tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35326750340816857772024-03-13T03:51:56.020-03:00A Goat Rodeo With Monica BobbittMonicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.comBlogger66125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532675034081685777.post-5438207045982705402022-04-12T16:36:00.013-03:002022-10-17T17:07:52.196-03:00You Don't Just Lose Someone Once<div class="xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgBJJl6GXZyFSISJElySHxyNU1I2HDFnYOTn-oyB3_pSH4aRz7bEn0D2KNylj93ZGAFVoJQnhaUYxN0-NS80dxPMT1NuiVrdlFSqUCfi35vU4J8cPMaGYnMNkADBPZQufnBh2mW5iNHdwl9ctDYuhrBB_shlG3iwXJiOElilOml5KDNvHQMF-z4l9iMw/s679/A2768246-1A0A-4B05-84E0-606CAE9D5839.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="679" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgBJJl6GXZyFSISJElySHxyNU1I2HDFnYOTn-oyB3_pSH4aRz7bEn0D2KNylj93ZGAFVoJQnhaUYxN0-NS80dxPMT1NuiVrdlFSqUCfi35vU4J8cPMaGYnMNkADBPZQufnBh2mW5iNHdwl9ctDYuhrBB_shlG3iwXJiOElilOml5KDNvHQMF-z4l9iMw/s320/A2768246-1A0A-4B05-84E0-606CAE9D5839.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">You don’t just lose someone once.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">You lose them when you close your eyes each night.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">And as you open them each morning.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">You lose them throughout the day.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">An unused coffee cup.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">An empty chair.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">A pair of boots no longer there.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">You lose them as the sun sets.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">And darkness closes in.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">You lose them as you wonder why.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">Staring at a star lit sky.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">You lose them on the big days.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">Anniversaries.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">Birthdays.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">Graduations.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">Holidays.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">Weddings.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">And the regular days too.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">You lose them in the ordinary.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">Paperwork.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">Household chores.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">Routines taken for granted.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">You lose them in the familiar.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">A song they used to sing.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">The scent of their cologne.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">A slice of their favourite pie.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">You lose them in conversations you will never have.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">And all the words unsaid.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">You lose them in all the places they’ve been.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">And all the places they longed to go.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">You lose them in what could have been.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">And all the dreams you shared.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">You lose them as you pick up the broken pieces.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">And begin your life anew.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">You lose them when you realize.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">This is your new reality.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">They are never coming back.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">No matter how much </span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">You miss them or</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">Need them.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">No matter how hard you pray.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">They are gone.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">And you must go on.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">Alone.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">You lose them as the seasons' change.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">The snow blows.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">The flowers blossom.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">The grass grows.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">The leaves fall.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">You lose them again and again.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">Day after day.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">Month after month.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">Year after year.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">Time marches on, carrying them further and further way.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">You lose them as your hair whitens and your body bends with age.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">Your memory fades.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">And the details begin to blur.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">Their face stares back at you from a faded photograph.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">Someone you used to know.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">You think you might have loved them once.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">Long ago.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">Back then.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">When you were whole.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">You don’t just lose someone once.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">You lose them every day.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">Over and over again.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">For the rest of your life. </span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: Montserrat; font-size: medium;">~Monica Bobbitt</span></div></div>Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532675034081685777.post-56103846390787687652021-08-26T18:34:00.001-03:002022-10-17T17:08:19.109-03:00It Still Matters<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4xA0HF5bLmT8aOuoIljxeRpxE8qkIolc7S1Ix7gsGoy-WLf2EQbhx0NQlStGzo70Ee9MwaCi1eVppWYlC1fTDKMK7-LsfSI9OtQwTXdxVov97aZswANEOq9lNxCNJ-Aw4weQ_mRnfDTFo/s432/FBB13EB6-A399-414B-96B0-B8D5119185BB.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="432" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4xA0HF5bLmT8aOuoIljxeRpxE8qkIolc7S1Ix7gsGoy-WLf2EQbhx0NQlStGzo70Ee9MwaCi1eVppWYlC1fTDKMK7-LsfSI9OtQwTXdxVov97aZswANEOq9lNxCNJ-Aw4weQ_mRnfDTFo/s320/FBB13EB6-A399-414B-96B0-B8D5119185BB.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span face="system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Fourteen years ago I was anxiously counting down the last two weeks of my husband’s deployment to Afghanistan.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Seven weeks earlier, we’d been on vacation in the UK when he received the news no commander ever wants. I saw him cry, for the first and only time, as he was told one of his officers had been killed.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">He was utterly devastated. </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">A mournful shadow was cast over the rest of our time together. </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Physically he was with us, but emotionally, mentally he was thousands of miles away, back in that desert land.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">At the end of the summer, he came home. We were the lucky ones, for a time anyway.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">I stopped holding my breath in anticipation, stopped jumping each time the doorbell rang. </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Afghanistan changed Dan, as it did everyone who went there. </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">He rarely spoke to me of his time there, sheltering me from what he’d seen; what had almost been, but for the grace of God. </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">And he never spoke of the grief he felt over the many losses the battle group suffered during his deployment. The irony of that is not lost on me, as I now specialize in writing and speaking about grief. </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">I’ve watched the events unfolding in Afghanistan this week with a lump in my throat. </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">My heart aches for the Afghan people. And for all the veterans, soldiers, and families whose lives were touched by the war.