Wednesday, February 17, 2021

50 Things I learned After I was Widowed

 


Today is my 50th birthday.
And believe it or not, I am alright with that.
Honestly.
I am so alright with that.
I consider myself very lucky to be 50.
So many people don’t even make it to 50, their lives tragically cut short far too soon.
And so many people never truly live while they have the chance. They rush from day to day, so busy making a living they don’t even notice life pass them by.
I was one of those people until tragedy completely changed my life and me.
After my husband died, I had to rebuild my life and myself.
It took a lot of grief and a lot of hard work for me to get to where I am today.
I’m far from perfect, and I’ve certainly made my share of mistakes.
I have more wrinkles and my hair colour is now (a well-disguised) natural grey. I’ve been skinnier in my life, but I’ve never been fitter.
In fact, I am emotionally, mentally, and physically healthier than I ever was when Dan was alive.
And I can honestly say, I’m the happiest I’ve been in years.
Ironically, the best version of me was born from my husband’s death. It took a long time for me to reconcile that with myself.
Death truly is life’s greatest teacher.
Death challenged me in every way possible. It took away everything I believed in and forced me to confront my worst fears.
And yet, it also made me appreciate each and every moment.
It has shown me the power of vulnerability and the importance of gratitude.
And it has made me love more fiercely than I ever thought possible.
Death has made me more resilient, and stronger than I ever thought I could be.
And it has made me wiser.
I have learned so many valuable life lessons in the six years since Dan died.
You may say they are clichés, but there’s a reason why clichés are
written.
I learned the truth of these 50 life lessons the hardest way possible.
1. Life isn’t fair, but it’s still good.
2. Growing old beats the alternative – dying young.
3. You have to let go of the life you thought you’d have and make happiness in the life you do have.
4. No one else can make you happy. Only you can do that.
5. Those who complain the most, accomplish the least.
6. Be kind, you don’t know what someone else is going through. But remember: going through a hard time does not give you a license to treat people poorly.
7. You can’t change the past. Learn from it, then let it go. Before it destroys your present.
8. Nobody can rescue you but you. Get up and be your own damn hero.
9. You have to keep laughing, it really is the best medicine.
10. Yelling never helps, it usually makes things worse.
11. Blame is the favorite pastime of those who dislike responsibility.
12. You are more than enough. When you realize your worth, it will change everything.
13. You don’t know what you don’t know. Nobody has all the answers.
14. You can’t numb the pain, and it just makes it worse when you try. Sadly, gin is not always your friend.
15. Grief demands to be heard, so don’t even try to bury it. Until you lean into it, acknowledge it, and process it, you will never heal.
16. Your grief is your grief, only you truly know what you are feeling. And you are not obligated to share it with anyone.
17. Stop caring what other people think. Seriously. There will always be people who judge you. Their opinion doesn’t matter.
18. Don’t compare your life to others’. You have no idea what their journey is all about.
19. Not everyone will be there to support you. Let them go. They aren’t your people.
20. Sometimes people show up in your life just when you need them the most. Serendipity is a beautiful thing.
21. Everyone needs a tribe to support them, in good times and in bad.
22. It’s okay to ask for help, it doesn’t make you weak, it makes you strong.
23. Self-care is not indulgent, it’s necessary.
24. Material objects are just that – objects. What you own is not who you are.
25. Less really is more, except when it comes to coffee, of course.
26. Coffee won’t fix it. But it will help. Be kind to the baristas of the world.
27. Exercise is just as important for your mental health as it is your physical health.
28. Just 15 minutes of exercise will have a positive impact on your attitude. Put down your phone and go for a walk.
29. Vulnerability is a strength, not a weakness.
30. Sometimes you need to go somewhere to discover where you don’t want to be.
31. Sometimes you accidentally find your purpose, but your purpose is never an accident.
32. You get what you give. Be there for others when they need you.
33. Gratitude completely changes your outlook and your heart.
34. There is always something to be grateful for. Even on the worst of days. You’re still here, aren’t you?
35. Sometimes you have to say no.
36. And sometimes you have to say yes.
37. Wishing things were different is a great way to torture yourself.
38. You’ll never know if you never ask. If you don’t ask, you don’t get.
39. It’s okay to be scared. Do it anyway. That’s courage.
40. Stop waiting for the perfect time. There is no perfect time, there is only now.
41. Regret is the price you pay for fear. Fear isn’t worth the price.
42. Grief is the price you pay for love. Love is so worth the price.
43. Shattered hearts do heal. You will love again if you are brave enough to let love find you.
44. Time spent with people you love is never wasted time.
45. You never know when it will be the last time you say I Love You, so say it to your people as often as you can.
46. Loss teaches you the true value of time. It really is much shorter than you think.
47. Eat the chocolate. Burn the candles. Wear the perfume. Life is too damn short.
48. The little things that annoy you so much often become the things you miss the most about someone when they are gone.
49. All that truly matters, in the end, is that you loved.
50. Get busy living or get busy dying. The choice is yours.
The choice has always been yours. Just like it was always mine.
Don’t make the same mistake I did. Don’t wait until something catastrophic happens to choose to live the best life you possibly can.
Live it now.
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Tuesday, February 9, 2021

