, don’t worry.  I am consciously eating everyday, & since I’ve gone back to work, I’ve been eating more. (Why is that? I guess working makes me hungry? 🤷🏼‍♀️)

Anyway, I remember there was a time after a relationship break-up when I also lost quite a few pounds in a six-month period just a few years after college. It worked to my advantage then though, because that was right when I met Jamey. I was at a Christmas cocktail party, wearing a nearly backless dress when a friend pointed me out to Jamey, and he supposedly said “Dude! That girl is wayyyy out of my league!” Clearly, I wasn’t. I was 💯 in Jamey’s league, but still we talked about that night for years afterwards, & he always claimed to have said that. In fact, he even referenced that night, that dress, & his reaction to me, all teeny tiny in it, in the last voicemail message he left me from his hospice bed in July.  (FYI, I will never ever delete that voicemail.)  And of-course being the emotional & sentimental keeper of things that I am, I still have that dress too, though I would never again wear it at my age. (Not only is it practically backless, it’s also scandalously short! 😳) 

All that to say, I have dropped several pounds during our cancer journey and Jamey’s passing. So much so, that my wedding band was starting to slip off my finger when I exercised. 

So, I started researching what to do. What’s acceptable? What did other widows do about wearing their wedding bands? I talked to widows. I paid attention @ grief groups to what other people had or didn’t have on their fingers. And basically, I realized it’s a free-for-all out there. Some take them off and put them in a drawer forever more.  Some move them to their right hand. Others wear them on their ring finger forever. Some have them made into a more fashionable piece of jewelry.  None of those options seemed right to me. But as my ring 💍 got more & more slippery, it weighed on me. Finally, one night while talking to a friend on the ☎️ phone, they clarified it for me by saying, “Dany, you have to do whatever feels right to you, & you alone.” I don’t know why hearing that was so freeing, but it was, and it helped me turn down the interference in my head about what other people did & didn’t do or what Uncle Google thought I should or shouldn’t do. And so, I was able to make a decision that feels right for me & me alone.

As such, this week I had my ring sized, and I moved it over one finger. I envision wearing it forever, but not on my ring finger of my left hand. So, I moved it to my middle finger of my left hand where it can still nestle up against the finger where it’s been for almost 22 years. The few days that it was at the jewelers, and I couldn’t wear it at all, my hand felt naked, and I felt off kilter, which confirmed for me that NOT wearing it was not an option for me.

So, as with everything else these days, here I go alone on my own forging my own new path. (Coincidentally, I can’t find any Google articles, or any widows who seem to have chosen to wear their wedding bands on the middle finger of their left hand like me, but again, I seem to march to the beat of a different drummer, so that doesn’t surprise me.)  But when I picked it up from the jeweler, the same young clerk who helped me mount Jamey’s wedding band on a necklace was there. This is the same clerk who had a tattoo of the same inscription we had put in Jamey’s wedding band, P2. To me, I felt like this was another God wink. I felt like God was condoning my decision and giving me a nod and a wink that I was doing the right thing, & that He blessed my decision too. I know I’m probably reading too much into things, but it gives me comfort, nonetheless. 

So, there it is. My ring has moved. I’ve read that wearing rings, rings of any kind, on your middle finger, of either hand, is symbolic of power. I don’t know about all that, but I definitely feel stronger when I look 👀 down & see my wedding bands. I feel like I’m carrying a piece of Jamey and that he is still with me, still cheering me on, still encouraging me from above. He’s just changed seats in the cheering section, but he’s with me still, in my (bruised) heart & on my hand. ❤️‍🩹💍

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2 Steps Forward 1 Step Back

I literally just woke up crying. It sucks so much trying & mostly holding it together all day, only to have my subconscious wake me up crying in my sleep, & that’s only after it finally allowed me to sleep in the 1st place. 

I feel like I’ve been doing so👌🏻 “ok” lately. I’ve even had spells of happiness, & I thought 💭 I can do this. We, the girls & I, can do this. 

But I guess, two steps forward & one step back, is still at least one step forward, right? 🦶

After wrestling with insomnia for three + hours, I finally gave up & turned on the light (a sad perk of sleeping alone) to do my Bible study. In a better place, & with a new sense of peace & calm, I was able to go back to sleep only to have a Jamey dream. 

