kath

Paula,

It sounds like it was really wonderful. I'm glad the weather cooperated and all your friends were able to see why Tom loved this spot so much. It will continue to make the memory of this so much sweeter having people to recall it with.

Deborah,

I believe if we pray for signs and stay open for them, they will come to us. The problem is, they don't come when we want them, but rather when we need them. Don't lose hope. It will happen. And when they do, it is amazing.

Kath

Marsha,

The best thing about Bob and I was being in the same room and not having to say anything. For the first dozen plus years I insisted on conversation. But what a pleasure it was to just be together without words. It was the look, the touch, the relaxing comfort of his presence (and finishing each other's sentences when we did talk) that meant so much to me. If I had five minutes again, I would want to listen to what it is he has experienced these past two years. I believe he already knows what I have to say, because I filled our lives with daily reminders. So, I'd probably just stare, dumbstruck and in love all over again.

Kath

I had just returned from my aunt's funeral in Canada. Some of her children are spiritual, some are not. My aunt was and hoped her children would follow suit. This was on my computer from a friend. The strange thing is, my aunt loved tea cups. She collected them and gave them as gifts. Her husband was English, so they always had a special place in her heart and home. Of course, I had to pass this on to my cousins, but I have no doubt it came from Mary...

I'm A Little Tea Cup....

Love this story or not, you will not be able to have tea in a tea cup again without thinking of this.

There was a couple who took a trip to England to shop in a beautiful antique store to celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary.?

They both liked antiques and pottery, and especially teacups.?

Spotting an exceptional cup, they asked "May we see that?? We've never seen a cup quite so beautiful."

As the lady handed it to them, suddenly the teacup spoke.

"You don't understand. I have not always been a teacup.

There was a time when I was just a lump of red clay.

My master took me and rolled me pounded and patted me over and over and I yelled out,

"Don't do that." "I don't like it!" "Let me alone," but he only smiled, and gently said; "Not yet!"

Then WHAM! I was placed on a spinning wheel and suddenly I was spun around and around and around.

"Stop it! I'm getting so dizzy!? I'm going to be sick!", I screamed.

But the master only nodded and said, quietly; 'Not yet.'

He spun me and poked and prodded and bent me out of shape to suit himself and then he put me in the oven.

I never felt such heat. I yelled and knocked and pounded at the door.

"Help! Get me out of here!"

I could see him through the opening and I could read his lips as he shook his head from side to side, 'Not yet'.

When I thought I couldn't bear it another minute, the door opened.

He carefully took me out and put me on the shelf, and I began to cool.

Oh, that felt so good! "Ah, this is much better," I thought.

But, after I cooled he picked me up and he brushed and painted me all over.

The fumes were horrible. I thought I would gag.

'Oh, please, Stop it, Stop, I cried.

He only shook his head and said. 'Not yet!'.

Then suddenly he put me back in to the oven. Only it was not like the first one.

This was twice as hot and I just knew I would suffocate.

I begged. I pleaded. I screamed. I cried.

I was convinced I would never make it. I was ready to give up.

Just then the door opened and he took me out and again placed me on the shelf,

where I cooled and waited and waited, wondering "What's he going to do to me next?"

An hour later he handed me a mirror and said 'Look at yourself.'

And I did. I said, That's not me; that couldn't be me. It's beautiful.

I'm beautiful!!!

Quietly he spoke: "I want you to remember, then,' he said,

'I know it hurt to be rolled and pounded and patted,

but had I just left you alone, you'd have dried up.

I know it made you dizzy to spin around on the wheel, but if I had stopped, you would have crumbled.

I know it hurt and it was hot and disagreeable in the oven,

but if I hadn't put you there, you would have cracked.

I know the fumes were bad when I brushed and painted you all over,

but if I hadn't done that, you never would have hardened.

You would not have had any color in your life.

If I hadn't put you back in that second oven, you wouldn't have survived for long

because the hardness would not have held.

Now you are a finished product.

Now you are what I had in mind when I first began with you."

The moral of this story is this:

God knows what He's doing for each of us. He is the potter, and we are His clay.

He will mold us and make us and expose us to just enough pressures of just the right kinds

that we may be made into a flawless piece of work to fulfill His good, pleasing and perfect will.

So when life seems hard,

and you are being pounded and patted and pushed almost beyond endurance;

when your world seems to be spinning out of control;

when you feel like you are in a fiery furnace of trials;

when life seems to "stink", try this:

Brew a cup of your favorite tea

in your prettiest tea cup,

sit down and think on this story and then,

have a little talk with the Potter.

