Posted in Anxiety, Journey, Mom

Holding on tight and all the right means

I still approach each day with caution. I am still preparing for the relapse of the RA, but I am holding. By no means am I pain free, but I can manage better, with less of an effort and not as much struggle. I am alive vs just living and I am laser focused and dialed in on improving and continuing this path to healing. I am drinking a lot of Tart Cherry Juice and detoxifying teas. Mentally I have shed baggage and I am adjusting to my new life. I am doing better on the emotional front and the dark clouds have parted to give way to brighter days. Victory is around the corner. It’s been a battle and I have fought each year since 2018. The comeback has gotten harder and harder, with more and more time requirements and longer recovery periods needed. Pain has been a constant this summer, although I have always felt that the summer month are normally easier on me than winter. This was not the case this year and now, approaching winter all of a sudden I am getting better. It makes no sense and defies everything I thought I had learned about this autoimmune disease. Usually I can forecast storms and we had a decent one just the other day. I didn’t feel a thing. After the Mattress fiasco, I am finally sleeping better and here too, slight improvements are noted. Still not quite there yet and still waking up all kinds of hours throughout the night. As I said, nothing is perfect, yet, but every little change helps on the journey of bouncing back. I have to wear Men’s walking shoes due to the extra wide with I now require just to make sure nothing rubs and pinches while I walk that could cause more pain.

It’s amazing how much things move into the foreground and change after we have experienced them so differently for so long. Not being in pain so severely, every day has given me wings and a new appetite for life. Once again I look forward to things instead of dreading them and worrying about them. It’s like a beautiful day after the first freezes. We tend to see them in a new light of appreciation after we had to snuggle up by the heater and have experienced our first chill of the season. We know that these days are rare now, and we embrace them with added love and care. It was such a day just recently while taking Cinnamon out. It was sunny and mild with no wind, and life appeared intensified. I felt alive vs merely existing. I enjoyed going for a little drive. It was a beautiful day and a feeling of relief made itself noticeable in my belly. My breath went just a little deeper as usually and it was as if butterflies were dancing on the inside of me. A deep sigh and a smile appeared as I drove down the empty country road. Cinnamon was pressing her little body onto me, hanging out on the center console, and she too was smiling from ear to ear, tongue out, occasionally catching a whiff of something that entered through the rolled down car window.

It was earlier that day that I was talking to my cousin, soliciting her advice about booking a flight to Germany. I still had doubts, not trusting my health a 100%, although I don’t really want to put that energy out into the universe. I am getting better and I’m on the way to a full recovery, and that’s just that. So mote it be :). Perhaps I should say that I have entered what I see as a rehabilitation stage again. Only now that my days have become more stable, with more breaks in between the pain, can I attempt to work on getting my strength back and improve my endurance. I am walking more again and despite of limping by the end of our walk and having to remind Cinnamon to go slowly, I am doing it. I hope to continue. Instead of taking 3 pain pills at bedtime, I now take only one for a whole 24 hour time span. My goal is to the one into none.

By the end of our conversation I felt that we had arrived at a major decision when it comes to Germany. We decided that now was not the time to tackle this project but rather wait until early spring of next year. That some groundwork can be done now, but that it would be wiser to wait. Another burden fell off of me, but I realize that the work is just being delayed and I still think about the house daily, worrying. Time is of the essence and no further time can be wasted. It needs to be taken care of asap. I’m also dealing with things here right now, pressing things that require tending. It would be difficult to go and be so far away, unable to return if I needed to. But on the plus side, the United States is finally opening it’s borders again for international travel. No more uncertainty if I could make it back. In addition, the vaccination is behind me, despite of probably needing a booster shot once next year rolls around. We shall see.