Several friends have shared their Jamey dreams with me. Theirs are always happy & contain messages from Jamey about how he feels grrrrrreat, & how heaven is awesome! Now I’ve had a few Jamey dreams myself, but they are very infrequent, & they have yet to be happy. They have moments of happy, like in one he hugged me, in another we held hands which was so marvelous. It’s amazing how much I miss hugs & hand holding, but no messages of peace or love 💕 or instructions from above are ever shared with me. 

In this last one, he & I were sitting at a table together going through the mail. (Can you say mundane??) I opened & read a sympathy card while he watched me. I can still see his face in my head watching me react to the card. I started holding back tears & clinching my fists. (I’m not sure I even clinch my fists ✊🏻 in real life, but again, cue the warped subconscious.) He asked me “What is it?” I told him about the card & started explaining that it just hurt so, so much. Then he asked me if I still loved him. 😳 As if I could EVER not! And all I could do in my dream was close my eyes 👀 & nod yes over & over while tears 😭poured out of my eyes. I woke up like that, all wet faced & sad. 

So, yay! Here I am, all rested & refreshed & ready to face another day, but with a bit of guilt woven in. I tell you, this whole widow’s walk is complicated for sure. Sometimes I feel strong & capable for holding it together and making plans for the future, mostly plans Jamey & I had already discussed as possible options I should consider, but still plans. Other times, I feel guilty for feeling hopeful about those plans, for living without him. I’ve been told how blessed I am. I know that to be true. But it’s not like I wouldn’t trade my blessings for a chance to rewind my path & change directions if I could, but I can’t, and the last time God & I talked, earlier this morning, He wasn’t asking me for advice or any navigational tips. 

I know I most certainly didn’t choose to walk this path, & I’m just shuffling along as best as I can figure out how. Some days, heck some moments, are better than others. Some days, again truly some moments, I’m stronger than others, but it apparently is not yet my turn to pass through the veil, so I’m just keeping on, putting one foot in front of the other & seeing where I end up, but walking forward doesn’t mean I don’t ache or that I don’t still love. It means life keeps going, & so too must I, regardless of what my subconscious self is throwing at me. 

But I do think I’ll pause for a bit soon & tend to a bit of personal business. It’s time to prep that wicked & backstabbing subconscious of mine for upcoming sale. I envision my marketplace post sounding something like, ‘For Sale: One Twisted, but in “Good” Condition (you have to sugar coat things in sales, right?) Subconscious. All offers will be considered, because this one is no longer serving me or my heart ❤️‍🩹 well. 

😢

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Jamey and the Coat of Many Colors

So, backstory: I often told Jamey he was like a modern-day Joseph, as in Joseph and the coat of many colors. (If you are unfamiliar with the story of Joseph or want a refresher on the story, you can check out a synopsis here.)  Basically, Jamey was the last of four (not 12) boys, but unlike his three brothers before him, he was given the opportunity to attend not only a private high school, but a private undergraduate college too, his own little coat of many colors.  And while I don’t think he was braggadocios like Joseph, that just wasn’t who Jamey was at his core, he was always humble and modest, I was his wife, and not his brother, so I don’t know how it felt to be his brother during that time. But I do know for certain that they would have NEVER thrown him into a pit or sold him into slavery, though I do recall some good healthy, brotherly teasing during a particular toast 🥂 at our rehearsal dinner many moons ago.  

But the comparison didn’t stop there for me, for in my eyes, everything Jamey touched turned out well for him and with the most ah-mazing timing. For example, as soon as we moved into a new home that was a bit of stretch for us, he would get promoted right before our first mortgage payment was due and his raise would exactly equal the difference in our mortgage, and it didn’t just happen once, it happened all the time. He was brilliant and blessed, and it was evident, to me at least, that like Joseph, God was with Jamey.  (Genesis 39:2 “The Lord was with Joseph, and he became a successful man, and he was in the house of his Egyptian master.” 

