Category: 2023

As we all know, memories of those we love are the most precious cargo we carry through life. From 2010-1015, I was blessed beyond anything I deserved to be the hospital teacher at a Children’s Hospital in the Central Valley of California. There, each day, I sat bedside with very sick children, teaching them cursive, spelling, and math in preparation for their return to school.

Hope. Determination. Fortitude. Love. Laughter. Faith. Acceptance.

The list of admirable qualities in my young students and friends remains endless. These children were warriors against the very diseases that robbed them of their lives.

In 5 years, I graduated 35 children to heaven. There, they play. Eternal recess until they hear the bell. When Mrs. Hurt arrives, it’ll be time for school again. What a perfectly delightful reunion it will be.

Alyssa was six when she died. It was over a holiday. I didn’t get to share one last goodbye. One last giggle. On her last game of hide and seek, she chose a place in which I couldn’t go to find her. Not just yet, anyway.

On the day about which this poem was written, another student had taken a turn for the worst. She lay in ICU, very, very ill. Lexie, 12, and Alyssa were besties. It was only natural for Alyssa’s mom, (destroyed from the loss of her only daughter), to visit Lexie’s family, (about to lose theirs).

I got the call on a Sunday.

Lexie was in ICU.

I wouldn’t miss another chance to say Goodbye. And so, I sped 45 miles on a Sunday afternoon to visit a student and a friend.

Lexie did return to 8th grade, which was her one desire in life. She did get to visit DisneyWorld in Florida. She did get to giggle many more days with her silly friends. Lexie didn’t get to make 14, passing away on an early spring day before the almond blossoms turned the world pink.

Grief. It comes in all ways to all people. One thing is for sure. The sweetest memories are worth carrying a lifetime.

Whatever you do today, give support and help to a mom you know. Mom’s are raising human beings the best way they know how. Smiles and hugs can help any mom make it through another day. And, Please send sweet prayer to my Alyssa and Lexie. They LOOOOOVVVVVEEEEDDDDD surprises.

More tomorrow.

JUST BY CHANCE — by Joy Hurt

We could’ve taken different elevators. 

I was going down.

You were going up.

I could’ve been late.

You could’ve broken a heel.

I could’ve decided not to come to ICU that weekend afternoon.

You could’ve taken a wrong turn to the bar.

A million little things might’ve prevented our meeting.

But

In a service elevator on that winter’s day,

Tunneled in a very large Children’s Hospital

We were together again.

Your precious Allyssa, now Heaven’s angel-girl, was there with us, too,

I’m sure I heard her giggle in that way she always did.

A toothless little sound exploding out of sheer happiness

When her world was going juuuussssssttttt right.

Alyssa was a child for which every day was JUUUUSSSSSSSTTTT right,

Even with cancer dragging her away from us.

My heart remembers her every day.

She was everything good and happy. 

An angel now, wearing the finest shade of pink, pink, pink wings.

Elevating two floors closer to heaven, I listened as you spoke to me,

Lifting me from the depths of worry for another of cancer’s children.

Lexie-Girl.

Trapped just this side of heaven in a very real hell here on earth.

There you were in beauty and strength.

My friend, an inspiration. 

Alyssa’s mom.

Helping others while healing yourself.

Enchantedly confused, I came out of the elevator to follow you,

Before I “snapped to” and remembered,

I could no longer follow you down our hall to her.

You went on to coffee.

I went on to help others struggling with their hospital journeys.

Later, we met again while visiting a common friend.

Happy angel giggles swirled in the wind just outside the window. 

We both smiled, knowing Alyssa was never good

At hide and seek.

For six years, she commanded center stage in life.

With throat swelling and eyes leaking,

I had to walk away.

Thoughts turning again to Sweet Miss 6,

My 1st grade hospital student,

Alyssa.

So lucky was I to have met someone like you, A.

I learned so much in our time together.

I will never forget you.

To infinity and beyond, Sweetie Pie.

I could’ve made a wrong turn

And

missed

YOU

all

together.

XOXOXO

More tomorrow.

Thursdays are always special. It was only last summer that Jesus took the wheel and drove me to a group of the best friends any woman could hope for. The Bible Babes. Since then, we have grown closer each week, sharing fears through tears, while receiving cheers from our dear friends. Each week has brought new challenges for each woman in the group. This week was no different.

