Widow's Voice: Speaking to the Ghost of Christmas Past

Widow's Voice: Speaking to the Ghost of Christmas Past: The day Phil died, my world was irrevocably changed. No amount of crying, wishing, or begging could switch my new reality back to the realit...

Christmas Again

December-how did you get here? Time unmeasurable, heart still broken, life unfathomable. Tears are always at the ready these December days. Dragging the tree up the stairs, tears. Ornaments unpacked, tears. Shopping, tears. Amazingly though, the world has colour. Glitter, sparkle, lovely melodies, lights, beauty. Tears make lovely colours around all the bright objects.

Doug, we love you forever and always.

Birthday #3 Without You

August 4-To Doug,

You would now be 59 years old! Weird at how I'm catching up to you, I'll be 55 and you died at 56. It was always Doug and Deb, Doug 4 years older, the first August birthday, then Tanis's, Ollie's, Channing's , Deb's. This year, we just let the day slip away. Delaney, missing Dad so so much, chose some beautiful Red lilies and we took them to the grave. You would really love the prairie view there, hope the deer come visit.

We spent a couple days at Wakaw Lake, and Delaney caught her first fish, thanks to Ryan and Dan. Dana told her Dad would be proud, and You would have loved the fishing, but not the 74 steps down to their dock!

Hmm, I start these writings with so much to say, and then so few words come out. Anyway, Happy birthday Dougie, we just miss you each and every day.

Father's Day #3 without Doug, and this one was tough. Cried more today than I have for a long time, tears for my kids and their kids. So sad for Delaney that at only 10, she has to deal with this every day, not just the special days. Sad for me for many reasons, nothing new there. So, we cried together, chatted about a few things, and then-went shopping! We even stopped for DQ Blizzards. SO glad this day is done.

Another Autumn Day

My brother-in-law Don wrote this story when I asked for some stories about Doug...

"If you've ever lived on the prairies, you will know the kind of day I'm talking about. Crisp, clean air. Not a cloud in the sky. Wear a sweater if you're out walking, but just a t-shirt if you're in the car as the sun beating through the window will make you feel like a meatball on top of a plate of pasta right off mama's stove.

Anyway...it was a nice day. JC beach (that is where this all takes place) is a municipal park. It has a mad-made lake, picnic areas, trees and gravel roads winding through the forest.

Now..to the story. First let me introduce the characters. There is Doug. He is the main character and without him I would not be telling you this story. There's Deb (Doug's main squeeze) who is probably reading this story to you. And the's Deb's friend, Julie. Okay..before we go any further, it must be said that Doug was not really a big fan of Julie. Not that Julie wasn't a nice person, but Julie could talk and talk. Julie could make a telephone solicitor hang up on her. But that wan't the real problem. The real problem was that wherever Deb was, Julie was. And Doug wanted to spend some time with Deb, without Julie. He had to discourage her from tagging along. But what could he do?

Enter Rick. Without Rick, this story would not be half as funny. Actually it would not be funny at all or make any sense.

Our story begins as Doug, Deb, and Julie are driving along a windy gravel road at JC Beach. Doug had a hot Camaro SS (this was a HOT car!). They are driving along, Julie is talking as usual and then...

Let me explain a few pertinent facts. In Saskatchewan at that time (early 70's) police cars and government cars could be identified by an "X" on the license plate. Rick;s father was a veterinarian for the government and, therefore, had a 4-door sedan with an "X" on the license plate. It looked just like a police ghost car.

Doug has arranged with Rick that he would park on a side road just barely hidden off the road, and that is what he did.

So...here come Doug, Deb and Julie chatting away. They pass Rick and he pulls out behind the. Doug looks in his rear view mirror and states that he thinks there is a cop behind the. Julie stops talking. Then Rick, the guy in the fake cop car, pulls out one of those flashing read lights that you can get from a safety supply shop and places it on the dash of his father's car.

Doug looks in the mirror again and states "*&@*! It is a cop!" and starts to speed up the Camaro. Julie is now freaking out.

After a few laps, Doug declares in a rather loud voice, "That's it!" and slams on the brakes.

Dust flying, Doug reaches into his glove box and pulls out a revolver. He jumps out of the car just as Rick pulls up in a cloud of dust from the gravel road. Doug aims the gun at Rick..."Bam".

And Julie? She is hysterical in the back seat. And then...she fainted. (Deb adds--Julie was dramatic!)

Doug's gun was an air pistol and only the sound was real.

Doug laughed, Rick laughed, Deb...well, you will have to ask her. And Julie? I don't think she ever tagged along again.

*This is the was the story was told to me by Doug himself. It might have been embellished a bit for effect, or perhaps the years have changed some of the true sequence of events and actual truths. I don't know. But knowing Doug...it sounds like something he would have don and every time I think about him, I can see his big grin as he stood there on that autumn day a long time ago.

IMPORTANT!!!!

Kids, this was a long time ago. DO NOT attempt this now! Fake guns, fake cops and fake car chases on sunny autumn days should only be performed by professionals.

Love,

Uncle Don.

Thanks Don...I'll share my version another time!

OK, we know...I am sad. So...b.o.r.i.n.g. Words say it many different ways, but really, that's it. So now for something completely different (I hate Monty Python), a story.

I was pregnant with Dana, and Auntie Judy decided she'd take David, age 2, to Yorkton for the weekend to see Granny and Grandpa. I was working, and can't remember what Doug was up to. At a family gathering (Mom and Dad S. ALWAYS had LOTS of family over for Sunday dinner) someone asked why Dave was with Auntie. His reply, mom's working and daddy's sleeping...life as observed by a 2 year old. Smart guy....