Fast forward to today, and I still see this comparison, even in his death.  Because Joseph had so impressed the Pharaoh, he was promoted to a position of power and able to store up grain, saving the people in Egypt, and even his own family in Canaan from famine.  Now, obviously, Jamey was not much of a grain storer, (though I have come to realize he was a bit of a paper storer. I might even go so far as to call him a paper pack rat, as I have found project files dating from the early 2000s and then sentimental paper files filled with email correspondence and receipts from when he planned our 👰🤵 honeymoon. Confession, I too am keeping those particular paper files.) But by establishing the Hollingsworth Colorectal Cancer (CRC) Awareness Fund, he is saving people, not from famine, but from a totally preventable cancer, that if caught during early detection, can truly save lives. And so though knowing that doesn’t make the loss of my husband or our girl’s father, hurt any less, it does give me pause and remind me that despite my only child nature, Jamey’s sole purpose on this earth wasn’t about me.  😯 LOL!  Which also means that his loss isn’t really about me either, though losing him has irrevocably changed the trajectory of my life forever.  But I mean, if we think about it, none of us are meant to live on this earth for our own purpose, but for His purpose. 

We are all just characters in God’s story, and we are not even the main characters, we are minor characters moving the plot forward.  So, while I personally feel like a pretty sad and tragic character, and I cry at the slightest bit of reflection, I am honored that God chose my husband to save others.  And throughout Jamey’s fight against cancer and even after, I have had a countless number of friends and acquaintances, near and far, tell me that they scheduled their colonoscopy and had precancerous polyps removed all because they had read one of my Caring Bridge posts or even this blog, and were motivated to get screened.  How ah-mazing is that?!  So maybe, just maybe, God is choosing to use me and my verbosity for His purpose too.  Maybe, by me sharing our story, others will continue to be motivated to be screened, so other characters in His story don’t have to lose their life partner or father or friend or brother or uncle or son or colleague. 

And while I might consider myself a tragic character in this chapter of God’s story, I have to also consider it a privilege that He just might be using me for His purpose, and His purpose, while most definitly not the way I would have written this story, will be for good. I put my faith and trust in His word. “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” Jeremiah 29:11 

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Fall Planting 🍁 

Fall Planting 🍁 

     Yesterday I decided to spend part of a glorious Fall Day, my last Monday before returning to work, digging out my summer plants from my four deck hanging baskets that Jamey had gifted me several Mother’s Days ago and plant some Fall friendly beauties.  I don’t know why I have never actually done this before, but this weekend when a mom friend was telling me on the sidelines that is how she had spent her pre-soccer ⚽️ game time, I was at first like, “Why in the world would you do that now, when we are starting to have cool crisp mornings, weather clearly unfit for summer flowers?”  (Obviously, I missed this adult homemaking skill, likely because I did not grow up with my biological Gardner father and his green thumb 👍🏻 gene did not get passed down to me. In fact, I used to tell Jamey I could only keep so many things alive at once, and at the time, our young girls trumped our houseplants.  Well, they are teenagers now, and they are both a wee bit more self-sufficient, so I am “branching” out so to speak.)

     In the past, during this time of year I have simply doubled down, and being a nurturer by nature, I would just keep watering 👩‍🌾 and fertilizing and watering and fertilizing and trying to squeeze the last bit of life out my tired, sad little summer flowers 💐 all the way into 🎃October. A process that sucked the joy out of their remaining bit of photosynthesis and any pleasure I used to get from tending to them. Probably out of desperation to try and please me, they too kept literally hanging on in their hanging baskets, but they generally started to look like Halloween 👻 flowers, all withered and skeletal. 

     But yesterday, with my hands wrist deep in soil, the parallels to human life, and especially to the end of human life, were suddenly very apparent to me.  During Jamey’s last few weeks of life, the hospice team kept telling me “It was time,” and that I needed to let Jamey know it was O.K. to let go. At first, I didn’t listen to them.  He may have been in a hospital bed in the middle of our den, taking pain pills the very second the bottle said he could again, but he was still in there.  He was still enjoying Phish🐟🎶 concerts on tv, we were still talking and holding hands, and so I kept watering and fertilizing. But as the pain got worse (for both of us), and his lucidity started to fade, he was kind of like my withering summer flowers that I kept pushing to hang on.  To be honest, he was fighting the inevitable too, and so when I did muster up the strength to push words out of my mouth between my sobs telling him that though I loved him with my whole ❤️ heart, and that though things would never be as good without him, and that though I would miss him forever and ever, the girls and I would be o.k. and we would find our way, because he had loved us so well, so he could now let go and be at peace.  Out of the blue (also the name of his favorite restaurant in Ireland) he would come back to me and pat my head and tell me he wasn’t going anywhere. I think, like my tired summer flowers, he and I were trying so hard to hang on and please one another that it wasn’t until my aching and aging lower back sent me to my bed versus another night on our soft couch for the first time in 3 weeks, that he did let go and walk into the light. 

