Tag: death

Signs.

Today is the anniversary of my grandfather’s passing, 01/13/2012 – also a Friday the 13th. I miss him even more today than I did the day he left us – yes, that is possible.

As I sat at my desk, preparing to work, and flipped the page on my daily calendar, this faced me.

It’s a sign. It’s a reminder of what’s important in life. And I’m forever grateful that we were able to be with my grandfather as he transitioned on from this earthly life to his eternal resting place, surrounding him with love and care in his own bed, in his own home.

Tell your loved ones how you feel. think twice before sweating the small stuff or growing irritated by things that truly don’t matter when we look at the big picture. Be the person they need, and be tolerant of differences. Kindness and understanding are not to be underestimated.

Even the universe is remembering my grandfather on this solemn anniversary. What a gift he was, and how blessed I am. I feel his presence, and he is with me every day – in my heart, on my mind, through my choices and actions. We will forever ‘sing in the sunshine.’

Talking about the hard stuff.

There are subjects that many people, if not most, don’t want to talk about. They don’t even want to think about them, never mind discuss them.

It seems to be more common than not to avoid topics that evoke fear, worry or stress. We want to avoid things that cause us angst or pain, tucking it away in our minds and hoping that it miraculously figures itself out without our participation.

Continue reading “Talking about the hard stuff.”

Quote of the day.

In honor of my late grandmother, Jeanne Gray Kisker. I love and miss you every day, always. Happy birthday in heaven, Ma.

“The bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.”
—Anne Lamott

Forever a part of me.

In honor and memory of our dearest and closest friend, Barbara Leonardi. We love you.

I learned this morning what it was like to lose your best friend.

To awake to the hard, cold fact that you’ll never see her again. That you’ll never hear her voice on the other end of the receiver, with her warm greeting that we share, “Hello, my friend.”

Continue reading “Forever a part of me.”