Driving along the country road, I felt deep within me that it was the right choice to delay. I mean on a personal and health level and I can only pray the house is holding up a short while longer. I felt relieved to be honest. I didn’t think that I was ready physically and I wonder at times if my body went on strike on purpose as to ground me and force a period of rest. I will never know but it’s not the first time I have felt this way and it has happened before. Whatever it might be, the house remains my responsibility and I am blessed to have such an amazing support system in Germany helping me. I feel that now, hopefully I am on the mend when it comes to the health front. I have a better chance to prepare for Germany. To shop for a flight ahead of time, and be prepared mentally and physically. It’s going to be a hard time once more when I get there, filled with emotional stress of going through all belongings. But I also hope to find a balance as this responsibility and worry dissolves and no longer hangs over me like a dark cloud. At least this will be my outlook and how I will approach going on that big plane across the big pond the next time.

Posted in Death, Loss, Mom

There is no escape

Grief is powerful. Grief is love unexpressed. Grief impacts, grief changes us – forever and grief holds us in it’s iron grip.

It was the day of your Death anniversary. A dreaded day, one I try to prepare for every year now. Last year was the first time, a year of firsts, a year of birthdays and holidays without you. Maybe I thought it’ll get easier after that, but it didn’t. Maybe I was trying to fool myself into believing such a thing to breathe hope where hope no longer lives. Now into the second year, the pain was just as strong. I realize that it is something that I will live for the rest of my life and I will have to get used to it. It’s a hole that can’t be filled, a wound that will never heal.

September had just started, but right away I knew that this month would bring some painful memories. Memories that are just a little stronger than they are during every other month. It was the anniversary of your death that would trigger other dates and events, such as saying goodbye to you in the hospital lying in front of me in a closed casket. Such as the day when your cremation certificate arrived, stating in such a macabre way the location, date and time you were cremated. To the date your urn was put into the ground as we bit the final farewell. All dates are well remembered and seem so current despite of the two years that have passed since then. Dates that reach well into the middle of October.

It was the day before your anniversary and it was night time to be exact. I thought I had held it together pretty good so far, given that I had prepared all month for this day, feeling it’s pain on and off. In the evening, that night, a storm moved through bringing rain and high winds, just like it did the day of your funeral. I’ve always thought it was you getting in the last word, sending us a sign, us who stood there grieving you, already missing you so much. Now two years later you are still speaking to me. You show up as the wind, howling and descending rain drops onto my small tin roof. I actually felt comforted to know you with me, but I hardly slept that night. I tossed and turned and couldn’t get comfortable. In the morning I woke with a great deal of physical pain and swollen, inflamed limbs. Was it the barometric low of the storm, the lack of sleep, the stress of this time a year, I am not sure, but the pain stayed with me all day, leaving me exposed and more vulnerable than usual. It’s during that time I always feel more vulnerable.

I struggled through the day despite of trying so hard to distract myself and be ok. Who was I kidding? Did I really think I could be ok on a day like this? The afternoon came and I committed to self care and being gentle and understanding of myself. Giving my body a break where it needed to rest and being present in the moment with no particular thoughts. But I was uncomfortable and riddled by pain. I so badly want to believe, that pain is nothing more than a warning sign that I am not living in the space of my most authentic self, but while I believe it plays a huge role in it, I know it’s not all and it’s not that simple. Whatever the case and whether this is true, I can only be patient as I allow the things meant to be to fall into place.

Throughout this difficult time I felt most lovingly supported by loved ones, friends and family who all know that this is a hard day for me. I felt held, loved and understood. I was given space where I needed it and open arms to be embraced where it was all that could be done. Space was held for me in loving compassion and without any questions. And then it finally happened and the holding it together approach flew right out the door. The tears started to flow and a deep pain was acknowledged, heard and finally released. Was it the physical pain that finally led me to this point or was it simply time? I was alone just like I needed to be, but in that instance I felt so lonely. I felt left behind with no opportunity to express my love, although I know that we don’t always have to do this in the physical sense. Perhaps in a moment of rest, the goal to distract myself fell through and the truth of what’s inside my heart had to surface and come out. Whatever it might be, it doesn’t matter, but grief and missing a loved one continues on for yet another year and another thereafter until the end of time. And throughout it, I love and I miss you very much.