Dear Fredzgirl,

I was just at a funeral for my aunt over the weekend and saw my cousins ex that I hadn't seen for many years. I was telling him how Bob and I always enjoyed seeing him. He apologized about Bob and said that he just never knows what to say. I believe that is so true in most cases. A lot of my friends don't say anything because they don't want to say the wrong thing that will make me sad. Surprise...how do you "make" someone sad when they already are?

We don't really know, do we, until it happens to us. Some may never get it, but those that do may need that permission from you that it is okay, so keep talking. This seems to be the stage where address books are re-written. We tend to lose contact with those that are more willing to forget than recall the love that meant so much. Unfortunately, we have become experts and I feel it is up to us to teach those that just don't know what to say.

Kath

Dear Kay,

I don't know how I could have missed your post but...CONGRATULATIONS! You have done more to show us how to what I call LIFE AD (live in faith, even after death) and I can't think of anyone who deserves this happiness more than you. I am positively elated for you, my friend, and will watch for the reality TV version of "Arley and Me" to appear sometime soon. (I think dogs like ours need two loving parents!) All my best to you and Jim.

Love,

Kath

Thank you for your thoughts and prayers.

Kay, you and your uncle were the first ones that came to mind when I heard the sad news. Thanks for understanding my thoughts. If I said that to anyone here, they'd call for the straight jackets. We were able to get our passports on Monday. That in itself has been an answer to prayer. So, I'll leave on Thursday with my dad and two of my sisters. I am really glad I don't have to be the only driver. It's a days drive one way. My dad seems so fragile to me right now, though he puts on an act of steel. I had always thought longevity ran in their family, but he has lost 3 siblings before their 75th birthday.

It's most exhausting arranging the kids schedules as they are so incredibly busy this week/weekend. Luckily, I am leaving them in good hands. I usually worry that I need to "hold it together" when at a funeral so I can be supportive to the immediate family. This one is going to be all out wailing. All I can say is, she joins a heck of a lot of fantastic people.

My aunt was found dead this morning from a heart attack. She lives in Canada and I am trying to arrange for my dad and I to cross the border without a passport so he can attend his sister's funeral. This is so hard for all of us because she was so special to every one of my siblings. She was our favorite, though she liked to be called "Great." Her husband died a year before mine, so her advice was invaluable to me. From the start, she said to make myself go out...accept invitations even when I didn't want to. She did just that very thing and was always surrounded by loving friends and family. I'm a little jealous that she can be with my uncle so soon after his death. I can't say that to anyone, and it feels wrong to even think about. Please keep my family in your prayers.

Kath

Dear Deborah,

I wondered, too, if at six months life could ever be better. After carrying the heartache and sadness for so long and recognizing the lonliness as my certain future, made this time one of the most difficult. Somewhere in this forum I read that the worst grief is the one that happens to you. I think it's the same with holidays. The worst holiday is the one you have to face next. I try not to project too much, but rather give yourself credit for getting through the ones you have. You have made it through six difficult months. That is a huge accomplishment. Like Carrieboo said, it does get better. It's never the same, but the thought of our loved one brings comfort instead of ache. That is not to say we don't have bad moments or days or even weeks, because some things still need to be worked through. It is a hard journey, for sure.

I've shared this here before, but it's been awhile and this was really the turning point in my journey...I had asked my befriender (the person "assigned" by my church to talk with me on a regular basis) if I would always be this sad. The weight of sadness was exhausting. I told her I used to be funny and wondered if I could ever be funny again. Her response, without missing a beat was, "I know a lot of crabby people that have lost their spouse, and...they are still crabby." I laughed so hard for the first time hearing that. It became my mantra! It gave me hope. At that time there was nothing I needed more than hope and that is what I read in your topic. Is there hope? Hang in there, my friend. There are better days ahead.

Love,

Kath

Thank you, all, for your well wishes. My back is doing better. I have an extremely busy week with sports consuming most nights. My boss was kind enough to let me leave early to get to my daughter's games. So, I feel very blessed to have superiors that understand my priorities. Now, I just need to sit less, walk more, not slouch and get some rest. I hope you, too, can find blessings in your days. (And Boo, if I could trust my dog to not eat the bed, the headboard, dressers, myself, etc., I would even welcome her warm shagginess in my space.)

Love,

Kath

Dear Carrieboo,

I understand what you mean when it feels like the newness wears off. For me, it's like settling into a routine that I don't really want to be in. I'm here, doing all that "needs" to be done, yet there is still that emptiness that can't be filled, because our loved one left that hole in our hearts however long ago. I wonder if this is the new normal. The sadness seems to lay there, just beneath the surface, until a bit of comfort sets in, then it erupts, making certain that nothing is really too comfortable.