    The hospice team and friends have told me repeatedly that is how it often goes.  The dying often don’t want to pass with their primary caregiver at their side.  Why?  I don’t know.  But yesterday, as I stood on our deck with my new Fall cabbages and pansies at my feet, I was at first stupefied.  I didn’t know what to do with the struggling summer flowers taking up residence in my hanging baskets.  Should I replant them somewhere else in my yard???  How could I in good conscience tell these sweet flowers who had delighted me for four months that it was time to let go? As ridiculous as it sounds, I actually shed tears 😢 as I dug up my summer beauties, but as I did so, I saw how brittle their little plant bodies had become, and I was sure that letting them go was the humane thing to do.  They were never meant for Fall.  They had lived and flourished to their fullest, and they had brought me joy during a very dark and sad summer, but their time was over.  Like Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 states, “For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven.  A time to be born and a time to die.  A time to plant and a time to harvest…A time to mourn and a time to dance…”  The summer flowers had to go.  Replanting them elsewhere would have been cruel.  I needed to let them go as much as they needed me to dig them up.  And as for me and our girls, we are all three clearly in a time of mourning, but I do hope that one day we will all dance 🪩 again.  But for now, I am cognizant that God is in the process of not only pruning our family 2.0, but also our individual ❤️‍🩹 hearts, and I look forward to the day that we three are more fruitful and full with the growth that HE is planting in our hearts, but that day is not today. 

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Traveling 🧳 Light 

I’ve been counseled by another widow through a mutual friend that I need to make this “The Year of Yes.” (Not to be confused with the Shonda Rhimes book, though I read it, & it is fabulous!) I was told this advice was essential because I wouldn’t feel like doing anything for quite a while, but if I gave into those feelings of no, I would find myself even sadder and even more alone. 😢

Her advice has been a real compass to me as I navigate the dark & uncertain terrain of widowhood. 

  • Want to go for a walk?  Yes! 
  • Want to meet for lunch? Yes! 
  • Want to see some music? Yes! 

And so, when 4 of my best girlfriends strongly suggested that I could now join them on ‘the girls trip to Napa,’ because, sadly, I was no longer a “care-partner,” I said “Yes!” I cashed in on frequent flyer miles, & packed 2 heavy carry-ons. Heavy with the layers you need in Northern California & heavy with my own grief & tears. Was I looking forward to a big raging girl’s weekend? No. Did I worry I might be the wet blanket to everyone’s good time? Yes. Did I go anyway? Yes!

Honestly, I was waffling on this particular yes, but I realized that if you don’t invest in your friendships, you’ll lose your friendships, and I have learned that I need these women in my life.

Case in point: When @ 6:50 AM on Tuesday, July 19, I texted these ladies in our everyday group chat, “He’s gone.” I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that two of these women were in my house BEFORE the hospice nurse arrived 45 minutes later, & another one was in route from Atlanta, before the nurse started dissolving all the remaining Oxy in the house. In fact, when the nurse did arrive, she came up to me, still standing @ the foot of Jamey’s hospital bed stupefied & in shock, and told me she needed to speak with my mother. Me, not really comprehending what was being said, was just like, “Um, why do you need to speak to my mother?” It was one of these fierce ladies who interrupted & said, “She IS the mother!”

So, like I said, I need these women, so off I went to Cali. And while I admit I wasn’t really all that jazzed about the trip, it was sooooo, soooo good for me, and I am so, so glad I went.

Did I cry? Absolutely.

Did my heart hurt 💔 when I realized that I had no one to call or text to tell that I landed safely? For sure. Was it bittersweet to dine in an Iron Chef restaurant, a show that Jamey and I watched together since I was pregnant with Halli, Morimoto’s, in Napa, without even being able to tell Jamey about it? Oh my goodness, yes.

And it was even more bittersweet when through a series of uncanny events an old college roommate, not mine, turned Stage Manager to Bonnie herself, and unexpectedly gifted us four tickets to her show that night where she covered two John Prine songs that Jamey loved. (We 4 were also fans of the INXS cover she did, but that’s not really a part of this story. 😂) So yes, there was a lot of bitter, but there was also a lot of sweet. 