Posted in Mom, Self care

Remembering “YOU” and 10 ways to mother yourself

“Dead people receive more flowers than the living ones because regret is stronger than gratitude.” ~Anne Frank

September is always a tough month for me. It never used to be this way but it has been for the past two years. While it marks a time for Indian Summer, the last warm days of the year, it also marks a time of the darkness increasing over the light, the days becoming short, and life giving way to dormancy and a colder way of being. It marks a time of death, of falling leaves, leaving behind skeletons wrapped in bark. It’s a time of going inward, a time for regeneration, a time for rest, of gathering strengths for all the new that lies ahead.

For me it is also a time of remembering you, remembering just a little more than usual. Fact is that I remember you all the time and there is not a single day when you are not with me. You know my heart and how I feel and I think you came to comfort me the other night. The electronic typewriter kept flashing and blinking it’s lights while being stored away in it’s cubby and without anyone visible to touch it. Where you typing me a note Mom, was this your way of telling me that you’re here with me, that you are ok? It doesn’t take your death anniversary to celebrate your life and it’s hard to believe that it’s been two years that you have left this world. It’s been nearly the time I last stood at your grave before returning back to America. Despite the physical distance, my heart couldn’t have been any closer during the last two years. Today on the anniversary of your death I could write about all things that I miss about you, how much my life has changed since you’ve been gone, and how difficult the grieving process has been. I could write another tribute to you as I search my mind for words and things that haven’t been said yet. But it feels like a broken record, something I have said many times before and today I remember you a little different.

“We talk about them because we’re proud. We talk about them, because they deserve to be remembered. We talk about them, because even though they are not physically with us, they are never far from our mind. We talk about them, because they are part of us, a part that we could never ignore or disown. We talk about them because we love them still and always will. Forever. Nothing will ever change that. ~Scribbles & Crumbs

If you still have your Mom and parents around, consider yourself lucky. If you have a great relationship with your Mom, consider yourself even luckier. Chances are we all remember a thing or two our mother’s did that made us feel cared for in a way only a mother can make you feel. They say that the love of a Mother is unmatched, a one of a kind that goes to the end of this world and can’t be found anywhere else. Here are 10 ways and things you can do to gift yourself the care and comfort you might have known from your Mother, meeting yourself with the highest understanding, love and compassion.

1. Validate your feelings and emotions.

2. Pay attention to your needs and honor them.

3. Give yourself permission to be imperfect.

4. Offer yourself support and care during pain.

5. Notice all you’re already doing so, so well.

6. Delight in small moments of joy with yourself.

7. Be tender with your own heart.

8. Allow yourself to set and maintain Boundaries .

9. Affirm your own existence as a human being.

10. Remind yourself of your worth, over and over.

And in the end nothing can match YOU or replace any moment spent together. I love you and miss you. Still, always and until we meet again.

Posted in Mom, Moments, Spirit animals

A little visitor from heaven

It was Mom’s Birthday just the other day and as mentioned before that special day has changed a lot for me since her passing two years ago. Over the past two years it has turned into a time that brings up memories, but mostly the pain of her not being here anymore. It’s a day when her loss is just a little more apparent, and it cut’s just a little deeper than usually. A day that would cast a lingering cloud over my own birthday just one day after hers, and I found it hard to enjoy my own special day. I think it was in the days ahead that I prepared myself to feel this heartache all over again. I came to expect it, that it would unfold like it had in recent years. But this year was different and I had a little helper to distract me, my Cinnamon Girl. And then an unexpected visitor showed up and Mom came to play with her.

If you don’t know the story, it was only days after Mom passed that a dragonfly landed and sat on my hand in a serene park setting. Already believing in the signs of animal spirits I looked up the meaning and it was said that dragonflies assist our dearly departed on their flight to heaven. I was lost, hurt and sad, feeling the waves of Grief as I was working through my loss. I instantly knew that it was Mom, it was a sign from her to let me know that she was ok and at peace. I will never forget this powerful moment and it has stayed with me as a special occurrence and message from Mom.