Through the time spent together yesterday, one thing becomes clearer every week. We all suffer through similar trials throughout our lives. Some people have wins while some suffer losses. But, we all live through the very same problems. Be it marriage or our relationships with aging parents. Calamitous kids or devious neighbors. It seems that when one woman brings up a topic, the rest of us nod along remembering that very time the same problem was on our personal doorstep.

Our group of women range in age from younger to older. We range in size from Petite to Non- Petite. We are diverse in our race, culture, and backgrounds. But, when we walk through the door, we are equal. Each person plays a vital role as teacher.. We’ve all learned different lessons through life while learning new things every day.

Patience.

Kindness.

Understanding.

While praying for these things for ourselves, we find we can practice on others. What a blessing on days when the world seems to be closing in. Anxiety and fear can poison our thinking if watered with doubt, insecurity, and self loathing. Haven’t we all experienced times like that? What an absolute blessing to be with women that are wiser and more experienced on the days we need them to be so. There will come a time when the tables will be turned and the favor will be returned.

Today, as we sat around the table, the conversation was real and revealing. The best thing shared was the faith and knowledge that even the worst situations don’t last forever. That for every bitter word spoken to a loved one, there is also an opportunity for apologies and forgiveness. Until our last breath comes, there’s always another chance to try again.

Yesterday, we didn’t get to our regular Bible Study. The Chapter Quiz will wait until next week. There were real life issues to discuss. Real hurting hearts that needed the warm comfort of sisters that have been there and know. I’m so blessed to call these women “Friend” and “Sister”.

Remember, the following…..

Friendship describes a healthy relationships between two or more people. Healthy relationships contribute to mental health. A true friend tells you the truth, even when it’s hard to hear and even harder to say. They set healthy boundaries. Friends understand you, and if they don’t, they give it their best shot. Besties are loyal. They show up when you need them to and give you a little space when needed. Friends are priceless gifts in life. We should all be so lucky to have a handful of true friends in our lifetime. No finer riches are there in this world than a true friend.

As each Thursday morning ends, I think back to the day last summer that loneliness had me down for the count. Sitting at the kitchen table, I could do not more than cry and pray out loud for true friends, not really believing that God just happened to be listening in. Jesus took that wheel and drove me straight into their arms. How much richer my life is for having met them!

Whatever you do today, don’t settle for loneliness. Don’t look for a cave in which to hide. It may seem foreign, but try something new. Try a new sport. Maybe bowling or pickle ball. Go out for a walk in your neighborhood. Join a group. Call a friend. Get involved. It if feels weird, fake it until you make it. The world is full of new friends just waiting to say Hello! Don’t miss out.

Have a wonderful weekend. I’ll be back on Monday.

What a weekend it’s been. Days seem longer now that the time has changed. Here on the high desert plains, the snow has stopped. For now. The daytime temperatures are in the low 50’s. Pleasant. Except for the atmospheric rivers that are flowing right over the top of us. All of those things combine to make for high desert flash floods.

I’d only read about such things until a few days ago. When studying for my Nevada Driver’s License test last summer, I learned that as little as 6″ of water can cause you to lose control of your vehicle. Fast moving water doesn’t help. There are signs everywhere.

“Don’t Drown. Turn Around”

The meteorologists here have been warning everyone to prepare for the worst. In case you haven’t been following the snow pack in the Sierra Nevada’s, here’s the latest. Emerald Bay at Lake Tahoe has frozen over for the first time in decades. Yosemite National Park is closed indefinitely, perhaps until Spring 2024. Donner Pass has received at least 17′ of snow in the past month alone. The surrounding desert mountains where I live are covered in snow. At least they were until an atmospheric river came along.

Once you live in a remote area, you begin to understand that the roads are what they are. Some are gravel. Most are riddled with pot holes. But very few have flowing rivers raging over them. On Saturday, I traveled on one such road twice. The first time, there was no water on the road. None. It was early in the morning, but I would have noticed if 1/2 of the road was covered in water. It wasn’t.

Just an hour later, the entire road was under 3 – 4″ of water which was traveling downhill at a pretty good clip. Not just a small part of the road, but at least 100 yards. The atmospheric river and warmer temps had melted the snow pack on our desert mountains. This water was coming down the hills, hitting the high desert plains and gushing down the hill.

Due to some untimely construction on our local irrigation canal, the water had no where to go. My two favorite horses were each on their own little island as the water rushed past them. There were flashing lights and “Severe Flooding” signs warning everyone of the disaster. Thank goodness my neighborhood was built with a great drainage system. It’s the people on the little road that leads to my neighborhood that got hit pretty hard.