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">I’ve struggled to find words, and when the words came, wondered if I should share them. </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">After all, I’m not an Afghanistan widow, I’m an accidental military widow. The irony of Dan surviving Afghanistan only to be killed at home in a training accident seven years later is also not lost on me. </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">And I’m not a soldier. I was merely a spectator to Dan’s time there, though I know he’d argue that point and say I was so much more than that. </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">I’m not a soldier, but Afghanistan touched my life and changed it. As it did my children’s and countless other families in Canada and around the world.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">I can’t help but wonder what Dan would say if he was here to witness the tragedy that is occurring in Afghanistan today. </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">I think some small part of me is glad he’s not here to witness the tragic events unfolding, words I never thought I’d say.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">But at least he’s spared the pain so many of his comrades are feeling right now.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">A slight silver lining that slides like quicksilver through my fingers as I clasp my hands together in despair.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Despair. I’m sure he would be feeling that too. And so many other emotions.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Anger.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Disappointment.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Frustration. </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Guilt.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Helplessness.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Sadness.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Grief. So much grief.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">And pride. Yes, pride.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">He was always so incredibly proud of the men and women he had the honour of leading.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">He gave the best of himself to Afghanistan and her people, to the men and women he commanded. </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">He believed they— you— made him the officer he was. </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Current events would never, could never change that.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">I know if he were still here, he’d have spent the last several days reaching out to his soldiers. He’d offer them an ear to listen, a shoulder to lean on. There’d be coffee and beer. Because that’s who he was.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">They’d talk in a language I can never understand. Because I don’t wear a uniform and it wasn’t my war.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">I can never know what Dan would say if he were here. </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">But when others ask what the point of it all was. Did it matter? Was their sacrifice— their blood, sweat, tears— all in vain? Did they leave pieces of themselves back there in that arid land for nothing? </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">I can hear his voice so clearly in my head.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">“You’re damn straight it matters.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">For 20 years, Afghans had a better life. Because of us.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">For two decades, girls got to attend school. Women could vote and hold jobs in government. Because of us.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Their lives weren’t perfect, but they were better. Because of us.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">And that matters. It doesn’t stop mattering now.”</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">I can hear him just as surely as if he were standing here before me.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">I hold onto these words as I watch thousands of Afghans flood onto the tarmac in desperation, as they chase the plane down the runway, helplessly trying to hang on with whatever hope they have left. </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">I hold onto these words as politicians and pundits question and criticize the legitimacy of the war and the wisdom of the pullout.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">“It still matters.”</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">His voice, sure and calm, reassures me. </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">They are the words I need to hear; the ones I choose to believe.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">I so wish he were here to say it himself. But he’s not.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">So I’ll say it for him. </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">It still matters.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">And you, you matter so much. </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">To Dan, to me. </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">To the thousands of faces with names you will never know, whose world, however briefly, was made better because of you.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span class="pq6dq46d tbxw36s4 knj5qynh kvgmc6g5 ditlmg2l oygrvhab nvdbi5me sf5mxxl7 gl3lb2sf hhz5lgdu" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; display: inline-flex; font-size: 15px; height: 16px; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle; width: 16px;"><img alt="🇨🇦" height="16" referrerpolicy="origin-when-cross-origin" src="https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/t9/2/16/1f1e8_1f1e6.png" style="border: 0px;" width="16" /></span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Members & Veterans: 1-800-268-7708</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">TDD/TTY: 1-800-567-5803</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Family Line: 1-800-866-4546</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Suicide Prevention: 1-833-456-4566</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">911</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span class="pq6dq46d tbxw36s4 knj5qynh kvgmc6g5 ditlmg2l oygrvhab nvdbi5me sf5mxxl7 gl3lb2sf hhz5lgdu" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; display: inline-flex; font-size: 15px; height: 16px; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle; width: 16px;"><img alt="🇺🇸" height="16" referrerpolicy="origin-when-cross-origin" src="https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/tf2/2/16/1f1fa_1f1f8.png" style="border: 0px;" width="16" /></span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;"> Veterans: 1-800-273-8255</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Women Veterans: 1-855-829-6636</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Vet Call Center: 1-877-927-8387</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Suicide Prevention: 1-800-273-8255</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">911</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span class="pq6dq46d tbxw36s4 knj5qynh kvgmc6g5 ditlmg2l oygrvhab nvdbi5me sf5mxxl7 gl3lb2sf hhz5lgdu" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; display: inline-flex; font-size: 15px; height: 16px; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle; width: 16px;"><img alt="🇬🇧" height="16" referrerpolicy="origin-when-cross-origin" src="https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/tf5/2/16/1f1ec_1f1e7.png" style="border: 0px;" width="16" /></span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Combat Stress 24-Hour Military </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Mental Health Helpline</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Tel: 0800 323 4444 open 24/7</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Text: 07537 404 719</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Samaritans</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Tel: 116 123</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">SSAFA Forcesline</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Tel: 0800 731 4880 open 9:00 - 17:30 Monday - Friday</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); 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color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Speak Out</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Confidential bullying, harassment, and discrimination helpline.