Permission to Mourn:

Joanie  Lundell & Casey

Honoring  one of  my friends
Who died of cancer in 2014.

Joanie died in 2014 and I have really been missing her.

I took this picture in her kitchen the day she 

Shaved her head!

She called on my cell. "Come over, quick," she said.

I was in the neighborhood running errands and hurried over.

The gate was unlocked and the sliding glass door open.

When I called out her name, she hesitated for only a second before she 

Jumped out, arms outstretched with a "Taaaa-daaaa!"

"What do you think?

 I'm a blonde!

And I'm gonna have fun with all of this!"

I was speechless and supported her courageous spirit.

You can see her Christmas tree in the background. 

It was always spectacular.  Once she kept it up all year long.

It was about living and loving always with that spirit. 

If she didn't pray for you....she probably hadn't met you. 

I have a committment to say the rosary on the 17th of each month. 

I remembered while we were at Shadowbrook 

In front of a big roaring fire having a drink...

And yes, using our fingers we prayed the Rosary.

May the Souls of the faithful departed,  rest in peace, amen.

PERMISSION TO MOURN

A new way to do grief by Tom Zuba 

Is a new book that I suggest reading.

The Final Send-off:

*****

As we get older seems to be fewer and fewer wedding and baby showers.
But, I attended two funerals this week.
We are supposed to "bury the dead"
We dress in black, give sympathy cards with memorials and bring food.
No one seems to be comfortable until they have  embraced the grieving family
And there is something peaceful and even humorous during the celebration of their life...
 Stories shared by those who loved them dearly.

I also think about all the other people who have died and the list is very long.
Sometimes I ask the question, "why?" because it doesn't make sense.
Life is a mystery...death is a mystery.

I have made new friend  and I have lost old ones.
I have listened to beautiful music
had my heart swell with compassion for the families.
Today I dropped into a deep sleep after arriving home
I drink  plenty of water.
 It is easy to become dehydrated.
Grief can be exhausing.

St. Joseph:

I attended a funeral today at St. Joseph's Church.
It so happens to be the feast day of St. Joseph.
A father died...a good father, a grand father, a husband.
It was truly a memorable celebration of his life.
(God Bless the Monte Family)

Three people I know have died this month.
It is wonderful that I know that these relationships don't end, they change.
 What's important to know, is that we don't know when we will move on...die.

This is a good time to mark a calendar, and add it to your to-do list
to pray to the Risen Christ! At least say "hi" once a day.
Don't wait until you are retired or on the senior side of things to recognize that
what we have is a gift and who it came from is our greatest gift.

St. Joseph, Pray for us. 

Mothers Reported Penn State Abuse:

      Today (November 14) I still think and write about self care around the shame and betrayal from people who were thought to be trustworthy at Penn State. Molestation is a crime of violence and power. I applaud the reporting made by the mothers to protect their children. I have written about my own attempts in discovery and protection.Penn State is another example of how it doesn't always work.                                  
     One of the best methods of self care for a mother's deep grief  is first to recognize it, drink more water to prevent dehydration, take about 20 minutes every day to be sad and angry and then go back to your normal routine. Don't dwell on it. Don't isolate, make a gratitude list. Be grateful for the basics of food, clothing and shelter, for good health and all the other positives in your life. Read it out loud...add one more thing...and one more thing...and one more thing! I prayed often. I had a sponsor, one person I talked to frequently and received the love and support I needed to get through this traumatic experience. Eventually you get a scab.

Watch a Sunset:

            Early this evening I watched a most gorgeous sunset.  Near me I observed sweet, well mannered and well dressed children of different races yell, "good-bye Sun," as the bright yellow ball sunk! They  were joyful and hummed the Sesame Street song as they were leaving. But in my experience...
     The setting sun with a muted darkness spread across the freeway and into my neighborhood conjuring up a level of grief and the anticipation of sadness, parting and the end of a day. I say good-bye to my adult child today and am filled with both gratitude and grief.  So, is this what you'd call good grief, Charlie Brown?