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Yesterday was a one month anniversary

Yesterday was a one month anniversary of my sister’s death.

I’m having a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that she is gone. I no longer can see her.
I still hear her voice in my head when she called me on the phone, “hi Shary.”
As if it was this morning when we had a phone call.
I haven’t talked to her for nearly a year, maybe not quite that long but close to it.
It was a nice call, one that I can remember with fond good feelings.
When we were younger our mother would call us, Kathy, Mary and Shary I guess because it was easy and it rhymed.
I was often called that.
It’s ok; my good friends call me Shary. Family members call me that too, professional workers know me as Sharon.
She called me that always. I don’t think she ever called me Sharon.
We were pretty close for many years, and we shared many times of hanging with each other.
I am dealing with the loss, slowly and easing into my mind the truth.
She is gone. I believe she went to Heaven for she was scared to go anywhere else.
I didn’t get to talk to her those last days but oh I prayed… and asked God to send her a few angels.
It’s hard when you don’t get to do closure. I am doing my best to deal with it.
It is not easy, to say good bye… when you can’t see the person.
Yesterday was a one month marker.
I am still sad, and focusing on who she was as a person, my sister and friend.

I have thought a lot about a question to ask myself

I have thought a lot about a question to ask myself.
Since my sister passed away; I have spent time thinking of life and death issues and those who we have lost in the last few years.
It made me think about, this question.
What would others say about me, should I leave early?
What would my story say to them and what would my legacy leave for them to remember?
It’s a very real question because we all have a following of some sort, and we all will leave someday.
Whether that be friends in real life; friends from church or other social groups, friends from on line, friends from our workplace.
What would they say, if interviewed about me and what was their impression?
I know in my sister’s case, she was funny, she was a survivor, she didn’t play weird head games, she was herself in the good, bad and in-between.
She was kind, she was not concerned about fancy houses or name brand cars.
She was a middle child always needing to fulfill the words spoken over her.
Not many believed in her, and not many felt she would go far in life, and in reality she didn’t.
She did care from a simple heart, and her letters and cards reveal to me, relationship.
What would others say, should I leave some day?
I don’t want them to say she loved her fancy home, I want them to say, we loved to go to her home and we felt comfortable.
I don’t want them to say she was the best cook ever, I want them to say, she served a nice meal and it was peaceful.
I don’t want them to say she kept her house spotless, I want them to say, she welcomed us, even in our ‘mess’.
The memory of who we are is so important; not only to those we love but also to those who watched us from the sidelines.
There is a cloud of ‘others’ watching and observing us always. What do they see?
Oh and of course my grand children. What oh what; would they say about this grandma?
I pray it be a legacy of faith, and of truth and of knowing that I believed in them and loved them.
I pray there is never a question for them, would I be there? of course I would do my best to be there for them if at all possible.
I have thought a lot about this question to ask myself; and I am going to do my best to change what needs to be changed for the good response.

When you can’t say good bye in person

When you can’t say good bye in person during the process of someone dying, it is a strange thing for your heart.
My sister passed away a few weeks ago.
I saw her about a year ago, I meant to go back and visit and never did, I called and talked to her on the phone.
Then she fell and hurt her hip, a crack or a break that lead to a hospital stay.
More care needed for her and then a move to a family members house.
I didn’t see her after that. I couldn’t.
It was a good bye that I didn’t know was coming.
We were close all our lives. I am shaken by her death, numb and then feeling the loss. Numb and then feeling.
Remembering so many times that we shared. Good times, sweet and funny times. And a few grumpy ones too, it wasn’t always perfect.
What does one do with a memory of memories? Can they be stored in your mind for future reference?
I think we tend to forget some things after time.
She was at times grumpy. When she was at our home in 2006 detoxing from a horrendous amount of alcohol, she wasn’t always nice.
I gave her grace, because even then she was dying.
She was medicated enough to help her brain heal. Her doctor helped a lot and we did the rest.
She lived and stayed healthy for years from 2006-2019 I guess that is a blessing.
There would be a moment in time her ‘nine’ lives would run out.
I would often tease her about her ever ready battery she plugged in at night.
She kept on going just like that ever ready bunny… till she couldn’t.
When you can’t say good bye in person you are forced to fill in the blanks by yourself and that is not often a good thing.
Your heart wants closure and you can’t find it.
I look at pictures and I remember.
I read letters and cards and remember.
Grief is like that. A room full of memories.
I have entered the room of grief and I will let myself stay there, off and on.
Then close the door gently till the next time I need to enter and sit.