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Tel: (Civ) 0306 7704656 (Mil) 96770 4656</span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: 15px;"> </span></span></p><br />Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532675034081685777.post-4105972461648219802021-04-09T13:12:00.010-03:002022-10-17T17:08:53.468-03:00On the 104th Anniversary of Vimy Ridge, Let Us Not Forget the Families they Left Behind<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimkkIHmV8qdyeJATn_vBZQJGgbA9secuifq2xnAfTZrAaOrlQnxyttiN9TQvrOBbi-TU8VxMgsiPYJffdCVIZBKui-o8REKOOjQDGq8OtOWNVuVXMiSh6T7MSOa_4FyaEHwHv6ojCgovLI/s960/171527393_297885528371798_3946742641808873568_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimkkIHmV8qdyeJATn_vBZQJGgbA9secuifq2xnAfTZrAaOrlQnxyttiN9TQvrOBbi-TU8VxMgsiPYJffdCVIZBKui-o8REKOOjQDGq8OtOWNVuVXMiSh6T7MSOa_4FyaEHwHv6ojCgovLI/s320/171527393_297885528371798_3946742641808873568_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Today is the 104th anniversary of the Battle of Vimy Ridge. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Some 620,000 Canadians answered the call to serve during the First World War.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">They went to war as Albertans, Nova Scotians, Ontarians... they came home as Canadians.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">60,000 of them were never to come home again; 3,598 of whom paid the ultimate sacrifice at Vimy Ridge.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">As Prince Charles said so very eloquently on the 100th Anniversary of the Battle of Vimy Ridge,<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">"Canadians displayed a strength of character and commitment to one another that is still evident today. They did not waiver. This was Canada at its best; the Canadians at Vimy embodied the True North Strong and Free."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">If you have ever visited Vimy Ridge you know there are no words to describe how hauntingly sad and yet beautiful it is.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Vimy Ridge is a profoundly moving and meaningful place for all Canadians, but perhaps even more so for military families.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">When I stood there, I thought not just of the soldiers lost, but also of the 10,602 wounded, and the countless thousands of others who came home with invisible wounds.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I remembered them all, and I remembered the families they left behind. Families that would never be the same.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Wives, children, fathers, mothers. 3,598 families just like ours. But so not like ours.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">They were left to mourn and grieve in a time that was so different than now. A telegram arrived at their door informing them of their loss and that was it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">No regiment standing beside them to guide them through those excruciating early days of loss, no designated assistant to help them navigate the paperwork to receive their widow's pension, no MIlitary Family Resource Centre to provide support for them and their children, and certainly no counselors to help them process their grief.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Their soldiers were never brought home to them, many never even knew where their soldier's remains were; their names amongst thousands engraved on the Vimy memorial.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">“Here ends the roll of 11,285 Canadians who gave their lives in the Great War but the site of whose graves is unknown.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Grave unknown.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">All they had was a telegram.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Just a telegram.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgANXuBmQiHo87JkMUslzNX0NQVCCeqojT-0OCPRsOaC6aP_lkxAIVkAoA-ylKmU9KCFe0ZZyrE51yU561VtaL86Q6WSk6BQ5x9HS7uRbFH4YTOG8OkHzqtj4HjzH-GybWWhKAjbRNgH8e4/s900/1564948_5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="754" data-original-width="900" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgANXuBmQiHo87JkMUslzNX0NQVCCeqojT-0OCPRsOaC6aP_lkxAIVkAoA-ylKmU9KCFe0ZZyrE51yU561VtaL86Q6WSk6BQ5x9HS7uRbFH4YTOG8OkHzqtj4HjzH-GybWWhKAjbRNgH8e4/s320/1564948_5.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /><span><br /></span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">They were alone, left to get on with the business of living; their loss an unspoken shadow in their eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Many of them would endure more losses as a result of the Spanish Flu Pandemic of 1918, compounding their tragedy and further complicating their grief. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">These women were the very definition of resiliency, and strength, and courage.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">And I am humbled to walk in their footsteps.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Today on the 104th Anniversary of the Battle of Vimy Ridge, let us not just remember those brave soldiers who fought and those who were lost at Vimy, but let us also remember those they left behind— the widows, the children, the mothers, and fathers of Vimy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Remember the soldiers’ sacrifice.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">And remember their family’s loss.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">For we are they and they are us.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL4BIu1AjM_dmvC7X5b69oUmkFGPF0on8_PohcGDVoB4no0gCCEGIRaEVcPHkRwrbDgDUgocBqnp1SMM2rExhDSuWPS3lwlGasdA1EtPd8JYF5AofjnNvrLNBotMmyAEbOczGxOlq0Aj2y/s254/Widows+and+wives+of+Canadian+soldiers+attend+the+unveiling+of+the+Vimy+Ridge+Memorial_+%2528National+Archives+of+Canada+PA+148874%2529+WW1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="199" data-original-width="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL4BIu1AjM_dmvC7X5b69oUmkFGPF0on8_PohcGDVoB4no0gCCEGIRaEVcPHkRwrbDgDUgocBqnp1SMM2rExhDSuWPS3lwlGasdA1EtPd8JYF5AofjnNvrLNBotMmyAEbOczGxOlq0Aj2y/s0/Widows+and+wives+of+Canadian+soldiers+attend+the+unveiling+of+the+Vimy+Ridge+Memorial_+%2528National+Archives+of+Canada+PA+148874%2529+WW1.jpg" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Widows and Wives of Vimy</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, "ヒラギノ角ゴ Pro W3", "Hiragino Kaku Gothic Pro", メイリオ, Meiryo, "MS Pゴシック", Arial, sans-serif, "Apple Color Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol"" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: #111111;"><span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>(National Archives of Canada PA 148874) <p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p>Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532675034081685777.post-77981367519125741092021-04-05T18:13:00.002-03:002022-10-17T17:09:10.593-03:00For Canadian Military Widows, There Is No Day of Recognition<div class="kvgmc6g5 cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfBJQRKFbvOlxyvwrsUS4TctMGMrfGeEsivaB6dis6lT3b_ocklZKvm4hGI6cCmp6XzC8c-Oq7eUvC_mLKC-kz5sLrtLcZM9yhbPrIOb85UmRRTxLPfmoYwIxrZHNb56ZpcCzjxHPZd-Ns/s750/169555481_295360405290977_3699386084880451262_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="562" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfBJQRKFbvOlxyvwrsUS4TctMGMrfGeEsivaB6dis6lT3b_ocklZKvm4hGI6cCmp6XzC8c-Oq7eUvC_mLKC-kz5sLrtLcZM9yhbPrIOb85UmRRTxLPfmoYwIxrZHNb56ZpcCzjxHPZd-Ns/s320/169555481_295360405290977_3699386084880451262_n.jpg" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">April 5th is Gold Star Spouses’ Day in the United States in recognition of the sacrifices made by the surviving (Gold Star) spouses of fallen service members.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">In Canada, we don’t have a title or a special day of recognition for our military widows and widowers. Rather, they are given a Memorial Cross "as a memento of personal loss and sacrifice” on the part of their service member.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #050505;">So today, let us also take a moment here in Canada to acknowledge the ultimate sacrifice made by our Memorial Cross Widows (and Widowers).