FLM Friday

Forewarning, Really Long! Below is a letter to Mike I wrote and wanted to share. Might not flow or make sense but I wanted to include it all. Grief is messy and unpredictable and I am learning to just accept that. Take from it what you want and ignore the rest :) I found an incredible foundation called the Gwendolyn Strong Foundation with the slogan Never Give-up .


(Don't worry Graham was happier about the shirt than he appears here ,real life.)

I was touched by their story and ordered us some shirts , I let her know how we had just lost Mike and how encouraged we were by her mission . Because Mike always told the kids Never to give up and he never did. The mom, who lost her 7 year old daughter, mailed me a book with a personalized note saying how much it helped her through her grief.

I read the book, Permission to Mourn by Tom Zumba this week . He has a poem titled The unpredictability of Grief and I was blown away by his words that had described all I had been feeling and writing about. I encourage you to get the book or to go to their site for some inspiration. There are amazing people in this world who have endured , suffered , and come out on the other side doing amazing things. We need to bring light to these individuals and their stories. I am grateful for the hope they brought me this week.

We can Keep Swimming through Grief.

We can come out stronger.

If we allow it.

Dear Snookie,

It has been a really long( kinda like this email to you) and extremely unpredictable,

almost three months without you. But deep down I know it hasn’t been without you.

I should be used to the unpredictability of life by now.

We had gotten good at going with the flow , adapting to the unforeseen.

But doing it alone without your physical being , is a completely different story.

And I have struggled.

Struggled to find you with me in these unpredictable and confusing days of grief.

The unpredictability of grief. Is what has scared me the most.

The unpredictability of the strength of the grief waves.

The size of them.

And the magnitude of how they will knock me over each time.

Is so frightening.

Not to mention the not knowing the length of time it will take me to get back up.

They still feel like they are drowning me at times.

I asked a grief expert this week how long and how often will these waves will keep coming with this magnitude.

Her advice this week- I want you to let go of all expectations for yourself and just take each one when they come.

Feel them all.

That’s the only way through.

I know that.

But I hate missing you so bad.

I want you back, in flesh.

I do.


But you haven’t left me.

And I know that.

I am grateful for your love .

The love you keep sending me each day.

Some days I find it hard to find you.

Feel you.

Hear you.

Maybe because the kids are so dang loud ( they always tried to steal my attention from you 🙄 and still are )

And some days I can feel your love so strong that I can physically feel your arms grab me ,

wrap around me and hold me tight.

It’s an instant remedy when I do find it.

Love has always been our remedy.

And I don’t want those moments to end.

I pray for that feeling each day and night to come often.

I am finding you in the stillness.

The quiet.

But Unpredictable.

That is what grief is.

And that’s what scares the crap out of me.

It’s what held me captive at our home for more than two months since our last night together.

I feel safe at home in my sacred grief cave .

Where you are everywhere I look.

Where I am free to cry by myself as long as I wanted ( sort of - as long as the kids allow)

I was also afraid to go anywhere because I was afraid I was leaving you behind.

However , the kids would have never forgiven me , if I said no to going on our annual beach trip.

They are keeping me alive too ( and many others) .

Although , I also felt you telling me to go.

So we went and on the way I counted 136 number 29s on the drive.

I know I am crazy, they thought I was ridiculous too 😜 but I just kept announcing them all the way .

But I felt stronger with each one we passed.

And I let them eat candy like you did on road trips.

(Celia ALWAYS talks about the day me and you took her to cvs and let her buy whatever candy she wanted and drove around all afternoon eating it. Your only warning. Stop before your stomach starts to hurt. )

When we finally made it the kids ran straight to the ocean.

I took a picture of them playing in the ocean. And I immediately went to text it to you.

Sometimes this doesn’t feel real.

Like you are still here.

I forget you aren’t.

And so then and there on the shoreline ,

my aching heart took over ,

the waves knocked me down inside once again.

Yet I shared my sadness and missing you with my dad.

I cried.

You know I am use to going on vacations without you ,

you always had to stay and work 😜.

But I realized this unpredictability of grief right then.

When it hit me that I didn’t have you to call and checkin with.

Or send pictures of the kids to - no one loved getting pictures of them like you did.

I hadn’t prepared myself for this moment.

Hadn't seen it coming.

So I rode the wave of grief.

My dad and I conclude that the underlying current and the very deep bottom is just that we flat out miss you.

I have to keep going back to that deep flat bottom layer of sadness and missing you ,

to really find you

and each time I reach it ,

through countless tears,

you are healing me more and more.

But then.

Graham threw sand at us and I felt you tell me ,

it’s not whether you get knocked down by these waves ,

But whether or not you get back up.

As I looked out at the relentless waves that the kids kept getting back up in.

With a smile and laughter.

And so much joy.

I thought of how you always did this. Got back up. With a smile.

You taught them how to do that.

I taped your quote to the dash board of the car before we drove down

I will never forget how many times you got up for me. )