When I was in 3rd grade, my father and I went on a “YMCA Indian Guides” camping trip with the rest of my “Tribe.” Yes, I am well aware that in today’s politically correct world a pasty white fat guy like me should not be using those terms, but I loved that organization, and I loved those trips. I was the youngest of four, and those trips meant rare one on one time for my dad and me.
Death comes, we have to let go
Our heart hurts, as it's breaking so...
Though we know our loved ones, have gone to a better peaceful place
Yet we cant stop the tears, streaming down our face.
♥♥♥♥♥ After the funeral was all over and done everyone went home and moved on,
after the funeral I couldn't move on, for me I was in denial you were gone
My life now is forever changed.
His presence in my life was everyday.
With memories and reminders that flash in my brain
For me it's a nightmare, from which I can't awake.
As a little girl like so many I lost a pet or two. My dad always prayed for the particular pet that he was about to bury he often buried my pets under their favorite trees or favorite laying place in the yard, where ever it may be.
The report "Helping All Who Are Exposed: A New View of Suicide Loss"*(www.slideshare.ne
( This was written 14 days after my sister's murder )
Disquieting Muses at the Grocery Store
If I rest, if I think inward, I go mad—Sylvia Plath
It was time to plan a future. The first year of widowhood was the hardest. The second year wasn't a piece of cake, but I felt a bit of joy at times and a little less pain.