<br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #050505;">All military spouses (and families) make incredible sacrifices for their spouse’s career and by extension, our country.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">But military widows carry the heaviest burden of all. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">They carry the weight of a folded flag and their loss with them, for the rest of their lives. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">They are the ones left to pick up the pieces of broken hearts and families after their spouse dies.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Long after the funeral flowers have wilted and the casseroles are all eaten; still, they grieve. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">They endure sleepless nights, shed countless tears, and try to make sense of it all. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">They face the abyss of loneliness and despair, and sadly, some of them don’t make it through. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Eventually, they find acceptance and move forward with their lives.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">But they are never the same.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Their loss changes them; their sadness woven into the fabric of the person they have become.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">They stand up to judgment and criticism and champion change, so that things might be better for the next widow. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">They are Afghanistan widows and accidental widows. They are ALS and cancer widows and they are suicide widows.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">They are the ones who gave birth alone and they are the mothers of infants left to bring up children who will never know their fathers.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">They are mothers of teenagers, older children, and every age in between.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Sometimes they are overwhelmed with the responsibility of only parenting.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">And some of them are left to grieve the children they never got to have.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">They are army, air force, and navy spouses.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">And some of them wear a uniform themselves.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">They live in military communities and civilian ones. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">They are your neighbours, though you may not even know it; their loss too painful for them to ever discuss.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">They are your friends and my friends. And yes, they are even me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">For them, for us, Remembrance Day isn’t just one day, it’s every day. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Because we can never, ever forget.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">We are the memory keepers— determined that our spouse’s name never be forgotten, that their sacrifice not be in vain.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">We are incredibly courageous, resilient, strong women (and men). <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">And though we belong to a club we never wanted to be a part of, we are stronger because of each other.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">The next time you think of a fallen soldier, please take a minute to remember the spouse they left behind, for they too made an incredible sacrifice for their country. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">We were wives and husbands once. But widows we will always be.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; margin: 0cm; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></p></div></div>Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532675034081685777.post-84332414433431042342021-03-08T16:23:00.002-04:002022-10-17T17:09:29.855-03:00My Marital Status Does Not Define Me And Neither Do You<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCyFPuU6jUv3mbt5nroNrxw6Hd5CjmbPQEPz7cs2sR-CRLofub2lcieNcXSn-SI_nWJaisXx8DPXkoZaPnSWdcOqaOlbqwDDt792RgToWUAh9y1not_uBvnM9moB51WPtNKz0lby2fRzba/s2048/Monica-++In+Studio+Feb+7+2019+%252836%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1363" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCyFPuU6jUv3mbt5nroNrxw6Hd5CjmbPQEPz7cs2sR-CRLofub2lcieNcXSn-SI_nWJaisXx8DPXkoZaPnSWdcOqaOlbqwDDt792RgToWUAh9y1not_uBvnM9moB51WPtNKz0lby2fRzba/s320/Monica-++In+Studio+Feb+7+2019+%252836%2529.jpg" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">As women, we are often marginalized, but as widowed women, we are even more so.</span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">We are the invisible ones, the others.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">Thrust into a role we never asked for or wanted.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">We are harshly judged and criticized by many; usually by those who have never experienced such a devastating loss.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">There is so much shame in widowhood.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">Shame in our grief.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">Shame in our brokenness.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">Shame in our return to joy.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">Shame in our loving again.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">Shame in our living.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">Either we move on too soon or not soon enough. Never mind we never actually do “move on”, we move forward.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">Either we grieve too much or not enough. Never mind that it’s impossible to measure feelings of grief and loss.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">I have felt the sting of shame too many times since I was widowed.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">I let that judgment push me down.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">I even justified my choices and my happiness to those who deserved no explanations from me.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">Until I learned a valuable lesson: shame begets shame. When you shame me, you hurt yourself in the process.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">I won’t let you use me to feed your own bitterness and negativity.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">I won’t allow your ignorance to determine my worth or my belonging.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">I won’t betray myself to avoid your criticism.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">I won’t hide how I feel or who I am.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">I am so done feeling ashamed.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">I won’t be ashamed of my grief or my happiness.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">I won’t be ashamed of my tears or my laughter.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">I won’t be ashamed of my successes or my failures.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">I won’t be ashamed for surviving and then thriving.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">I won’t be ashamed of living MY life to the fullest.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">And I most definitely will never be ashamed of my heart.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">This. is. me.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">Unabashedly.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">Yes, I am a widow.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">But my marital status does not define me.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">And neither do you.</span></span>Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532675034081685777.post-49807930907386019362021-02-17T16:42:00.001-04:002022-10-17T17:09:56.274-03:0050 Things I learned After I was Widowed<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH2ca_UiJ_fIu_aiW6z7GDoxOdTE8omQjlxb7DdQ4tKqlzyRMEpDs2cyYSXVD816ygxWhK-zxYItqRsty_qzbQiI7_19XBBvePYTUiKY1CyjIGO8uf5l5zDf9dWVtkSydHkzHJc3r5XLli/s750/52572741_2108334415913058_1521627962883964928_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="498" data-original-width="750" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH2ca_UiJ_fIu_aiW6z7GDoxOdTE8omQjlxb7DdQ4tKqlzyRMEpDs2cyYSXVD816ygxWhK-zxYItqRsty_qzbQiI7_19XBBvePYTUiKY1CyjIGO8uf5l5zDf9dWVtkSydHkzHJc3r5XLli/s320/52572741_2108334415913058_1521627962883964928_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Today is my 50th birthday. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And believe it or not, I am alright with that.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Honestly.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I am so alright with that. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I consider myself very lucky to be 50.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So many people don’t even make it to 50, their lives tragically cut short far too soon. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">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. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I was one of those people until tragedy completely changed my life and me. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After my husband died, I had to rebuild my life and myself. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It took a lot of grief and a lot of hard work for me to get to where I am today. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I’m far from perfect, and I’ve certainly made my share of mistakes. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">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.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In fact, I am emotionally, mentally, and physically healthier than I ever was when Dan was alive. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And I can honestly say, I’m the happiest I’ve been in years.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">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.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Death truly is life’s greatest teacher. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Death challenged me in every way possible. It took away everything I believed in and forced me to confront my worst fears. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And yet, it also made me appreciate each and every moment. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It has shown me the power of vulnerability and the importance of gratitude. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And it has made me love more fiercely than I ever thought possible.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Death has made me more resilient, and stronger than I ever thought I could be. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And it has made me wiser.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I have learned so many valuable life lessons in the six years since Dan died. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You may say they are clichés, but there’s a reason why clichés are </span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">written.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I learned the truth of these 50 life lessons the hardest way possible.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 1. Life isn’t fair, but it’s still good.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 2. Growing old beats the alternative – dying young.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 3. You have to let go of the life you thought you’d have and make happiness in the life you do have. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 4. No one else can make you happy. Only you can do that.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 5. Those who complain the most, accomplish the least.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 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. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 7. You can’t change the past. Learn from it, then let it go. Before it destroys your present. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 8. Nobody can rescue you but you. Get up and be your own damn hero.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 9. You have to keep laughing, it really is the best medicine.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">10. Yelling never helps, it usually makes things worse.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 11. Blame is the favorite pastime of those who dislike responsibility.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 12. You are more than enough. When you realize your worth, it will change everything.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 13. You don’t know what you don’t know. Nobody has all the answers. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 14. You can’t numb the pain, and it just makes it worse when you try. Sadly, gin is not always your friend. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 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.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 16. Your grief is your grief, only you truly know what you are feeling. And you are not obligated to share it with anyone.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 17. Stop caring what other people think. Seriously. There will always be people who judge you. Their opinion doesn’t matter. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 18. Don’t compare your life to others’. You have no idea what their journey is all about.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 19. Not everyone will be there to support you. Let them go. They aren’t your people. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 20. Sometimes people show up in your life just when you need them the most. Serendipity is a beautiful thing.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 21. Everyone needs a tribe to support them, in good times and in bad.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 22. It’s okay to ask for help, it doesn’t make you weak, it makes you strong.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 23. Self-care is not indulgent, it’s necessary.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 24. Material objects are just that – objects. What you own is not who you are. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 25. Less really is more, except when it comes to coffee, of course.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 26. Coffee won’t fix it. But it will help. Be kind to the baristas of the world.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 27. Exercise is just as important for your mental health as it is your physical health.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 28. Just 15 minutes of exercise will have a positive impact on your attitude. Put down your phone and go for a walk. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 29. Vulnerability is a strength, not a weakness.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 30. Sometimes you need to go somewhere to discover where you don’t want to be.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 31. Sometimes you accidentally find your purpose, but your purpose is never an accident.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 32. You get what you give. Be there for others when they need you. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 33. Gratitude completely changes your outlook and your heart.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 34. There is always something to be grateful for. Even on the worst of days. You’re still here, aren’t you?</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 35. Sometimes you have to say no.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 36. And sometimes you have to say yes.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 37. Wishing things were different is a great way to torture yourself.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 38. You’ll never know if you never ask. If you don’t ask, you don’t get.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 39. It’s okay to be scared. Do it anyway. That’s courage.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 40. Stop waiting for the perfect time. There is no perfect time, there is only now.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 41. Regret is the price you pay for fear. Fear isn’t worth the price.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 42. Grief is the price you pay for love. Love is so worth the price.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 43. Shattered hearts do heal. You will love again if you are brave enough to let love find you.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 44. Time spent with people you love is never wasted time.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 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.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 46. Loss teaches you the true value of time. It really is much shorter than you think.