This is only the beginning. In Tahoe, the Raley’s Grocery Store has been closed due to fears that the roof may collapse. It’s one of the only large grocery stores in town. Ski resorts have closed due to the possibility of avalanches, and the fact that snow is burying the lift chairs. Unbelievable.

I plan to keep an eye out. I don’t own a canoe, but am thinking it might be the time to invest in one. Water wings, at the least. All this has made me aware of a need for emergency plans. One never knows when disaster will hit. There is only one main road in and out of my neighborhood. If that is washed away, it could be disasterous.

Every home should have a Go-Bag ready to grab and run. Birth certificates. Insurance documents. Perhaps a current back up of computer files. Some cash. Things you would need if trouble comes knocking. For detailed information on planning for disasters, go to Ready.gov. There you’ll find complete information on being ready for the unexpected.

Whatever you do today, check out the crazy weather over the Sierra Nevada’s, and other parts of the country. Then, remember to be grateful if you are living in an area that’s not under 17 feet of new snow. No flash floods in your area? Celebrate! Things could always be worse.

More tomorrow.

Would you know my name?
If I saw you in heaven
Would it be the same?
If I saw you in heaven

I must be strong
And carry on
‘Cause I know I don’t belong
Here in heaven

Would you hold my hand?
If I saw you in heaven
Would you help me stand?
If I saw you in heaven

I’ll find my way
Through night and day
‘Cause I know I just can’t stay
Here in heaven

Time can bring you down
Time can bend your knees
Time can break your heart
Have you begging please

Begging please

Beyond the door
There’s peace, I’m sure
And I know there’ll be no more
Tears in heaven

_{Eric Clapton}

Naomi represented so many different things to each of us. Youth. Beauty. Innocence. Wonder as she found her own way in a new life.

Naomi was just an independent 18-year-old girl going to work on an early March morning. She was kidnapped and then murdered on the lonely high desert plains of Northwest Nevada.

She loved rainbows and The Beach Boys. She had big dreams that she was working towards.

Rest In Peace, Naomi. Enjoy heaven’s rainbows. We’ll think of you every time one appears here on earth.

More tomorrow.

Winter is melting in early spring here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. March is such a strange time of year. Today, the temperatures should be in the 50’s, while the last of the storms passed last night. Winds over our little town were at least 39 mph.

Living on the desert, one must be prepared for the weather to change at a moments notice. The road was dry. In two hours, it was under water. By the end of the day, dry again. Winds whipped at 39 mph and then died down to nothing. There is never a dull moment around here.

As desert widow, I need to be tougher than I ever thought possible. Sometimes this can be difficult when the river of life is rushing by. When uncertainties gets me down, I remember the following thoughts inspired by “You Gotta Be” by Des’ree.

Listen as your day unfolds
Challenge what the future holds
Try and keep your head up to the sky
Stormy skies may cause you tears
Go ahead, release your fears

My, oh my, oh my.

Remember what your mother said
Read the books your father read
Try to solve the puzzles in your own sweet time
Some may have more cash than you
Others may take a different view

My, oh my, oh my.

Time asks no questions, it goes on without you
Leaving you behind if you can’t stand the pace
The world keeps on spinning
Can’t stop it if you try to
The best part is life’s mystery staring you right in the face

But Always Remember……..

You gotta be bad
You gotta be bold
You gotta be wiser

You gotta be hard
You gotta be tough
You gotta be stronger

You gotta be cool
You gotta be calm
You gotta stay together

All I know for sure is this…..

LOVE will save the day

Whatever you do today, find the strength to practice just a little more patience throughout your day. If the sun shines, go dance in it. If it’s raining, enjoy a cozy day inside. And, for you living in the Sierra Nevada’s, have faith. Spring is just days away, along with the thaw.

More tomorrow.

Today is the first day resembling spring in months. The sky is a brilliant blue and the air is crisp and clean. I’ve seen that the doves are back, looking for places to build the first nests of spring. It’s time for me to move the patio furniture back out of the barn and into place. Soon, it’ll be time for early evening barbeques and parties under the stars. Spring is such a lovely time of year.

Now, don’t get me wrong. This afternoon, while coming back from the Biggest Little City to the West, the river raced along the interstate at the very point of overflowing. With these nice days, the snow is melting quickly. Floods ARE coming. It’s just a matter of when and where. With any luck at all, the flooding will be directed to the vast desert playas. Heaven knows there are miles and miles of empty desert that won’t by hurt by flooding, not one little bit.