7 Ways to Support a Widow on Valentine's Day.


Love is in the air. And in the stores. And in every social media newsfeed.


It’s as if the whole world has vomited a sappy spew of pink and red.


And for many, all of the pink and red and hearts and flowers are nothing but salt in a wound.


For the widowed, this is especially true.


For those mourning the loss of their partner, Valentine's Day can feel particularly cruel because it emphasizes togetherness, love, and romance.


It is yet another painful reminder of their aloneness.


Particularly during these Covid times when so many are isolated from their family and support groups.


There are some ways you can make this Valentine’s Day a little brighter for the widow(s) in your life.


  1. Reach out. We all need to know we aren’t forgotten. A special Valentine’s  card is a tangible way to show her/him that you care and means so much to a widowed heart. If you don’t have time to mail or drop off a card, pick up the phone, or send a message or text. She/he will so appreciate that you were thinking of them.


  1. Give a thoughtful gift. A gift doesn’t have to be extravagant or expensive to be meaningful. Chocolates, coffee, a small bouquet of flowers, a book or gift cards are all thoughtful ways to show a widow(er) you remember them.


  1. Give the gift presence. While Covid has limited our ability to gather together, you can still give a widow the gift of presence. Arrange a zoom or FaceTime coffee or lunch date. Inivite them for a socially distanced walk.


  1. Give the gift of time. Running a household completely by yourself is exhausting when you are widowed, especially if you are also working form home or home schooling do to Covid. Volunteer to help with practical chores like show shovelling or running errands such as picking up groceries or prescriptions. 


  1. Help with childcare or pet care.  Offer to spend some (socially distanced) time with the kids to give them some much needed free time. Or offer to pet sit or take the dog for a walk to give them a break. Even a few quiet minutes by yourself can make a big difference.


  1. Offer to listen. Every widow needs a safe place to vent and unload all their pent up emotions without fear of judgement. You don’t need to try to solve anything, you just need to listen.


  1. Remember grief doesn’t have an expiry date. Yes, it might have been years since our spouse died, but that doesn’t mean we don’t still miss them (every single day). No matter how much time has past, we are still going to have moments of intense grief. 


It’s difficult for the widowed to be bombarded with ads and reminders on Valentine’s Day. You can’t change the holiday, but you can do something to comfort the widows in your life on what for them could otherwise be a very difficult and sad day. 


You can't fix anything, but remember even the smallest, simplest of gestures can touch a widow's heart on Valentine’s Day.


And it's often these small acts of kindness that mean the most.




To learn more about grief, resiliency, and life after loss, follow Monica on Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/

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Monday, February 17, 2020

49 Things I Learned After I Was Widowed


Today is my 49th birthday. And believe it or not, I am alright with that. Honestly. I am so alright with that. I consider myself very lucky to be 49.

So many people don’t even make it to 49, their lives tragically cut short far too soon. And so many people never truly live while they have the chance. They rush from day to day, so busy making a living they don’t even notice as life passes them by. I was one of those people until tragedy completely changed my life and me.

After my husband died, I had to rebuild my life and myself. It took a lot of grief and a lot of hard work for me to get to where I am today. I’m far from perfect, and I’ve certainly made my share of mistakes. I have more wrinkles and my hair colour is now (a well-disguised) natural grey. I’ve been skinnier in my life, but I’ve never been fitter. In fact, I am emotionally, mentally, and physically healthier than I ever was when Dan was alive. And I can honestly say, I’m the happiest I’ve been in years. Ironically, the best version of me was born from my husband’s death. It took a long time for me to reconcile that with myself.