You sound like you are under a lot of stress right now. Be patient as you finish up your thesis (an accomplishment I greatly admire, by the way) and find something special to treat yourself. When's the last time you bought yourself some flowers? Quite often I find myself praying for contentment. It seems like a little thing to ask, but the rewards are great...to be happy with what is instead of what it is I think I want.

I'm sorry for the loss of your baby. That would certainly bring about a great feeling of loss all over again. Please know we are holding you in thought as you try to deal with it all.

Love,

Kath

"Some tears are sadness and some are joy for having known someone who wrapped his arms around my soul."

That is spoken so beautifully. We've talked about it here before, is it better to have known this kind of love or not at all? In your sentence, I would have to say having experienced that, even during this time of great pain, is a million times better than not at all.

Wishing you peace,

Kath

Dear Mandi,

I am sorry for your loss. You are in good company here. The pain and confusion can be overwhelming. Allow us to help whenever possible. We care deeply.

Kath

Dear Susie,

I, too, am very sorry for your loss. As others have said, this is very exhausting and it is so important that you take good care of yourself right now. It is always so hard to see a new person join this site, because it brings back those initial feelings of twisted heartache and gut wrenching despair. What helps is talking about your spouse. All those that have advice may have good intentions and want to help, but unless they have traveled this road, it is difficult to fully understand. Please talk here when you are ready. Until then, know that we send you very heartfelt hugs.

Kath

Shelley,

I will be praying for a safe surgery and speedy recovery. It is really scary thinking about facing these things alone, so I do hope you take people up on their offer to help. It isn't an easy thing to do, but it is so necessary. I was always worried about who would take care of me when I became ill and when I came down with a whopper of a cold, a new friend, someone I had just met since Bob's death, brought soup and tissues, honey and tea. It was just that little kind gesture that made all the difference. Being consumed with grief made me feel more totally alone. I think people wanted to help (at least early on) but didn't want to intrude and sort of waited to be asked. This was the ideal time to allow them to help. I've always been a believer that God puts people in our path for a reason. None of this is by accident. All of you here, help me more than you could imagine. Asking for help means humbling ourselves. At this time in our lives, we've been extremely humbled due to our losses. It is an ideal time to be brave enought to reach out. When we are stronger, we will always have the opportunity to return the favor.

Best of luck and goodness to you,

Kath

I don't think you are crazy or obsessed.

Loving, loyal, caring, supportive, patient?

Yes...all of the above.

My back has been really bothering me this week and I know it is usually stress related, so I keep stretching and remind myself to breathe. All I could think of last night was how Bob would snuggle up with his big ole belly against my back and drop one arm around my waist and by morning I would feel great. How I miss that belly! It was the best heating pad there ever was.

Mel,

I know this is a very sad day for you. I hope you have people around you that can help you recall the cherished moments or provide a shoulder to cry on. You are in my prayers.

Kath

Dee Gee,

I had read an article a while back about cancer patients. The Dr. said there is peace that comes in the final stages of their illness. I know Bob had that peace. He wasn't afraid at all. To me it was like he was protected from what was to come. So maybe, what our human minds see as an unwillingness to talk about, was really something they didn't even think about.

Months earlier, Bob had some strange dreams. He said all his family (that had passed away) were there, smiling, happy. We didn't think anything of it at the time, but now I imagine that they are all safe, and close to us.

It's sort of strange to think about all these questions and uncertainties we are left with. By the time we can get the answers, it won't really matter, because we'll be back together with them again...forever.

Kath

DeeGee,

This is a tough topic and probably the one that left me with the most guilt, also. I had been worried about Bob for a while. He seemed in constant pain and bled from his mouth whenever he slept (which was a lot.) I didn't go to his early Drs. appointments, but constantly reminded him to ask the Drs. about it. He never did. One day he said that he felt like he was dying. I made him go back to his Dr. The follow up appointments were pushed out or forgotten so by the time he was seen again, he was seriously ill. His only comment when I asked him to talk about the possibility of death was, "I'm not done here, yet. I still have to make C's shelves." He had never been afraid of dying since the time he nearly severed his hand and went into shock. At that time he went to the light and he said it was the calmest, most beautiful feeling he'd ever had, but was told to come back. It wasn't his time. I was terribly lonely during his illness, because he was so private, I wasn't allowed to talk about it with anyone. I would cry at night, lying next to him, fearful of what could happen. I was worried, exhausted from taking care of him, the kids, and our old dog while working full-time.

I would secretly call his older brother for advice, because I was scared of losing him. He said not to worry. By the time he was put on disability leave from work, he went downhill within a month. Each day was something new and awful. I got most of my information off the internet about his illness, as his own Drs. were very vague and I was afraid to bring it up...his timeline. They were the ones that kept telling me he wasn't sick enough to be seen for a transplant. They made it seem like this could go on for years. I held onto hope even his last week which was spent in the hospital. The day he was to be put on the transplant list was the day he went into septic shock, just after I left the hospital.