We were out on a walk when a dragonfly, beautiful in black and white, a dancer between two worlds, between light and darkness came to visit us. Mom always had a special heart for animals, especially for dogs. Cinnamon was off leash, running through the meadows, head up into the sky, playing and chasing after something I couldn’t make out at first. I was too fixed on watching her enjoying herself, but then I saw it and it was a dragonfly. Again I knew right away that it was Mom and I smiled. She had come for her birthday to send another sign that she was ok. To lift my sorrows and sad feelings, and turn them into a joyful game of chase and dance. It couldn’t have been a better moment and I felt like I had received a great gift. And so did Mom by playing with my Cinnamon Girl. Fly high and happy Birthday Mom. Thank you for stopping by.

Posted in Celebration, Life, Mom

Birthday Week

Birthday week always leaves me a little uneasy and feeling blue. For many years Mom and I celebrated our Birthdays one day apart, hers on the 19th of July and mine on the 20th. I still hear her telling me that I should have hurried up coming into this world so we could have celebrated on the same day. In many ways it always felt like the same day, one (two) long day (s) rolled into one celebration.

Today it starts and it’s Mom’s birthday. It’s the second year since her passing and birthday week has not been the same since. It brings pains and sorrows, a love unexpressed although I talk to her often and she is aware of what’s in my heart. My own birthday has changed too, and I’m the one still here, the one left behind. A shadow lingers no matter how hard anyone tries to make it special. Sadness creeps up and the memories are still bittersweet. It’s hard to be happy and carefree, hard to enjoy your special day when you are still missing the one that used to be such a big part of that day. Perhaps it will always be this way, until the end of my time now.

I marked the picture above as one of my favorite pictures of Mom (on the left). It was taken in 2018, celebrating her birthday at her favorite medieval castle. She was already in a wheelchair but thanks to family and friends we made it possible to take her out of the nursing home for a special celebration. I wrote about it before but this picture has something else. Something exclusive to me. It was the look on Moms face when I look at this picture. Blame, anger, hard feelings towards me, disbelief, disgust, unworthiness, it all had vanished in that moment and transformed into love, forgiveness and gratefulness. I can see it in her face and it is a picture that speaks a thousand words to me. She never had to tell me and yet I knew how much that day meant to her. And because of it this day will forever be special to me and this picture will always be one of my favorites.

Happy Birthday Mom, I still miss you, my mind still talks to you, my heart still looks for you, but my soul knows that you are at peace and relieved from all pain.

Posted in Holidays, Love, Mom

Dear Mom – Heavenly Mother’s Day

Happy Mother’s Day in heaven. Today is the day that we celebrate and give thanks to all the wonderful things you do, just a little more than usual. For all the hard work, the love, and the sacrifices that go into making you so special and who you are. A mother. Today we reflect this love and show our appreciation for a special person like no other. You….

To be honest with you, I am struggling today and it’s an emotional one for me. Much is going on in my life right now. Add a thing like Mother’s Day and the emotions are quadrupled. Fact is, I miss you and no matter how much time passes, that empty void, that hole that is left behind from losing a loved one, just never fills again. Death and loss changes a person and it’s a pain that will be with you for the rest of your life.

Remembering you, I did things a little different this year. I can’t visit your grave, nor can I bring and place flowers for you there. But I don’t think that I need to be at that particular spot to honor you and to show my love and respect for you. You are with me in spirit wherever I am and that is not bound to being in Germany or at your place of rest.

I didn’t want to get a bouquet of flowers that wilts and dies without a trace in 7 days. I got a plant for you, dedicated to your memory and today, which will be around for some time to be enjoyed. Really what I wanted to do is plant a tree for you, but it will have to wait a little as I won’t have a permanent address for awhile. I want your tree to be wherever I see myself living out the rest of my life. You always loved purple and it was your favorite color. Seeing this little plant with it’s purple centers reminded me of you and I knew you’d like it.

Mom, there is not a day that goes by where you don’t cross my mind in some ways. It’s still hard to find the words sorting all the feelings, but even that I know that I don’t have to convey or try to explain. You can now see it all, even the things you struggled with seeing while you were still here in the physical. You now know my heart and you see the unconditional love it has always held for you.