Death truly is life’s greatest teacher. Death challenged me in every way possible. It took away everything I believed in and forced me to confront my worst fears. And yet, it also made me appreciate each and every moment. It has shown me the power of vulnerability and the importance of gratitude. And it has made me love more fiercely than I ever thought possible. Death has made me more resilient, and stronger than I ever thought I could be. And it has made me wiser.

I have learned so many valuable life lessons in the six years since Dan died. You may say they are clichés, but there’s a reason why clichés are written.

I learned the truth of these 49 life lessons the hardest way possible.

1. Life isn’t fair, but it’s still good.

2. Growing old beats the alternative – dying young.

3. You have to let go of the life you thought you’d have and make happiness in the life you do have.

4. No one else can make you happy. Only you can do that.

5. Happiness is a choice and you have to work at it every day.

6. Be kind, you don’t know what someone else is going through. But remember: going through a hard time does not give you a license to treat people poorly.

7. You can’t change the past. Learn from it, then let it go. Before it destroys your present.

8. Nobody can rescue you but you. Get up and be your own damn hero.

9. You have to keep laughing, it really is the best medicine.

10. You are more than enough. When you realize your worth, it will change everything.

11. You don’t know what you don’t know. Nobody has all the answers.

12. You can’t numb the pain, and it just makes it worse when you try. Sadly, gin is not always your friend.

13. Grief demands to be heard, so don’t even try to bury it. Until you lean into it, acknowledge it, and process it, you will never heal.

14. Your grief is your grief, only you truly know what you are feeling. And you are not obligated to share it with anyone.

15. Stop caring what other people think. Seriously. There will always be people who judge you. Their opinion doesn’t matter.

16. Don’t compare your life to others’. You have no idea what their journey is all about.

17. Not everyone will be there to support you. Let them go. They aren’t your people.

18. Sometimes people show up in your life just when you need them the most. Serendipity is a beautiful thing.

19. Everyone needs a tribe to support them, in good times and in bad.

20. It’s okay to ask for help, it doesn’t make you weak, it makes you strong.

21. Self-care is not indulgent, it’s necessary.

22. Material objects are just that – objects. What you own is not who you are.

23. Less really is more, except when it comes to coffee, of course.

24. Coffee won’t fix it. But it will help. Be kind to the baristas of the world.

25. Exercise is just as important for your emotional health as it is for your physical health.

26. Just 15 minutes of exercise will have a positive impact on your attitude. Put down your phone and go for a walk.

27. Vulnerability is a strength, not a weakness.

28. Sometimes you need to go somewhere to discover where you don’t want to be.

29. You can never truly go home because home is not the same and neither are you.

30. Sometimes you accidentally find your purpose, but your purpose is never an accident.

31. You get what you give. Be there for others when they need you.

32. Gratitude completely changes your outlook and your heart.

33. There is always something to be grateful for. Even on the worst of days. You’re still here, aren’t you?

34. Sometimes you have to say no.

35. And sometimes you have to say yes.

36. Some things and some people are totally worth the risk.

37. You’ll never know if you never ask. If you don’t ask, you don’t get.

38. It’s okay to be scared. Do it anyway. That’s courage.

39. Stop waiting for the perfect time. There is no perfect time, there is only now.

40. Regret is the price you pay for fear. Fear isn’t worth the price.

41. Grief is the price you pay for love. Love is so worth the price.

42. Shattered hearts do heal. You will love again if you are brave enough to let love find you.

43. Time spent with people you love is never wasted time.

44. You never know when it will be the last time you say I Love You, so say it to your people as often as you can.

45. Loss teaches you the true value of time. It really is much shorter than you think.

46. Eat the chocolate. Burn the candles. Wear the perfume. Life is too damn short.

47. The little things that annoy you so much often become the things you miss the most about someone when they are gone.

48. All that truly matters, in the end, is that you loved.

49. Get busy living or get busy dying. The choice is yours.

The choice has always been yours. Just like it was always mine.

Don’t make the same mistake I did. Don’t wait until something catastrophic happens to choose to live the best life you possibly can.

Live it now.