There was one time during his disability when we talked about a reknown hospital that his brother wanted him seen at. It was a long ways from here, insurance wouldn't have covered it, and with two children, I didn't know how I could manage having him there. He seemed a little miffed that I didn't pursue it, but he didn't mention it again. I talked about how I regretted this with another of his brothers months after Bob died. He had been in contact with the famous hospital and they didn't think anything more could be done. It seems everyone knew, including him, that his time here was to be cut short. I refused to believe it. In fact, that final day, when I came home and gathered up the kids, we cheered, Dad had made "the list." He would get better soon. Within a half hour, that all turned.

I think we try to put on a positive face, out of love, for our spouses. I know I left it up to him to talk about his fears. I was always there for him, watching, praying. I couldn't give into my own doubts because it was so painful, I didn't want him to worry more. I wanted all his energy to go towards his healing. It takes time, but guilt eventually leads to forgiveness. Somewhere along the line, I think I even experienced acceptance, although all these things sort of weave in and out on a daily basis.

PS...The first thing I did in my widowness, was build those shelves for my daughter. I had a very strong need to finish his projects.

Kath

Boo,

Thank you for sharing this. I feel like I know Cliff (and you) a little better. He sounds absolutely wonderful and how fortunate that you were able to have someone so special take you for his wife. I can see how you were a match made in heaven. Hold onto your mantra. (I thought that was pretty fantastic, too.)

Kath

I'm not certain this is the appropriate place to post this, but I am still revelling in the really good day I had on Sunday. I had promised the kids I'd take them to the MN Renaissance Festival because we didn't do anything special over their summer vacation. It was Pet Fest Weekend and Irish Festival (two of my favorite things) so we had planned on making the outing with Sassie (my 7 month old collie) as well. I wasn't too sure how she would handle the huge crowds and the hundreds of other dogs and cats, but we ventured out anyway. We had the time of our lives. Sassie was so well behaved and had so many things to keep her interested. The vendors all had bowls of fresh water outside their establishments and we were able to watch some canine agility demonstrations. We had non-stop entertainment from jugglers, comedians, belly-dancers, Irish dancers, minstrels and magicians. My son ate everything from a huge turkey leg to pizza on a stick, cheesecake, ice cream, smoothie and a macaroon. (It was a long day.) My daughter and I took in the arts and crafts with a great appreciation for the pottery, paintings, jewelry and metalwork. (The first thing I bought her was a crown, because every princess needs a crown at the Renaissance!) So many people (and their pets) were in costume. There were characters heckling everyone as we walked in. I loved it. They loved it. There were a few moments where I really missed Bob because this was something we hadn't been to since the kids were in a stroller. I even saw a shirt that said, "Wenches Want Me" and knew he would have worn it with pride. And then, flying over the river, he was there, a bald eagle, and I knew for sure he was as happy in his place, looking over us as we were in this place. It couldn't have been a better day. It's nearly impossible to do anything that involves all of us that we will all find enjoyable. This day was it. I will treasure it forever. There was not a single grouch all day long!

Dear Joanne,

There is a poem called "God's Flower Garden" in the poetry section of this forum. It is really special and a good one to share with your children. Another book I really liked was Grace for Grief by Michael and Brenda Pink. They lost a child and even though I lost my husband, it gave me focus and direction when I had none.

Take care,

Kath

Dear Laurie,

I know there is no happiness or feeling of anything festive during this time. What I did with my kids wasn't easy and it wasn't shared with anyone but us. I went to Bob's brother's house on Christmas day and it was horrible. There was no mention of his name at all, by his own family. When I said something about him, there was no response. That to me, was worse than anything. How could they not acknowledge him? I know they were grieving and just trying to get through, but making that effort in our home to keep him close in thought and action, truly helped all of us. My kids were only 9 and 10 at the time. I couldn't go into a store without getting ill. We didn't have many gifts, but we had each other and that is just something I refuse to let go of.

I wish I could give you a hug right now. Six months is a horrible time. Please be gentle with yourself as you try to get through each day. The holidays come and go and most get washed up in the struggle to survive the aloneness. I remember it feeling so cruel that holidays and music and all the rest could continue in a world without Bob. It was so wrong. Do only what you need to do, Hon.

Kath

Kay,

I'm sorry to hear about your uncle. You're right in that it brings up a lot of emotion all over again. I'll keep you in prayer my friend.

Thank you for sharing the video of your daughter here. It is so adorable. (I spend way more time here than on facebook.)

Kath