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 47. Eat the chocolate. Burn the candles. Wear the perfume. Life is too damn short.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 48. The little things that annoy you so much often become the things you miss the most about someone when they are gone.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 49. All that truly matters, in the end, is that you loved.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> 50. Get busy living or get busy dying. The choice is yours.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The choice has always been yours. Just like it was always mine. </span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">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.</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Live it now.</span></div></div>Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532675034081685777.post-42309259808538656142021-02-09T20:11:00.003-04:002022-10-17T17:10:20.843-03:007 Ways to Support a Widow on Valentine's Day.<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitVK-UPNr9LlKyrjfnu3uAj7NsGW0FRGr_4dnEF9-NFZygoDFabAMBL3vt2Tkl-IlCkt03QIH5klOC5yI9jY4OC6lZtl5-aNYWuWJVZiqjm1J0MVVYqH_mmJb_2QAzphUxATP7lh3v7r3N/s719/0B3C09DE-C526-42A3-BB8B-1CE9BF6ED8B7.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="719" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitVK-UPNr9LlKyrjfnu3uAj7NsGW0FRGr_4dnEF9-NFZygoDFabAMBL3vt2Tkl-IlCkt03QIH5klOC5yI9jY4OC6lZtl5-aNYWuWJVZiqjm1J0MVVYqH_mmJb_2QAzphUxATP7lh3v7r3N/s320/0B3C09DE-C526-42A3-BB8B-1CE9BF6ED8B7.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br />Love is in the air. And in the stores. And in every social media newsfeed.</span><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">It’s as if the whole world has vomited a sappy spew of pink and red.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">And for many, all of the pink and red and hearts and flowers are nothing but salt in a wound.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">For the widowed, this is especially true.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">For those mourning the loss of their partner, Valentine's Day can feel particularly cruel because it emphasizes togetherness, love, and romance.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">It is yet another painful reminder of their aloneness.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Particularly during these Covid times when so many are isolated from their family and support groups.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">There are some ways you can make this Valentine’s Day a little brighter for the widow(s) in your life.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><ol>
<li style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">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.</span></li>
</ol><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><ol start="2">
<li style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">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.</span></li>
</ol><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><ol start="3">
<li style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">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.</span></li>
</ol><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><ol start="4">
<li style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">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. </span></li>
</ol><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><ol start="5">
<li style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">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.</span></li>
</ol><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><ol start="6">
<li style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">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.</span></li>
</ol><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><ol start="7">
<li style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">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. </span></li>
</ol><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">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. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">You can't fix anything, but remember even the smallest, simplest of gestures can touch a widow's heart on Valentine’s Day.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">And it's often these small acts of kindness that mean the most.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">To learn more about grief, resiliency, and life after loss, follow Monica on Facebook:<a href="https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/">https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/</a></span></p>Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532675034081685777.post-47646780190271128082020-02-17T17:06:00.001-04:002022-10-17T17:11:00.041-03:0049 Things I Learned After I Was Widowed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4SoE9RdIhFml8LT5vc7oBCNZSlrAdPZDOus7vZFJvbEZxszHbQDvct9IF5MFAHJEl7_yvkTZH7QryG2Jky3WW-eJwbhJ2NjlWaw4tev8PDXQ32DiY-SR4z00P7L07pTum4Zb0V22l2J29/s1600/Monica-++In+Studio+Feb+7+2019+%252831%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1065" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4SoE9RdIhFml8LT5vc7oBCNZSlrAdPZDOus7vZFJvbEZxszHbQDvct9IF5MFAHJEl7_yvkTZH7QryG2Jky3WW-eJwbhJ2NjlWaw4tev8PDXQ32DiY-SR4z00P7L07pTum4Zb0V22l2J29/s320/Monica-++In+Studio+Feb+7+2019+%252831%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">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.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">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.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">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.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">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.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">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.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I learned the truth of these 49 life lessons the hardest way possible.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">1. Life isn’t fair, but it’s still good.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">2. Growing old beats the alternative – dying young.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">3. You have to let go of the life you thought you’d have and make happiness in the life you do have.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">4. No one else can make you happy. Only you can do that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">5. Happiness is a choice and you have to work at it every day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">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.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">7. You can’t change the past. Learn from it, then let it go. Before it destroys your present.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">8. Nobody can rescue you but you. Get up and be your own damn hero.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">9. You have to keep laughing, it really is the best medicine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">10. You are more than enough. When you realize your worth, it will change everything.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">11. You don’t know what you don’t know. Nobody has all the answers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">12. You can’t numb the pain, and it just makes it worse when you try. Sadly, gin is not always your friend.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">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.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">14. Your grief is your grief, only you truly know what you are feeling. And you are not obligated to share it with anyone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">15. Stop caring what other people think. Seriously. There will always be people who judge you. Their opinion doesn’t matter.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">16. Don’t compare your life to others’. You have no idea what their journey is all about.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">17. Not everyone will be there to support you. Let them go. They aren’t your people.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">18. Sometimes people show up in your life just when you need them the most. Serendipity is a beautiful thing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">19. Everyone needs a tribe to support them, in good times and in bad.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">20. It’s okay to ask for help, it doesn’t make you weak, it makes you strong.