Namely the laughter, the blessed, sweet laughter! The laughter slipped in between all the things, all the raindrops, all the chilly temps on Sunday, & most definitely through the sunshine on Monday. And though I know I’ll grieve the loss of Jamey every day for the rest of my life, I was reminded on this trip, that there is still joy to be had in this 🌎world. And so though I picked up a few souvenirs & squished them into my bags, not only did they divinely feel lighter, so too did my heart. 

“The Lord is close to the broken-hearted & saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18

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Diagnosis Anniversary

A year ago today, my world 🌎 cracked and the sharp edge of cancer pierced me  straight to the core of my soul. A year ago today, the doctor called us back in for a consultation after having had an MRI @ 8:00 AM, a consultation we weren’t supposed to have for another five days. 

I remember driving down hwy 280 white knuckling the steering wheel, knowing the worst was about to come. I remember praying feverishly in my head for God to give me strength & perseverance to face what we feared the most, already knowing Jamey had a cancerous tumor, but not yet knowing the severity. I remember hearing the words “Stage 4,” “time to get your affairs in order, “a year to live.” (Side note: we only got another 10 months, not 12.)

I remember hearing someone wailing “No! This can’t be! I can’t live without Jamey.” I remember realizing the wailing was coming from me. Meanwhile Jamey, ever stoic, ever calm, literally even in the face of death, merely sat stupefied, & asked for some time to sit outside. Together we walked outside; we passed the fountains, the people, & he led us to a shady spot facing away from the hospital, away from the news. I sat behind Jamey & wrapped my arms and legs around him, head on his back, & just held him & weeped. He held my hands to his chest & said something to the effect that he just didn’t think it was his time yet. He didn’t feel ready. He couldn’t believe it was his time. Oh, but it wasn’t, yet still it was.  (Psalm 139:16b All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.”)

     I’d like to say that was the worst day of my life but it wasn’t, but it definitely ranks up there with many of the  horrible minutes, hours, days, and weeks to come. Days spent coaxing Jamey into taking the pain meds and then hours managing the Oxy hallucinations. Minutes spent watching Jamey literally crawl from the kitchen to our bed holding a barf bag after a procedure he insisted on coming home from as opposed to spending the night in the hospital. Time disconnecting him from the chemo pump or emptying & changing his colostomy bag. And while just typing out all that awfulness fills my eyes with tears, walking alongside Jamey during those dark & horrible hours was an honor & a privilege I would not trade. I’m thankful it was me. “…in sickness and in health, to death do us part.”

Now I tell our girls that one day, when they consider marrying ⛪️ someone, they need to make sure that their someone is not just handsome and fun, but someone whose character & soul speaks to theirs. They need to make sure that they love them truly and deeply, deeply enough to walk them to the light, if God calls them home.
(And of course there will be no marriage consideration unless all parties involved have had their colonoscopies. Kidding, not kidding. 😂)

But now, truly, I pity our girls, because I’m a much less stoic patient, & so when my time comes, since my person is gone, I will fall on their shoulders. And it will be up to them to walk me to the light. Fortunately they will at least have each other, & they will be able conquer & divide time with Mom. 😂😂

Lesson to all the parents: Be kind to your children, or it might be a lonely light walk.

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Who Am I Now?

Well friends, here is my 2nd attempt at a blog post.  We’ll see how it goes…😂 because truthfully, I am still figuring out how this whole ‘setting up your own blog space’ thing works, but that is just par for the course these days, as I am also still shamelessly figuring out a lot of other things too.  Namely, who am I?  

Who Am I Now?

I don’t know why that thought seems so elementary and profound to me all at the same time, but there it is.  I mean, I named this Blog space “Family 2.0”, because I immediately realized that we, as a family unit, needed to figure out who we were.  I quickly made the comparison that as a family, we were like any newly reorganized business team.  I understood and even explained to my girls that we would be going through the stages of team development: Forming, Storming, Norming, and Performing.  And that as such, we would have a few hiccups, and a few disagreements along the way, but that we would keep pressing on, and that we would, by the grace of God, emerge stronger and more resilient together. 💪🏼❤️

But for seem reason I didn’t expect to feel so lost myself.  Sad? 😢 Yes. But lost?  That was a surprise to me.  But I think it’s a valid place I find myself sitting.  Afterall, I have been Jamey’s girl for 22 years and his wife 💍 for almost as long.  (We had a fast and furious courtship & engagement. 💞 ) But who am I now???  I am not entirely sure.