I love you and miss you.

Posted in Death, Life, Mom

On this Day

Another anniversary, another painful memory. The last one in the cycle of one full year without you. Holiday, birthdays, special occasions, things have been different and surely not the same without you, Mom.

One year ago today, I carried you to your final resting place next to Dad. After many years you were finally reunited with who has always been the love of your life. It was a beautiful service and I remember it in a way as if only you and I were there. Everything was on auto pilot and I had my own pace. I didn’t hear or witnessed much around me, the things I worried about prior to the service merely fell to the wayside and lost their significance. None of it mattered in that time and in that place. Carrying you out of church, we almost lost all the proceeding people behind us, and gently I was asked to slow down to allow time for others to follow. I was in my own world. With you. This was hard. Setting you down on the side of the grave. Letting go. Of you, in the physical sense of relating to you in the urn I was carrying.

Today on the anniversary of your funeral, I remember that day and all the emotions that were felt on that day, the days prior, and the days that have come and gone. I am thinking about our beginning and the time when you carried me during your pregnancy. And I am thinking about the ending and me carrying you for the last time to rest for all eternity. I am thinking about your dash, the little line between the date you were born and the date you left us. How you lived your dash and all the times you were alive.

Today I howl with the wolves remembering you. May my heart always be kind and forgiving, never holding a grudge because of foolish pride or the ego. May my mind be fierce and aware. May I be conscious of all the special things, the miracles, and blessings that constantly surround us. May I never take life for granted and always make time for the people in my life. For I have learned over and over that I may not get the chance to do so another day. And may my spirit be brave in the face of adversity and never forget to get back up. May the warrior within me, like yours, never stop fighting and remain united in spirit, courage, and integrity….always.

Posted in Death, Mom

The day off….Numbness

The day off – September the 28th, the anniversary of Mom’s death. I dreaded this day, but now I’m not really sure why it gave me so much anxiety. Of course it’s a painful day for me, the anniversary of her leaving this world, but perhaps it was more of the unknown that had me up in arms. I didn’t know what I’d be thinking, or how I’d be feeling. Would everything change all of a sudden? Would I cry non stop? Did I want to be left alone? Would I be unapproachable?

It takes me by surprise to think that this was the reason, knowing that I usually don’t care about the unknown. Knowing that I usually go with the flow. I’m not one that needs to have everything under control and over the years I learned to roll with the punches as they appear. Maybe this one was a expected one, one that I saw coming. Perhaps it was something different all together and all I knew was that it was the anniversary of a terrible day in my life, a day that happened one year ago.

For days now I have had the most terrible tension in my neck and shoulders. You know the one that gives you headaches and makes life miserable. So bad in fact that I actually took a muscle relaxer because the pain got too intense. And I’m not a pill person and have a high threshold for pain. I prefer and much rather handle issues in a holistic manner, with essential oils, but it got so bad that I needed it to be gone or at least ease up a bit. Walking became painful and I even skipped my work out. I even exchanged the pillows in my bed for an extra firm version to add support. I guess I pleaded my case and have made myself believe that I needed to take this pill. And to be honest I didn’t even think clear enough for the use of a homemade remedy and just grabbed the pills. Ughhh…

Anyways, I felt better this morning and it paid off. I’m glad because I surely wasn’t going to take another. During my cup of Joe, I remembered a sweet lady I met during my walk yesterday. She was having a garage sale in the neighborhood, the annual neighborhood sale in my community, and yeah I missed it. I surely could have tried to sell some of things instead of just donating. A little extra money is always helpful, but as long as my stuff is finding a good home with someone less fortunate, I’m ok with that too.

I stopped to have a closer look at her sale. We got to chatting right away and actually had a lot in common. From crafting, to essential oils, from tarot cards, to energy healing and who knows what else. I ended up with a cute little bag full of beads for future projects. I had $5 to spend but she was so kind and generous, just throwing things in, not even charging me for it. Plus the bag had a dragonfly on it and I knew Mom was there, working her magic again. We talked about my crafts and the Etsy store and I promised to stop by and bring a business card.

