My Journey Continues

Grief has a way of rebooting life.  In my case, it set my love life back thirteen years and that's been very hard for me to accept.  Fifteen years ago I was lost after my divorce.  I wanted to find the love of my life and had no idea how to go about it.  I hardly dated in my early years ,since I went from my first boyfriend at sixteen, to marriage by nineteen.  In my late thirties, I was alone for the first time since my teens.  I tried online dating services and after much angst and many one time dates, I met Dean three years later.  Dating to me was like a job and I hated it because it was so much work and very exhausting.  When Dean and I finally fell in love and merged seamlessly together, my life was heaven.  Not once during our entire relationship did I ever miss being single.  We both knew how lucky we were, and secretly reveled in our love knowing others did not have what we had found.  We did not take it for granted. G...

I have a good reason for being absent from blogging for a couple of weeks.  I traveled to Albuquerque, New Mexico on vacation with my best friend, Brenda.  After Dean passed away and upon my daughters diagnosis, I realized how fleeting life could be so I decided to compile a bucket list of items that I wanted to accomplish before I got kicked to the curb myself, so to speak. One of those adventures was to ride in a hot air balloon.  Probably not a big deal most of you say, but as I have aged, I slowly developed a fear of heights.  Its one of those phobias that appears out of no where for some reason and I deal with it as best I can.  My acrophobia bothers me most when I hike up a mountain, stand on a ladder or just trying to enjoy the view at the top of a high building, such as the space needle or empire state building. Needless to say, I was terrified the morning we were to float up into the New Mexico sky and in the first picture above you can see ...

I had bad news yesterday.  A man that worked for my company, Cedar Creek Contractors, died Friday night.  On September 30th, 2017 he was killed in a tragic motorcycle accident.  His name was Tom and he was only thirty five years old.  His motorcycle hit a guardrail and he was thrown over the handlebars and into the oncoming traffic.  Several cars were unable to avoid hitting him. I wonder what his last thoughts were?  Was he scared, numb or unconscious?  Did he see his life flash before his eyes?  I pray that he felt no pain. Coincidentally, it was exactly one year and six months from the day and approximate time Dean passed away.  It was a reminder to once again, live every day and moment as a gift from God.  I am still in disbelief and shock.  I just saw Tom Thursday night for a meeting with one of our clients, a large Property Management firm. He was going to help us with a substantial project we are supposed to start this ...

Today I want to express how grateful I am for so many things.  Its been hard to be positive in the sea of Cancer, Alzheimer (my mom recently diagnosed with) and grief.  Life continues like a speeding freight train when I feel like I'm standing stock still, watching it all go by in a blur. I truly believe that we have some intuition of why we are here on Earth and what our purpose is, even though we all get lost sometimes.  Everyone alive experiences life and is connected to each other in some way, but we are at different stages of our individual journeys.  Deans intuition to always take care of me, eased my transition into life without him. My husband and I did not have much when we met back in 2003.  We each had a small nest egg that we combined together in which we used to build our beautiful home.  As time went on, together we worked hard and created a nice comfortable life.  As cancer destroyed our savings for his healthcare, I didn't worry,...

I haven't posted for a few extra days.  It has been an emotional week for me.  I don't know why my feelings ebb and flow so strangely.  There is no rhyme or reason for when I get the blues.  When I have these affecting setbacks, I lose all motivation for work, writing and life.  The melancholy usually stays for an unwanted visit around five to seven days until I muster the energy to boot it out the door and get on with things. My daughter is struggling for her life.  Just typing that sentence makes my eyes well with tears.  It breaks my heart to see her so ill and her joy seems to be slipping away.  She is not who she was and I don't know if she will come back the same.  Cancer robs our innocence and wonder.  It strips excitement for future plans and dreams and makes daily living a thing to get through, until the fight, pain and worry are gone. But there is no set time with Cancer, and the battle seems never ending.  I hate t...

Every once in awhile, I start to feel suffocated with life.  The overwhelming sadness from Dean's passing, to my dad's death, my daughters illness and my mothers diagnosis weighs on my mind in layers.  The depth of this thickness drags my joy down and I lose my focus on what my purpose is all about.  When that happens, I make an appointment with my intuitive personal adviser, En-May.  I call her my medium.  She helps me get perspective on life in ways a licensed therapist cannot.  Maybe because she can see beyond the physical and hello...bonus....I get to talk to Dean. Anyway, I went to see her about a week ago feeling frustrated and lost after suffering some emotional setbacks.  Just as we started our session she told me, "I meditated on you this morning and I felt that you had lost your joy." I was astounded, because that is exactly why I had come to see her. She continued "I focused my positive, happy energy into a ball and sent it to y...

As far back as I can remember, I hated Sundays.  It meant from childhood that I had to go to school the next day, to as an adult, that I had to be ready to work for five more days.  The small excitement I felt every Friday that the weekend was here was gone.  Sundays meant my freedom was over and that the drudgery cycle started again of work, cleaning the house and bills.  Sunday's were a day to regroup, go grocery shopping, finish laundry and go to bed early.  It was the sacrifice day, all so I could organize myself with the illusion that I was in control of my time. Since Dean died, Sundays have an all new meaning. From the moment I first wake up, I miss my husband.  Sunday was my sleep in day and he usually woke up first.  As I transitioned from sleep to being cognizant, I could hear the sound of dishes being clinked in the kitchen, the smell of coffee and Dean scooping the dog food into a bowl for Cady.  The quiet movements of his activit...