Everyone tells me ‘Don’t make any major decisions for a year.’  But the last time I checked; the world hasn’t come to a sudden halt for anyone but me.  Life goes on, and decisions still need to be made.  For example, I contracted to have a tree 🌳 cut down recently, and I bemoaned to a girlfriend, that I felt like I was ignoring the good advice of waiting to make any major decisions for a year, but that I felt like the tree should come down, mainly because I just didn’t think I could manage having it FALL down.  I started justifying it to her, by telling her how Jamey and I had actually discussed whether we should invest in having the tree cut down in the past, because it was leaning over our house in a rather menacing way, blah, blah, blah.  She quickly shushed my justifications and reasoned that just because it FELT like a major decision to me, because it was the type of decision Jamey would have ultimately made, it was not actually all that major.  It was just part of my new role as CEO of our new Family 2.0, a role that I didn’t apply for, but was promoted to against my will, like Joshua was promoted after Moses passed on, a role, he too neither applied for nor wanted.  (At lease if he did, I missed that part in the scriptures.)  But decisions like that keep coming at me fast, just like a  Nationwide commercial. 

At this point you may be wondering, “Well in your limited amount of hindsight & reflection so far, do you think you are making the best decisions all the time?” And my response would be a hard no!  And to make matters worse, I so miss being able to talk to Jamey about my missteps and receive his wise counsel for future improvements.  For example, am I happy with the medical insurance I switched our family to after reviewing the 16 different possible plans I could have signed us up for?  H to the N!  But am I thankful that I get a do-over come Open Enrollment in October?  Yes 200%!  Have I learned something?  Yes!  Have I learned how to fix a disposal?  No!  Did I try?  Yes!  Do I love the new quilt I ordered to replace the comforter that had come to represent cancer and sickness to me?  Yes! Do my girls?  No!  LOL!  😂😂 

So, you see, I am most definitely a work in progress. I am having some successes, and I am finding many new opportunities for improvement.

So, I imagine it is going to take me a very long time to figure out who I am now.  And maybe the even bigger question is “Who do I want to be?”   I anticipate wrestling that one in the coming days, weeks, and months to come.  However, I am not totally lost at sea.  I do know who I still am at my core.  I am still a child of God.  I am still a mom to two beautiful girls and one precious fur baby (& maybe 2 fur babies come Spring.) I am still the woman who fulfilled her wedding vows to the best of her ability and loved Jamey to the bitter end & will forevermore.  And because of Jamey and Jamey’s love, I know I am stronger, more confident, (maybe sometimes with some misplaced confidence, lol) than I would be otherwise, but who Dany 2.0 is, is still undetermined.  🤷🏼‍♀️

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Hello friends,

Experiment

Welcome to my little experiment. Many have kindly shared with me that they really enjoyed following our story through the Caring Bridge site. Well, confession: Sharing our story on the Caring Bridge site was therapeutic for me as well. But now, six weeks post Jamey’s passing, we/I don’t really have a ‘fight against cancer’ story to share anymore. So, I thought my story was finished. Truthfully, in many ways, I kind of felt like I was finished. But a dear, dear friend suggested I write about grief, and share that with others.

Grief

But honestly, grief sucks. Grief is not sexy or fun, or anything that I would think that anyone would really care to read about it, so I am going to try to modify the subject just a bit. I am going to try to write about how we, as a newly revised and modified family of three, a family I have dubbed as “Family 2.0,” are moving through grief, and maybe growing through grief. And in my effort to get an A in Grief because that’s what motivates me: grades, accolades, and gold stars, I have been doing all the things. I’ve joined virtual grief groups, face-to-face grief groups. I have met with widows; I have listened to TedTalks about grief; I have read and listened to books on grief; I start my day with “griefy” biblical devotionals. I mean I have and am truly trying to do all the things, because I keep hearing that if you don’t do grief right, it only gets worse, and let me tell you, I can’t handle worse. This is about all the worse I can take.

Journaling

But one of the things that all those things keep echoing one another about is that they all suggest keeping a journal. Supposedly, keeping a journal might help you make your way to the other side of this hell hole. Well, the other side of awful is where I want to be so, ding, ding, ding: here I am, trying my hand at “blogging” my way through grief. I hope it helps; I hope I make it through, and I welcome anyone to follow along.