Spring is coming, a time of promise after a very long winter. Newness, rebirth, hope...words abound describing the changing seasons. What thoughts follow? The continued seasons of life that we all experience, expected yet individual ...never stopping or pausing . Yet I look in the mirror, and see old...grey, wrinkles, dark circles, weary. tears just below the surface, ready to leak out at unexpected moments. Where am I in this new season? Hopefully just slightly buried beneath this strange exterior, time for newness here, too.

Mandisa - Broken Hallelujah

With my love and my sadness
I come before You Lord
My heart’s in a thousand pieces
Maybe even more

Yet I trust in this moment
You’re with me somehow
And You’ve always been faithful
So Lord even now

When all that I can sing
Is a broken hallelujah
When my only offering
Is shattered praise

Still a song of adoration
Will rise up from these ruins
I will worship You and give You thanks
Even when my only praise
Is a broken hallelujah

Oh Father, You have given
Much more than I deserve
And I have felt Your hand of blessing
On me at every turn

How could I doubt Your goodness
Your wisdom, Your grace
So Lord hear my heart
In this painful place

Hallelujah
I lift my voice
Your Spirit moves
I raise my hands
I reach for You


A Broken Hallelujah - Madisa

I am so glad this week is coming to an end. I am drained, done, tired. All the past month my thoughts have been consumed with "this was the last time we did .." whatever it was such as going to church, going to Candle Lake during the Feb. break, snowmobiling with the kids, family supper, on and on. Now I can give that a rest for a bit...and give myself a rest. 2 years done, Delaney is now 10. We have made it this far, praise God for that. Despite us, life continues'; God is good.

Widow's Voice: We Scare the Hell Out of People

Widow's Voice: We Scare the Hell Out of People: "Widowed people are scary. Who knew? I’ve noticed it in the past 5 years and it took me a while to figure it out. Our tragedy makes people u..."

'Today I realized another new world where I belong. It is a world much larger than I ever anticipated. Some days, I am amazed and broken hearted that we are all here. It is the world of grief…and it crosses time zones and oceans. Through my writing, I have reached out to those I have never seen and they reach back to me. Through seeking out other’s words I have been linked to a world I never knew existed. It is a world where I feel less isolated and more connected. It is a world that I can access any time of day or night. It is the world where people share their most intimate thoughts and fears and make my loneliness melt away. I know they understand and I understand them. When my life is overwhelming, I can take a breath, go to my computer and find those who understand even though we’ve never met. Grief comes in all sorts, shapes and sizes. Grief can kill you if you are alone and not able to make connections with those who understand, those whose stories you can relate to, those whose words reach into your heart, bring your tears out and give you strength to try again tomorrow."

This is a paragraph from a blog post from Widow Island--

http://widowisland.wordpress.com/

It describes much of what has surprised me this past while---so many experiencing loss, able to connect through the internet. Wow, is all I have.

Wow, my blog world has expanded! This past week I have been moving from one widow blog to the next...not sure why I have not done this before! Really, now...there are so many experiencing this unwanted journey! I'll try to add links, but not now...another early morning "awake" time...boo.

I have been reading some eloquently written blogs by new widows. So expressive, but oh, so sad. It is true you feel absolutely alone at the beginning of this forever journey and it is amazing how similar the thoughts and writings are to each other, and to my own perceptions of almost 2 years ago. One thought, tho...and I would never share this with another "new " widow, is my surprise at how that feeling of loss and aloneness does not change in it's depth. Months of sadness-22.

Michael W. Smith - Ancient words

Three things happened today that I find so very interesting and worthy of pondering. First, Kerri Sperling spoke of her trip to Africa this fall, and finished with the thought that where we are is where the grass is greenest---flourish where we are planted for the moment is how I interpret her words (thanks Kerri, you are such a blessing to all who know you). Words, yes...but wait!

Next came the singing of the song Ancient Words by Michael W. Smith, posted here as well. During the singing, I could hear the bagpipes being played, in fact, I looked around to find them...but no, they were not physically in the church. Hmmm, pipes along with the words--truly meaningful to me. I love to think of the Bible as ancient words, not a mystery, but truly the wisdom from ages past. More pondering...and then...

Delaney has a friend over to play. As they look up some information on the computer, friend says to D..."You know the card we got at your dad's funeral? Well, I have one, and that means I won't forget your dad" and they laugh and carry on like kids, and I cry (I've been doing that a lot these days, not sure why, doesn't matter tho', I just do).

So, 3 things....flourish where we are planted now, look to the ancient words for wisdom and praise to God for those words, and appreciate where we are planted right now for Delaney's sake, as well as my own.

In keeping with my today's thoughts, pictures are going back up on the walls here, and more house decorating plans are in order. Happy 2011.

As I browse Blogger, I am reminded how serious blogging is to some out there, and I realize a blogger, I am not! When I write papers, I have to search for words--if I say it once, then I am done with the thought. Not like many speakers, who say the same thing over and over again, tho' they may repeat the thought in different words, kind of like preaching. I do notice my impatience with others when many of those vocal folk like to repeat what has already been said in their own words. ANNOYING! So, I see my thoughts of any particular day being like this---got up, had coffee, did this and that, and blah, blah, blah...See what I mean? Nothing to say, and really now, who cares what my day involved. So I am going to quit fretting about this blog, write when I feel the need, and not call myself a blogger. The question remains, tho'--now that I know I am not a blogger, what DO I want to be when I grow up?