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Friday, February 7, 2020

Bittersweet Birthdays


I came across this picture a few days ago. And I can honestly say it brought me to my knees. Grief is sneaky that way. It hits you suddenly and unexpectedly. A scent. An old, familiar tune. A faded photograph.

Grief never really goes away. It just lurks under the surface. Waiting for the next song, the next photograph, the next special occasion to resurface

When Dan died, so many people told me I would be angry. But I’m not. And I never have been. Anger, bitterness, and resentment are such toxic emotions. I’d already, we’d already, sacrificed so much. I refused to give my emotional energy to those toxic emotions. And also I saw no point in being angry at a LAV and a hole in the ground. So I chose gratitude over resentment. Some days that was easier than others, but I chose gratitude anyway. Because the hardest days were the days I needed it the most.

So today I’m not angry Dan isn’t here to celebrate our firstborn and only son’s 24th birthday. I’m not thinking about all the birthdays he’s missed. I’m grateful for all the ones he was here for. But that doesn’t mean I’m not a little bit sad. I’m actually god damn sad. And that’s the thing they don’t tell you about grief.

The rest of your life will be bittersweet. All of those happy joyous occasions will always be tainted by a tinge of sadness. That is the duality of life after loss.

Today is one of those bittersweet days. Dan was over the moon ecstatic when this little guy was born, twenty-four years ago today. Twenty-fours years. How can that be? I was twenty-four when we had him. I remember the first time Dan held him. He stood there and looked at him in awe. 


“Hello Old Man. I’m your Dad.”

He was an incredible Dad. The kind of Dad I wish I’d had. The kind of Dad our son will be because he learned from the best. I’d say Dan was even better at being a Dad than he was at being a soldier. Which is saying a lot, because he was one hell of a soldier.

Since he’s been gone, I’ve been the only parent. Both Mom and Dad. I’ve tried to fill his shoes and be as good of a parent as he was. Sometimes I do okay at it. Sometimes I fail epically.

The last six years haven’t been easy. Far from it. Especially for this little guy that followed in his Dad’s footsteps. That’s hard enough to do when your Dad is alive, even harder when you put a uniform on less than three months after your father is tragically killed.

He has literally worn his father’s name tag for the last five years. He, more than any of us, has had to carry the weight of that name. The pressure and expectation that come with it have been overwhelming at times. There have been missteps and setbacks. But every time he’s picked himself back up and he’s persevered. He’s grown into an incredibly compassionate, empathetic, resilient young man.

Sometimes when I see him in uniform, it’s like déjà vu. A blonde version of a boy I knew a long time ago. So much like him in so many ways, a little bit like me in others. But mostly himself.

When he was in preschool his teacher asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up. He looked at her very seriously for a minute before answering. “I want to be Connor Robert Bobbitt.”

Finally, at twenty-four he’s becoming his own man, making his own way. No longer lingering in his Dad’s shadow. His Dad would be so incredibly proud of him. I know I am.

Happy Birthday, Old Man. Thank God you have better taste in glasses than your Dad did.
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Monday, August 5, 2019

A Widow's Companion

There’s a cute little two-bedroom brick bungalow beside my house, the kind that would be perfect for an older retired couple.

But it’s not. It was a bungalow built for one.

The sweet lady who lives there is also a widow. Slightly over five feet, with dark hair and glasses, she could pass for my mother. Although, ironically, I have more grey hair than either one of them does.

We hit it off right away, her and I. The older and younger widow, bonded by a commonality we both wish we didn’t have.

Her diminutive stature belies an indomitable spirit that even the biggest, burliest man would envy. That I envy.

The last decade has not been kind to her. She nursed her husband through a long, difficult illness only to have him die shortly after he had seemingly recovered.

Her children long grown, she was left alone with two furry friends her husband had insisted on adopting against her protests. She found herself surprisingly grateful for their companionship, until they too both died, one and then the other, leaving her completely alone. She misses them fiercely.

I often hear her out in my front yard talking to my dog Ginny as she lies in the sun. I watch them through the window, and my heart melts. Their conversations seem so intensely personal, I’m loath to interrupt. I let them have their time before I go see if she needs help with anything. The answer, of course, is no.

It’s always no.

“Thank you for asking, but I’m good.”

We both know this is a lie. She is far from good.