This morning I did, armed with a pair of my handmade Austrian Crystal earrings I was going to gift her, and a few of my crafts for show and tell. I was relieved she loved the earrings and they complimented her outfit perfectly with the same color scheme. She also fell in love with one of felted bags and I ended up making a sale. Yay. Long story short she works in the insurance business and I ended up switching the homeowners insurance for the house and the vehicles. Per year a whopping savings of $1700. Crazy isn’t it? Who knew and I really gotten ripped off prior. Magical how things work out at times.

On my walk I found more feathers and two pennies from heaven, both from my parents I believe. They knew it was a tough day for me and I know they worked hard with their interventions on keeping me distracted throughout the day. It worked, mostly and if I had to describe how I felt, I’d say that I felt mainly numb. This day is just a reminder about a horrible day that happened in the past. It doesn’t really feel more painful than any other, and the pain is always here, throughout the year, on every other day. It doesn’t require an anniversary to feel more intense, and I’m not sure that it can be felt at a deeper level than it is already. It’s evening time now and I feel drained and tired. I feel exhausted to be honest and my stomach hurts from a little mass that seems to get bigger. I wonder if it is an ulcer (which would probably be the lesser of the evils) and after a little trouble this afternoon it seems triggered. I know I should have it checked but it will have to wait for now and faith will have to carry me until I can.

Thank you Mom and Dad for walking besides me today and for the special souls that reached out to me, in person or on this blog. It truly meant a lot to me and I’m blessed to be surrounded by you, the light in my days. 🙏🏼

I made Mom a bracelet (picture above). A dragonfly, a feather, and her first name initial. I will wear it from time to time I think.

Posted in Death, Life, Mom

Remembering you – A letter to Mom

Hello Mom,

It is a year that you left us. A year the dreaded phone call arrived, you know, the one I was so scared off, for so many years prior to actually receiving it. Maybe you never knew because we never talked about those kind of things. One year ago, your health declined for the worse and my flight was booked. Soon I’d be there to hold your hand, to give you courage, and a reason to go on, to fight with you the fight for your life like you had done so many times before.

I remember the last time you were this sick and then miraculously recovered against all odds. Afterwards I was joking with you, grateful, but also comparing you to a cat with nine lives. You yourself made fun about it, saying that you were jumping off the grim reapers shovel once more. But this would not be the case this time and it would be your last fight. On September the 28th it was confirmed in that very phone call. You had passed away and you were on your way of becoming an angel. I was too late, and the last time I saw you in person and said goodbye, was with a promise to be back soon, to do whatever I could to take you out of the nursing home and bring you back into your own four walls. It wasn’t a forever goodbye, such as a goodbye to your life, although every time I did leave always held the possibility that I’d never see you again. That thought itself was scary enough and always weighed heavily on me. I prayed, and I hoped, I believed, and I pushed it away, not wanting to think about it coming true. But it did and the inevitable call came.

Today I believe it had happen this way and I’m not sure if I could have been strong enough to sit next to you, saying my final goodbye, watching you take your last breath. I know that it would have broken me even more, maybe beyond the point of repair, and I know that this wasn’t what you wanted for me. Perhaps in your final hours you bestowed your biggest kindness towards me, going off towards the light in silence and alone. I know you weren’t afraid in the end and you were looking forward to reunite with Dad. You knew I would find a way to go on and not be haunted by those final images of you being in pain, finally letting go.

A year has past since you’ve been gone. A year of coming to some sort of acceptance as I wander through the streets of loneliness, missing you more than I could have ever imagined. A year of trying to celebrate holidays and special occasions without you, trying to make it through and holding it together somehow. Family traits and values passed down, remnants of YOU, a strong woman, tough and resilient, who and what you always resembled to me growing up. I would have failed you during your last hours and I wouldn’t have been able to hold it together.