Yesterday was Father’s day

Yesterday was Father’s day.
A day I often found as a ‘blank’ for years when I was growing up when I had no dad.
He left when I was young and the day on the calendar was kind of like a ‘sad’ reminder that he wasn’t around.
When I did finally find him in my thirties; it was still interesting for me since we had many years of healing to do.
He was a dad figure that was sort of a mystery to me. We did end up seeing each other within the viewpoints of questions and time.
I found some letters recently of conversations between us. He was not one for small talk or intimate matters of the heart.
That was ok once I learned that was who he was, and not to expect more.
We often get into trouble when we expect more from others based on what we thought we might need from them, rather than what they are comfortable with giving.
I learned dad and I were similar in personality, to a certain point.
When you don’t grow up with someone you have to fill in the blanks later and that is really hard to do.
I would have loved to have him walk me down the aisle when I got married.
I would have loved to have him hold my children and grandchildren, and show he cared.
Those moments never happened.
I believe he cared for his daughters, he just had a certain way of ‘not letting it be known.’
Instead, after many years apart, he remarried my mother and stayed married to her till they both passed away.
The story was full of a simple love between the two of them in their older senior years.
It was a different kind of story, it did bring healing on many levels. I didn’t have to guess where he was, anymore.
I would imagine there was healing and forgiveness between the two of them.
There was relationship and decision making between the two of them.
When it was time for them to move into more of a care setting as they aged, it became more clear to him, that she needed care that he could not give.
It was a choice based on need, not necessarily a heart decision for he was rather independent and didn’t like people in his ‘affairs’.
He passed away before she did. Perhaps he knew she would be cared for in that setting.
One would never know, he was very ill too.
Father’s day is different for me these days. My husband is a Father to our children and papa to our grand children.
My son is Father to his three boys.
Yesterday was Father’s day and I began the day worshipping the ‘Father’ in a spiritual setting called church.
It was good, it was healing and it always brings hope.

In the process of dealing with the loss of my sister

In the process of dealing with the loss of my sister; I looked up grief in the dictionary.
It gave no valuable word description.
I was quite surprised, there really wasn’t anything, at least nothing that matched what I am feeling.
The bible has a lot of different circumstances that speak of grief; the one I think gives most value is when Jesus sat on a hill and wept.
Two words, Jesus wept.
That’s really all one needs to hear, even Jesus in his Godliness also felt heavy hearted grief as a man.
I have been in my den today going through boxes of old letters and cards, I found some from my grandparents, who are now gone.
From my parents who are also gone and a lot of them from my sister. Hand written from the heart. Treasures to keep in special boxes.
I won’t get rid of these. They are voices from the past and memories from old times.
I have to admit I am sort of a pack rat keeping so many cards and letters; but in times like these they are valuable.
As I read them I was transported back into time, in a place where we shared something together.
Life can be pretty strange, one day we are here and the next we might not be.
I guess we must always be sure our words are full of grace and truth to others; so that when we leave there are no regrets.
My sister knew I cared deeply for her and we had a really good conversation the last time we talked.
I feel kind of like a part of me is missing as we were close and the loss is hard.
In the process of dealing with the loss of my sister I must give myself snippets of time, to mourn, to remember and then move on not ever forgetting.
She is still being honored, even now as I write about her.
Have you ever lost someone special? how did you handle it?

All it takes is one word to change your day

All it takes is one word to change your day for good or for not so good.
I thought the Fridays word prompt was; WORD
When I thought about it later it fit well into the season of time we were in.
By the end of the day I got news that my sister Mary had passed away.
One word changes it all. She is gone. It’s over. Final ending.
I am still in a sort of shock and I’m dealing with this news ever so slowly.
We were close for many years.
Growing up I was her rescuer; many times I helped her when she couldn’t do it alone.
In the 90’s I bribed her with a paid flight home, so she could visit with us and see our parents.
It was a good intentional thought with the hopes, that she would decide to come home from Arkansas and live here again.
She did, when she returned; she told her husband she was leaving and they arrived in Oregon; like the Beverly Hillbillies with every thing they owned in a truck and small trailer.
They soon found an apartment near my house and it was a great time of sister bonding again.
Later she moved to a nearby town and slowly became more ill.
I helped find her a doctor who believed in her and who was dedicated to helping her.
I fought hard, for her. The love we had was tight and I always advocated for her and her well being.
She had humor and kindness most of the time. The other times she struggled with a reality within herself.
Things were not perfect for her, she often struggled with addiction issues, and always smoked.
In 2006 she was placed under the care of hospice after I requested it, I said to her doctor “if she won’t go to him, can HE go to her?”
It worked well for several months and the diagnosis was a severely compromised liver.
During that time of her illness, her husband passed away.
She ended up at our home and we helped detox her from the intense alcohol that was in her system.
It was a major undertaking and I wrote about it in my blog several times; because what we did was amazing and noteworthy.
It was four of us, plus hospice and her doctor who believed in her.
She lived because we took time to help heal her, emotionally and physically.
This time around was different for her. This time on hospice was not going to end as well as the last time.
When I received word that she was gone. It was a sad moment for me.
My sister was gone. She was not going to get well.
Her journey was over. Her suffering ended. Her life was finally in peace.
Sometimes all it takes is one word… how we receive it, is a choice we make for a lifetime.
Later I found out the word prompt was WELL. Which also works for this writing.