flm fRIDAY aPRIL 29TH

Dear Fight Like Mike army,

Nancy sent me this post last week.

I loved the image of red flag seas.

During the week leading up to Easter,

I was living, yet again, in red flag seas.

Like the image says, waves of grief still come.

Just with more yellow flag days.

And I’ll even say green flag days.

Where you can swim freely

with no current fighting against you.

But the double reds,

They still come.

And maybe the entire day isn’t red.

Maybe just a few hours.

In those days I still try and be brave and fight the current.

Even though the flags say to stop.

To rest.

That the waves are too dangerous to swim in.

When I thought about this image.

I realized nature continues

to teach us to surrender.

When the waves are too strong,

Ii permits us to sit on the shore and rest.

And if you are with Celia,

she will have packed a complimentary snack bag

to help refuel you while you rest.

The flags give us permission to feel the depths of sadness

the depths of grief.

Permission to take a time out

and feel the strength of the waves

from the shore.

To allow others to care for you.

So the waves do not engulf you.

( maybe one day I will take my advice 😬)

I am grateful for the yellow and green flag days

that come more frequently.

I am also grateful

that red flag days will keep coming.

They are proof you have loved as deep as the sea.

They remind me of the greatest love gifted to me.

And I never want to forget.

I will always believe these

drowning waves are the sacrifice

for having loved.

I write many letters on my red flag days.

And as always it’s frightening to share and to be vulnerable.

But I think of Brene Brown’s words.

Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy, and creativity. It is the source of hope, empathy, accountability, and authenticity. If we want greater clarity in our purpose or deeper and more meaningful spiritual lives, vulnerability is the path.” – Brené Brown

So I share a red flag letter, with the prayer, that if you are missing your person, you know you are not alone.

Wednesday, April 27

Book day 54.

Dear you,

I saw this.

And I was given hope.

Oh, how I miss you physically.

It is lonely without you.

But I found comfort in these words.

That you are here.

That your love is here.

That our love can

and does,

still exist.

I feel it.

Not every day.

But on most days,

through the wind, the moon,

the sky, cardinals soaring.

Graham’s frog lip smile,

Jake’s broad shoulders and miniature waist,

and Celia’s great stubborn love.

They are proof our love existed.

And that makes me smile through the tears.

We once bought Graham this overpriced weighted blanket.

We were desperate and determined

to make him sleep in his room.

You wanted our room for us.

And I appreciate that now more than ever.

But my mom heart was torn

because he is as charming as you

and knows all the right things to say to make me melt.

We tried it all, including baby melatonin.

That of course knocked him out immediately.

Causing me to tuck him into our bed.

Keeping me awake, watching him like a hawk,

leaving me with another sleepless night.

I anxiously watched him believing I had drugged him

and at the same time watched you sleep,

equally as hard as him🙄

I miss you peacefully sleeping

through everything, next to me.

So the blanket was another attempt

and yet another backfired fail.

The first night he was all in

and sweetly tucked himself underneath it.

He fell asleep immediately.

We were hopeful.

Night two, however, as we lay in bed

we heard his sweet toddler voice,