She leans heavily on her cane as she slowly and painstakingly makes her way across the un-landscaped space between our houses. I want to take her arm to make sure she doesn’t stumble. I take a step toward her but stop myself. Instead, I hold my breath until she reaches for the post on her landing and climbs the steps to her front door.

In one of life’s cruel twists, she was diagnosed with cancer after her husband died. Chemo, radiation, surgery. She’s done it all, without a partner to support her. One bout with cancer was followed by another, this time in her bones.

It seems like she’s spent more time in the hospital than she has at home over the past six months. I’ve woken up several times in the middle of the night to see the flashing lights of an ambulance in front of her house. Each time I wonder if she will be coming home again. I tell her to call me the next time so she isn’t waiting alone. But she never does.

She’s fallen several times. Her son got her an alert necklace after the last late-night ambulance ride. She’s relieved to have it, to ease his mind if nothing else. But she also resents it, this tangible symbol of her gradual loss of independence.

She’s so determined to keep going.

“You have to keep going, Monica. You can’t stop.”

And so she goes.

Every day I see her walking slowly to her car. Off to Walmart or Michael’s, or sometimes even the local pub. She tells me I’d love their fish and chips.

“They’re pretty good, even for a fish snob.”

She already knows me so well.

Often she is out watering the flowers and plants she has in multiple pots on her front step. I can hear humming and talking to herself as she works.

Her only concession: last week they paved her driveway. The only spot to park was down across the street, too far even for her stubbornness. And so she relented and parked in mine.

I pull into the driveway just after her. She’d spent the day in the emergency room. Again. Her hands and feet both covered in blisters, a reaction to her latest round of chemo. They’ve stopped chemo temporarily for her to heal.

“But what happens when I start chemo again?”

Tears glisten in her eyes and her voice cracks a bit. She struggles to regain her composure. It’s the first time I’ve seen her show emotion.

I try to swallow my own.

We’d literally just returned from a few days playing tourist in Montreal. The bottoms of my feet were blistered from rubbing on my sandals in the heat. I feel small for whining about them.

I ask her if she would like some help, but I know before I even ask what her answer will be.
She turns and hobbles down the sidewalk towards her house.

As I watch her go, I am overcome with sadness. I rail at the unfairness of it all. And I wonder why life has to be so damn hard.

And then fear closes in on me like a thick, dense fog.

Fear, the widow’s companion. Always lurking, waiting to make its presence known.

It is there in the darkness of the night when the house shifts. And in the morning light when the floorboards creak. A sudden noise, a backfired car, a doorbell ringing on a sunny day.

It is always there.

It is never far away.

I do not dwell on my fears. I don’t ever want them to win. I refuse to live in fear. And most of the days, I have fear mastered. I can look it directly in the eyes and send it on its way.

But some days. Some days that battle exhausts me. And fear is not quite so willing to say goodbye.

Today is one of those days.

Today this is my truth:

There are times I am afraid.

Deeply afraid.

Afraid that my children will lose me too.

Afraid of a future alone.

Afraid I will never again find that person who will love me until the end.

Afraid that someday, I will be the widow hobbling home to an empty house on badly blistered feet.

I watch as my dear, lovely neighbour climbs her steps. First one, then another. She stops to catch her breath. And then takes the final steps to her door.

I wait until I know she is safely inside.

I exhale the breath I didn’t know I was holding as I unlock my front door, glancing next door one last time.

Keep going Monica, I whisper.

A lone tear escapes my eye and rolls ever so slowly down my cheek.

Just keep going.
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Tuesday, February 26, 2019

48 Things I Learned After I Was Widowed

by Monica Bobbitt


I turned 48 a little over a week ago. Forty-freaking-eight. 

And believe it or not, I am alright with that.

Honestly.

I am so alright with that. I consider myself very lucky to be 48.

So many people don’t even make it to 48, their lives tragically cut short far too soon.

And so many people never truly live while they have the chance. They rush from day to day, so busy making a living they don’t even notice as life passes them by.

I was one of those people until tragedy completely changed my life and me.

After my husband died, I had to rebuild my life and myself.

It took a lot of grief and a lot of hard work for me to get to where I am today.

I’m far from perfect, and I’ve certainly made my share of mistakes. I have more wrinkles and my hair colour is now (a well disguised) natural grey. I’ve been skinnier in my life, but I’ve never been fitter.

In fact, I am emotionally, mentally, and physically healthier than I ever was when Dan was alive.

