If it seems like a long time since I have been here to post, you are right. And I’ve missed sharing. I hope you missed my posts, because sharing with you is part of my healing journey.

This past Saturday, June 11, would have been our 28th anniversary. It seemed to be even more poignant because we were married at 3:00 on a Saturday. So, yeah . . . I sort of got stuck in the land of regrets, “if onlys . . .”, and just plain loneliness and sadness. I am sure you have been hauled back by grief to this spot a time or two as well. The good news from my end, however, is I seem to be doing better at getting myself unstuck and making my way back to the here and now. I am going to take that as progress! When grief is has taken me hostage, one of the ways I find my way back to reality is through writing, often inspired in the wee hours of the morning, usually between 3:30 and 4:30. Last weekend was no exception. I always feel lighter and at peace after I write, and I hope that by sharing my writing with you, I might provide a modicum of that peace for you as well, even if only for a brief minute. “Sharing is caring,” or so the saying goes, and I love to share with you.

Resetting My Compass

It's been 14 long months since you left us,
     and most people thing that's enough . . .
Enough time to forget, enough time to "get past."
     But it's not, because grieving is tough.

Grief, like love, respects no human timeline.
     It's not something that we can control.
It's an unwanted guest that I can't get to leave,
     and it's claimed a small piece of my soul.

Yes, I know that there's still life before me,
     that I must power through and go on.
But nothing's the same and I get so confused.
     I'm not sure who I am since you've gone.

So, I ask God to give me the courage and strength
     to know what He wants me to do,
now that I'm here in the world on my own,
     carving out a new life without you.

An Open Door

What should I do with my one precious life?
     Sit at home all alone and not try
to find a new meaning, a place in this world?
     Should I just wait for my turn to die?

I know that is not what you'd want me to do.
     There is so much of life still in store.
I need patience and trust to walk boldly ahead
     knowing God will soon open a door.

I know each of us has a reason we're here,
     though that's often quite hard to discern.
Sometimes it is something quite easy to see,
     but more often it's something we learn.

It may be next year, or it might be next week.
     Or, it just even might be tomorrow.
But I'll keep on going as long as it takes
     to find a way out of my sorrow.