Spring weather is the best kind when one lives on the high desert plains. The mornings are crisp as they warm into beautiful spring afternoons and then turn into chilly evenings. It’s all about being in the sunshine. The gardens of Winterpast are still shaded most of the day so none of the tulips, daffodils, peonys, or iris are emerging yet. There’s plenty of time for spring blossoms before the heat will chase me indoors on most afternoons.

In a few weeks, sweatshirts and jeans will be exchanged for shorts, tees, a hat, and brown knees. Oh how I need to get some sun on my skin. I’ve turned freakishly white over the winter months. I can’t wait to get my tan on while working on the new fencing and garden boxes. It seems there ‘s a second Grieving Gardener that is looking forward to helping me groom Winterpast into the glorious showcase she’s meant to be. Thank goodness for MM.

I’m looking forward to the smell of fresh cut grass and bouquets of roses. Fresh desert air and the songs of the birds are something of which I never tire. It’s wonderful to enjoy the here and now in the peace that Winterpast offers me.

As for this little blog, I have big plans. They may become everything I ever dreamed possible, or they could amount to nothing at all. With suggestions from here and there, I’ve decided to give the blog an update. As I’m growing as a writer and as a woman, the blog needs to reflect those changes. Be looking for some really cool things in the future!

Whatever you do today, you might want to look out on your patio and see what changes you can make. It’s the time and season for a spring cleanup and spring fling! “While gardening, you just might find yourself while losing yourself” (Alice Sebold). Keep your snippers sharpened and your roses pruned. Keep Calm and garden on!

More tomorrow.

My Garden is my Sanctuary

As I look out to my garden
I feel a sense of pride
It really is a lovely room
Except it is outside

Where lovely things mix and match
And greenery fills the walls
The sound of trickling water
Coming from the gold fish pond

I love the sight of stones and rocks
And driftwood and tree ferns too
The sounds of all my chimes
I know you would like it too

With pride I walk around my garden
And savour each scent and smell
Colours of yellow, red and gold
Striped cushion on a bench

The bird bath has its own domain
It’s placed beside a wooden arch
Where all the birds come to bathe
And drink when they are parched

Ladybirds can hide away
Sometimes they come out to see
What’s happening around them
With caterpillars and the bees

There’s not much more that I can say
Except if you have your own
It won’t take long to build it up
Seeds will bloom once they are sown.

by Marie Church

I’m starting my weekend early by tending my garden. Even though things are still asleep, it’s time they wake up. While MM’s bulbs are already green and ready to bloom, the bulbs of Winterpast have other ideas. Today is the day for lots of work in the garden.

Whatever you plan this weekend, make it grand. Here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada, the town is talking about the Gala Spring Fling to be held this Saturday at The Old Barn. A good time it will be. Find something wonderful to doin your own town this weekend, and then do it. Make it wonderful.

I’ll be back Monday with lots to share.

This morning, the sun isn’t up yet. On this the first day of spring, a cold wet week is predicted. All this rain is getting a little old, I must admit. Today there are wind advisories for the nearby lake, with 2-3 foot waves expected. Today just might be the day I drive to picnic in a wind storm just to experience what 2-3′ waves on a desert lake.

With all the rain, pollen counts have been down. As soon as the rain stops, that’ll all change. I thought people moved to the high desert to avoid allergies. I guess not. The prominent culprits here are Mulberry. Ash, and Elm. With the addition of the high winds, sneezing will be on the rise. Without knowing if the cause is Covid or Influenza 1,2,3, or 4, other than driving to the lake in the truck, I plan to breathe fresh air in the back yard and plan.

More birds are moving into the gardens of Winterpast. There are little sparrows conversing with each other on the branches, while finches flit past, hurrying to nest in their little bird houses. The robins have been out every morning pecking through the grass, while two doves walked about on the patio, having made note that no cats live here.

The mustangs have been out and about, but few new foals haven’t dropped yet. There’s nothing cuter than a wild mustang foal. Nothing more hardy, either. They are up and traveling with the herd within a matter of hours after birth. These herds travel miles and miles each day, never stopping for very long. You can pass a herd while running an errand and they will be long gone when you return. The horses are thin after a hard winter. They’re waiting for the rains to stop just as much as we are.