And I can honestly say, I’m the happiest I’ve been in years.

Ironically, the best version of me was born from my husband’s death. It took a long time for me to reconcile that with myself.

Death truly is life’s greatest teacher.

Death challenged me in every way possible. It took away everything I believed in and forced me to confront my worst fears.

And yet, it also made me appreciate each and every moment. It has shown me the power of vulnerability and the importance of gratitude.

And it has made me love more fiercely than I ever thought possible.

Death has made me more resilient, and stronger than I ever thought I could be.

And it has made me wiser.

I have learned so many valuable life lessons in the five years since Dan died.

You may say they are clichés, but there’s a reason why clichés are
written.

I learned the truth of these 48 life lessons the hardest way possible.

1. You don’t know what you don’t know. Nobody has all the answers.

2. Nobody can rescue you but you. Get up and be your own damn hero.

3. You have to let go of the life you thought you’d have and make happiness in the life you do have.

4. No one else can make you happy. Only you can do that.

5. Happiness is a choice and you have to work at it every day.

6. Be kind, you don’t know what someone else is going through. But remember: going through a hard time does not give you a license to treat people poorly.

7. You can’t change the past. Learn from it, then let it go. Before it destroys your present.

8. Only parenting is the hardest job you will ever do, but the most rewarding.

9. You have to keep laughing, it really is the best medicine.

10. You are more than enough. When you realize your worth, it will change everything.

11. Coffee won’t fix it. But it will help. Be kind to the baristas of the world.

12. You can’t numb the pain, and it just makes it worse when you try. Sadly, gin is not always your friend.

13. Grief demands to be heard, so don’t even try to bury it. Until you lean into it, acknowledge it, and process it, you will never heal.

14. Your grief is your grief, only you truly know what you are feeling. And you are not obligated to share it with anyone.

15. Stop caring what other people think. Seriously. There will always be people who judge you. Their opinion doesn’t matter.

16. Not everyone will be there to support you. Let them go. They aren’t your people.

17. Sometimes people show up in your life just when you need them the most. Serendipity is a beautiful thing.

18. Everyone needs a tribe to support them, in good times and in bad.

19. It’s okay to ask for help, it doesn’t make you weak, it makes you strong.

20. Self-care is not indulgent, it’s necessary.

21. Material objects are just that— objects. What you own is not who you are.

22. Less really is more, except when it comes to coffee, of course.

23. Exercise is just as important for your emotional health as it is for your physical health.

24. Put down your phone and go for a walk. Even 15 minutes will have a positive impact on your attitude.

25. And while you’re out there, stop and smell the roses. They only bloom for such a short period of time.

26. Vulnerability is a strength, not a weakness.

27. Sometimes you need to go somewhere to discover where you don’t want to be.

28. You can never truly go home because home is not the same and neither are you.

29. Sometimes you accidentally find your purpose, but your purpose is never an accident.

30. Be there for others when they need you. You get what you give.

31. Gratitude completely changes your outlook and your heart.

32. There is always something to be grateful for. Even on the worst of days. You’re still here, aren’t you?

33. Sometimes you have to say no.

34. And sometimes you have to say yes.

35. Some things and some people are totally worth the risk.

36. You’ll never know if you never ask.

37. It’s okay to be scared. Do it anyway. That’s courage.

38. Stop waiting for the perfect time. There is no perfect time, there is only now.

39. Regret is the price you pay for fear. Fear isn’t worth the price.

40. Grief is the price you pay for love. Love is so worth the price.

41. Shattered hearts do heal. You will love again if you are brave enough to let love find you.

42. Time spent with people you love is never wasted time.

43. You never know when it will be the last time you say I Love You, so say it to your people as often as you can.

44. Loss teaches you the true value of time. It really is much shorter than you think.

45. Eat the chocolate. Burn the candles. Wear the perfume. Life is too damn short.

46. The little things that annoy you so much often become the things you miss the most about someone when they are gone.

47. All that truly matters, in the end, is that you loved.

48. Get busy living or get busy dying. The choice is yours.

The choice has always been yours. Just like it was always mine.

Don’t make the same mistake I did. Don’t wait until something catastrophic happens to choose to live the best life you possibly can.

Live it now.



Monica


To learn more about grief, resiliency, and life after loss, follow Monica Bobbitt on Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/
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