The fact is that I don’t share those same views and I am not afraid to show my emotions. I don’t see them as a weakness and I don’t buy into upholding a front, a facade that hides and is made of steel. I am not afraid to say that it’s not the same without you, and that you cross my mind on most days. Special occasions such as your birthday have become times that are now harder than usual. Harder because they can’t be shared, harder because you are not here .

I find myself surrounded by the memory that is you and the time we did get to spend together. In the end you embraced me as your daughter and I think you even forgave me. You finally understood that me coming to the States was not at all to leave you behind, abandoned, and all alone. I was simply trying to live my life, to be responsible and strong, just like you, like you have raised me. How could I have realized the impact of such a decision.

Many dragonflies have sat with me this summer and my response is always a painful smile and a whisper that says “Hello Mom.” I know it is you and I remember how you came and sat on my hand shortly after your passing. I had just arrived in Germany and on a sunny fall day, you, a beautiful dragonfly, landed on my hand, sharing a couple of moments with me. I will never forget it, and I immediately knew you came to tell me that you were ok and made the transition to heaven. It was a message from you trying to put me at ease, lifting some of the burden and the pain I felt.

Mom, I don’t know how many times I have talked to you over the past year. Feeling that I never really got to say goodbye. Looking to understand, but never really feeling a sense of closure. You’re simply gone, no more, and it’s hard not being able to call you on the phone and hear your voice. Luckily you left me a few surprise videos, recording yourself by accident and a few times I’ve even managed to view a live picture and get a few seconds of footage, or a little video clip of you. Sometimes I even manage a smile. But most of the times it’s just torture and pain knowing you are gone. It’s a feeling of loss, a hole, something that can’t be filled and lives deep inside my heart. I know you are always with me and yet you are not. I know I love with the memories and although they are precious and priceless, sometimes they don’t seem enough and bring little to no comfort.

You have sent me so many feathers over the past year and I am sure it is because you see my pain. I know you are watching over me and perhaps it is for the first in a long time you are actually finding fulfillment to give me all your care and love. It was too hard for you to do in real life and I know you struggled with it. You just didn’t know how but I know it wasn’t because you didn’t care, but because of your own tough life and having to grow up way too early in a war. It was something you never learned and perhaps you have never received it yourself. Therefore you couldn’t pass it forward although it was something I needed above all from you.

I like to think that you are in a better place where there is no suffering and somehow I know this to be true. I am grateful you didn’t have to experience the current times, as I couldn’t imagine you in that home and me unable to see you.

I know that grief never ends, but it changes. It’s a passage, not a place to stay. Grief is not a sign of weakness, nor a lack of faith. It is the price of love and I have always loved you dearly. I miss you Mom.

Posted in Life, Mom, Moon

Full moon of summer

Picture taken from google

The final full moon of summer will rise in the sky tonight, on September 2nd. I am not camping under the elusive Moonlight this month, but I will celebrate this special time with a little drumming and starring at grandmother moon in awe and admiration.

It’s hard to believe, but summer is nearing it’s end and soon a crips autumn air will fill our lungs and prepare our land for father winter. One good thing is that the fires will cease and soon the devastation will be covered in snow, at least in some areas.

September like so many other months this year reminded me of Mom. The end of this month will mark her one year death anniversary and it already drives back the memories in full force. A whole year has passed and I still can’t wrap my head around it on most days. It gets tolerable on some and on others it’s still so new, especially on holidays and on special occasions. Sometimes I wonder how long and how frequent these waves of grief will find me. I imagine forever. But that’s another story and today we are talking about the full moon, the corn moon. With it, it brings much needed positivity and who isn’t ready for that. We could use a change right about now, couldn’t we? So hold on and take a look at the predictions and what is coming your way. The stars are aligned and grandmother moon has many blessings to offer us this month. As a matter of fact, I think it has a little something for everyone. So take your pick, smile at the moon and consider it done.

  • Real love is coming
  • Meditation will bring clarity
  • Transparency in relationships
  • Explosion of money
  • Healing on a cellular level
  • Psychic flashes
  • Better job opportunities

What would you pick and why?