Three years ago, life was very different for me. VST and I traveled to town with K and T for his liver biopsy. There was no thought of baby birds or springtime. VST slept on the way. The day’s procedure was the only way we’d know for sure what type of cancer he had. Without this information, we couldn’t be assigned an oncologist. With the beginning stages of Covid underway, only one person could join VST in the hospital. It would be me that would keep him company until his procedure.

The strength and love T and K brought with them every time they visited was tonic for VST. And, for me, too. He’d put on his best smiles just for them, Assuring them each time that he felt way too good to be really sick. He continued to tell us that until he no longer could speak. That was his story and he was sticking to it until the end.

Through all of this, VST had the strongest faith of anyone I’ve ever known. His belief in the healing power of God and the miracles of spring gave him his strength. He battled a cancer with an uncertain and scary outcome as if it was a February day in the vineyard. The dormant vineyard gave not a hint it would ever come alive again. Just as VST never gave up hope for the beautiful crop we knew we’d surely harvest in the fall, he also remained faithful that God wouldn’t give him more than he could handle. The results of his test ended the need for any other procedures. Stage 4 Cholangiocarcinoma.

Through the journey during our last weeks together, VST headed towards his new beginning. He never stopped celebrating life, even at his sickest. He never questioned his heavenly salvation or the hell that was his cancer. He simply lived every moment appreciating beauty in the smallest things. Even something as small as an ice cream cone. From that experience, I realize he could see his new life just around the corner. Bright and sunny, on the wings of angels, he’d ride into the glory of the heavens.

Winter is past. Spring is here. April. In this most beautiful month, something precious was stolen from me. In return, April always gives back so much in return. The hope for new life. April 9th, 2020 while being bankrupt in many respects, I began my own amazing new journey. Almost three years later, I’m standing in faith, much stronger, a little wiser, and resilient. With a deep faith in new beginnings, a third year starts. Life goes on, full of mysteries yet to unfold.

Whatever you do today, enjoy THIS day, the first of a beautiful spring. Look for the smallest miracles. They surround us all. Look at the new life and rejoice! It’s spring!

Finally!!!!!

More tomorrow.

Throughout life, there are sayings that stick with a person. Each generation has a special selection of these, which leave the youngers scratching their heads at the meaning. Almost like a secret code to another world, these phrases bring a smile and knowing to those that understand. They leave those that don’t get it confused.

Once upon a time, VST and I farmed in the Central Valley of California. On our ranch, there were 109 rows of vintage grapevines. Planted before 1936, these grapes were a variety lost t0 the ages. Their flavor and texture were of another time. They were not for shipping, for their skins were far too fragile. They were Thompson Seedless grapes, green in color. Not the huge grapes you find in the store, which are tricked into becoming that huge size with hormones. These were normal sized grapes, which when dried in the sun, turned into delicious Sun-maid Raisins.

For seventeen years, VST and I cared for our vines the best we could. We worked two full time jobs to support our little farming hobby. Forty acres is a lot of land to care for. One fourth of a section of land. If you ever walked down a vineyard row, picking up discarded thick wood removed during pruning, you begin to know how long the rows are. Especially if it is a cold, foggy Central Valley morning, when your irrigation boots get stuck in mud.

There you have another phrase. Stuck In The Mud. Until you have been, you don’t know. A terrible predicament. A Stick-In-The-Mud prefers their life to remain that way. Stuck in the mud. Horrible situation.

On our farm, there were 109 rows, most of them, very long, continuous rows, stretching from one side of the ranch to the other. Whether irrigating or shoveling, one would start at row 109 and work back towards the house, which seemed ever so far away. Hours later, you might be at row ninety-five, depending on what you were doing. Fixing wires that supported the grapes. Shoveling in gopher holes or cutting off shoots growing at the base of the stumps. Cutting down weeds or tying up tendrils. There was always something that needed doing.

Our house sat in the middle of rows 1 – 30-something. A nice square space in which our house was along with a big red barn and out buildings. This divided those rows into two sections which were named The Short Rows.

Every one of us would look across the vineyard toward the house wishing we were already there. Plodding along in the cold wet, or extreme heat, we moved at a snail’s pace. There was time to think and ponder the problems of the world. Time to wish we could win the lottery and never need to pick up a shovel again. Startled we were when we might scare up a quail or coyote. Always, we moved toward the house and the short rows.

Now, in life, I’m, working the short rows. No matter how I wish the date would zoom past April 8th, I plod along. Each day a little bit closer. There are more opportunities to sit and rest, but, I’m not done yet. The winter has worn me down. Emotional blisters are healing, but the heavy weight of widowhood still makes them sting a bit from time to time. I’ve discovered I can carry more than I thought I could. Looking back, I’m proud that I made it this far, turning into a stronger and more competent woman.

The best thing about the short rows, is that you could find rest at the house. There was a bathroom right there. Grabbing a cold water, you could sit under the shade of the patio and take a break. The breeze seemed a little stronger there, promising the job at hand was almost finished.

In life, there will always be another pass to be made. Another daunting experience in which you return to Row 109 and start all over again. So glad VST and I could experience farming and life together. Someday, he’ll be waiting for me at Row 1. Bring the lemonade, VST. I’ll be tired.

More tomorrow.

September 24, 2020, I began blogging without a clear goal. Yes, there were murky thoughts of completing a book. But that was all in “SOMEDAY” status. Each morning, I’d look up stats for my blog and remember squealing when ten readers appeared during the preceding 24 hours. There was only one constant. I wrote, every day, inching along with the encouragement provided by those first few readers.

Slowly, my readership increased, I remember the excitement I felt when I reached 50 readers. It was an amazing feeling. But, it didn’t meet a set goal. An un-aimed arrow always hits its target, they say. My arrow sailed gracefully through thin air hitting nothing.

After a few months, while watching my numbers continue to grow, I set a few goals and upon reaching them, said a little “Ya-Hooooo”. I continued writing.

In the last 24 hours, I’ve had 1,401 reads. My total number of readers is now over 534,000. Not shattering in the world of the internet, by any means. My past readers come from more than 80 countries and all 50 states. It’s time to set some real goals, so I know when to plant my flags. Slowly, I’ve climbed one mountain top after another.

When journeying through life, goals help us move along, rather like a tow strap. I can’t imagine not having daily, weekly, monthly, and annual goals, monitoring them for needed adjustments. It’s just the way I keep rolling forward.

Thinking about the future, I wonder when I’ll embrace the fact that I’m a published author. The blog is one milestone along my journey. But, when I close my eyes at night, I don’t yet believe I’m a true writer. So, what will it be? The first day my book is advertised on Amazon? My first sale? My first book signing? When I write my first very first book available in hardback, e-book, and audio versions? Will it be on the high desert of Northwestern Nevada, or from some tropical beach far away? All goals I need to choose. Until I do, I won’t know where to plant my flags, and they’re getting pretty heavy to carry along.

During the past three years, goals have helped me get through some tough days in the wilderness of widowhood. During April, 2020, I journaled hourly accomplishments while struggling to breathe. There were so many things needing to be done as I readied Oliver and I for our big move. I’d make a list of three things. When they were completed, I’d list three more. Without tiny goals, I wouldn’t have had things ready for the moving truck.

Tiny accomplishments grew into bigger ones. Journal-ing along the way left a bread crumb trail of memories. What a long, strange trip it’s been. One that none of us could’ve predicted, packing punches delivered one after the other. Each time the knock down blow was delivered, I regrouped and stood tall again. Here I am on the brink of returning to some sort of normal. Bruised, but standing.

I have a big flag to run up the pole on April 8th, 2023. Three years will have past since I lost VST. During those years, the journey’s been treacherous. Some days, the winds, rain, and snow have been blinding. Sand storms have caused me to hunker down until they ceased. Each storm left me stronger and more determined to move forward. That’s the point right?

Don’t.

Get.

Stuck.

In.

The

Mud.

I find the approach to each heaven-ersary a little more harrowing than all the last. No one can warn a grieving gardener about that for it’s an experience all its own, individual and unique to each person. Grief doesn’t go away, the experience just becomes more complex. While living a new life, old ghosts pop up out of no where. An entire adult life of memories doesn’t just grieve away easily.

This year my flag is huge, and reads “An Appeal to Heaven“. In these crazy times, we can all hope for someone to show us the way, following our leaders. We can try things we’ve heard might be helpful during a crisis. We can wait for stimulus checks, and new laws to lead us in the direction of someone else’s choosing. But, when all else fails, and hopefully before that, An Appeal to Heaven will show the way.

Pick milestones along your journey and remember to plant your flags. You need them flying high as a celebration of your accomplishments, and a sign to others behind you that things are improving with time. Above all, carry on and keep going forward because, there’s no going back.

More tomorrow.