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">21. Self-care is not indulgent, it’s necessary.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">22. Material objects are just that – objects. What you own is not who you are.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">23. Less really is more, except when it comes to coffee, of course.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">24. Coffee won’t fix it. But it will help. Be kind to the baristas of the world.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">25. Exercise is just as important for your emotional health as it is for your physical health.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">26. Just 15 minutes of exercise will have a positive impact on your attitude. Put down your phone and go for a walk.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">27. Vulnerability is a strength, not a weakness.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">28. Sometimes you need to go somewhere to discover where you don’t want to be.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">29. You can never truly go home because home is not the same and neither are you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">30. Sometimes you accidentally find your purpose, but your purpose is never an accident.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">31. You get what you give. Be there for others when they need you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">32. Gratitude completely changes your outlook and your heart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">33. There is always something to be grateful for. Even on the worst of days. You’re still here, aren’t you?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">34. Sometimes you have to say no.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">35. And sometimes you have to say yes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">36. Some things and some people are totally worth the risk.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">37. You’ll never know if you never ask. If you don’t ask, you don’t get.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">38. It’s okay to be scared. Do it anyway. That’s courage.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">39. Stop waiting for the perfect time. There is no perfect time, there is only now.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">40. Regret is the price you pay for fear. Fear isn’t worth the price.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">41. Grief is the price you pay for love. Love is so worth the price.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">42. Shattered hearts do heal. You will love again if you are brave enough to let love find you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">43. Time spent with people you love is never wasted time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">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.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">45. Loss teaches you the true value of time. It really is much shorter than you think.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">46. Eat the chocolate. Burn the candles. Wear the perfume. Life is too damn short.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">47. The little things that annoy you so much often become the things you miss the most about someone when they are gone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">48. All that truly matters, in the end, is that you loved.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">49. Get busy living or get busy dying. The choice is yours.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The choice has always been yours. Just like it was always mine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">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.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Live it now.</span></div>
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Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532675034081685777.post-26911308490760497212020-02-07T23:05:00.008-04:002022-10-17T17:11:52.652-03:00Bittersweet Birthdays<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpcddxDjAOEVrE3qlZkYRN6IZ4KDZIBEkEtGU75029iWavg8qsOV00a-DNtKY0KMMdJkmirr6gaMtxfxlHiJwRZYDt2GOux3_3LaMIzgf9wRL0KAWixYiIk0B2XdyUFoixKme46sj1ByBb/s1600/84163523_2750748908338269_8177926251969773568_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="691" data-original-width="691" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpcddxDjAOEVrE3qlZkYRN6IZ4KDZIBEkEtGU75029iWavg8qsOV00a-DNtKY0KMMdJkmirr6gaMtxfxlHiJwRZYDt2GOux3_3LaMIzgf9wRL0KAWixYiIk0B2XdyUFoixKme46sj1ByBb/s320/84163523_2750748908338269_8177926251969773568_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 14px;">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.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 14px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 14px;">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</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 14px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 14px;">When Dan died, so many people told me</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-size: 14px;"> 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. </span></span><br />
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-size: 14px;">“Hello Old Man. I’m your Dad.”<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.”<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Happy Birthday, Old Man. Thank God you have better taste in glasses than your Dad did.</span></span>Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532675034081685777.post-69608728017026186982019-08-05T14:02:00.001-03:002022-10-17T17:12:29.030-03:00A Widow's Companion<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIOcmKfhX0gtwtepm9mBYIlk1qOUlhXJnGowbAMkerH19gx-Xs3IvFGYm_SF4iN3YchSzTb2vdNJkwDWw-wYgLtvGx9URHB1miolal983W69mylIdRHs7upcnwGwFC05chfpyVLWYZzNwX/s1600/67544420_2364813630265134_3486126053951275008_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="562" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIOcmKfhX0gtwtepm9mBYIlk1qOUlhXJnGowbAMkerH19gx-Xs3IvFGYm_SF4iN3YchSzTb2vdNJkwDWw-wYgLtvGx9URHB1miolal983W69mylIdRHs7upcnwGwFC05chfpyVLWYZzNwX/s320/67544420_2364813630265134_3486126053951275008_n.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">There’s a cute little two-bedroom brick bungalow beside my house, the kind that would be perfect for an older retired couple.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But it’s not. It was a bungalow built for one.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Her diminutive stature belies an indomitable spirit that even the biggest, burliest man would envy. That I envy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It’s always no.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">“Thank you for asking, but I’m good.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We both know this is a lie. She is far from good.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">She’s so determined to keep going.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">“You have to keep going, Monica. You can’t stop.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And so she goes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">“They’re pretty good, even for a fish snob.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">She already knows me so well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">“But what happens when I start chemo again?”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I try to swallow my own.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I ask her if she would like some help, but I know before I even ask what her answer will be.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">She turns and hobbles down the sidewalk towards her house.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And then fear closes in on me like a thick, dense fog.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Fear, the widow’s companion. Always lurking, waiting to make its presence known.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It is always there.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It is never far away.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But some days. Some days that battle exhausts me. And fear is not quite so willing to say goodbye.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Today is one of those days.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Today this is my truth:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">There are times I am afraid.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Deeply afraid.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Afraid that my children will lose me too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Afraid of a future alone.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Afraid I will never again find that person who will love me until the end.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Afraid that someday, I will be the widow hobbling home to an empty house on badly blistered feet.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I wait until I know she is safely inside.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I exhale the breath I didn’t know I was holding as I unlock my front door, glancing next door one last time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Keep going Monica, I whisper.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A lone tear escapes my eye and rolls ever so slowly down my cheek.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Just keep going.</span></div>
Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532675034081685777.post-75164145019285079062019-02-26T14:25:00.001-04:002022-10-17T17:13:17.788-03:0048 Things I Learned After I Was Widowed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
by Monica Bobbitt</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">I turned 48 a little over a week ago. Forty-freaking-eight. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">And believe it or not, I am alright with that.</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /><br />Honestly.<br /><br />I am so alright with that. I consider myself very lucky to be 48.<br /><br />So many people don’t even make it to 48, their lives tragically cut short far too soon.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />I was one of those people until tragedy completely changed my life and me.<br /><br />After my husband died, I had to rebuild my life and myself.<br /><br />It took a lot of grief and a lot of hard work for me to get to where I am today.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />In fact, I am emotionally, mentally, and physically healthier than I ever was when Dan was alive.<br /><br />And I can honestly say, I’m the happiest I’ve been in years.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Death truly is life’s greatest teacher.<br /><br />Death challenged me in every way possible. It took away everything I believed in and forced me to confront my worst fears.<br /><br />And yet, it also made me appreciate each and every moment. It has shown me the power of vulnerability and the importance of gratitude.<br /><br />And it has made me love more fiercely than I ever thought possible.<br /><br />Death has made me more resilient, and stronger than I ever thought I could be.<br /><br />And it has made me wiser.<br /><br />I have learned so many valuable life lessons in the five years since Dan died.<br /><br />You may say they are clichés, but there’s a reason why clichés are<br />written.<br /><br />I learned the truth of these 48 life lessons the hardest way possible.<br /><br />1. You don’t know what you don’t know. Nobody has all the answers.<br /><br />2. Nobody can rescue you but you. Get up and be your own damn hero.<br /><br />3. You have to let go of the life you thought you’d have and make happiness in the life you do have.<br /><br />4. No one else can make you happy. Only you can do that.<br /><br />5. Happiness is a choice and you have to work at it every day.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />7. You can’t change the past. Learn from it, then let it go. Before it destroys your present.<br /><br />8. Only parenting is the hardest job you will ever do, but the most rewarding.<br /><br />9. You have to keep laughing, it really is the best medicine.<br /><br />10. You are more than enough. When you realize your worth, it will change everything.<br /><br />11. Coffee won’t fix it. But it will help. Be kind to the baristas of the world.<br /><br />12. You can’t numb the pain, and it just makes it worse when you try. Sadly, gin is not always your friend.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />14. Your grief is your grief, only you truly know what you are feeling. And you are not obligated to share it with anyone.<br /><br />15. Stop caring what other people think. Seriously. There will always be people who judge you. Their opinion doesn’t matter.<br /><br />16. Not everyone will be there to support you. Let them go. They aren’t your people.<br /><br />17. Sometimes people show up in your life just when you need them the most. Serendipity is a beautiful thing.<br /><br />18. Everyone needs a tribe to support them, in good times and in bad.<br /><br />19. It’s okay to ask for help, it doesn’t make you weak, it makes you strong.<br /><br />20. Self-care is not indulgent, it’s necessary.<br /><br />21. Material objects are just that— objects. What you own is not who you are.<br /><br />22. Less really is more, except when it comes to coffee, of course.<br /><br />23. Exercise is just as important for your emotional health as it is for your physical health.<br /><br />24. Put down your phone and go for a walk. Even 15 minutes will have a positive impact on your attitude.<br /><br />25. And while you’re out there, stop and smell the roses. They only bloom for such a short period of time.<br /><br />26. Vulnerability is a strength, not a weakness.<br /><br />27. Sometimes you need to go somewhere to discover where you don’t want to be.<br /><br />28. You can never truly go home because home is not the same and neither are you.<br /><br />29. Sometimes you accidentally find your purpose, but your purpose is never an accident.<br /><br />30. Be there for others when they need you. You get what you give.<br /><br />31. Gratitude completely changes your outlook and your heart.<br /><br />32. There is always something to be grateful for. Even on the worst of days. You’re still here, aren’t you?<br /><br />33. Sometimes you have to say no.<br /><br />34. And sometimes you have to say yes.<br /><br />35. Some things and some people are totally worth the risk.<br /><br />36. You’ll never know if you never ask.<br /><br />37. It’s okay to be scared. Do it anyway. That’s courage.<br /><br />38. Stop waiting for the perfect time. There is no perfect time, there is only now.<br /><br />39. Regret is the price you pay for fear. Fear isn’t worth the price.<br /><br />40. Grief is the price you pay for love. Love is so worth the price.<br /><br />41. Shattered hearts do heal. You will love again if you are brave enough to let love find you.<br /><br />42. Time spent with people you love is never wasted time.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />44. Loss teaches you the true value of time. It really is much shorter than you think.<br /><br />45. Eat the chocolate. Burn the candles. Wear the perfume. Life is too damn short.<br /><br />46. The little things that annoy you so much often become the things you miss the most about someone when they are gone.<br /><br />47. All that truly matters, in the end, is that you loved.<br /><br />48. Get busy living or get busy dying. The choice is yours.<br /><br />The choice has always been yours. Just like it was always mine.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Live it now.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Monica</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">To learn more about grief, resiliency, and life after loss, follow Monica Bobbitt on Facebook:<a href="https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/">https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/</a></span>Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532675034081685777.post-31784907565033681402019-01-30T19:57:00.001-04:002019-01-30T20:00:30.541-04:00Let's Talk: One Family's Story of Mental Illness<div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">This incredibly moving story of one family's struggle with mental illness was submitted to me by a very courageous lady whom I am privileged to know and call a friend. Their story:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">The Bell Let’s Talk annual campaign day is here and once again our social media feeds become full of great posts and articles about the need to talk openly in order to reduce the stigma surrounding mental illness. Brave people share their stories and struggles. But there is a group of people who feel they can’t really talk about how mental illness affects them: they are the ones closest to a person with mental illness.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Oh, we do talk! We talk to friends and family for support. We talk in closed online support groups when family or friends don’t really understand. We talk to our doctors and to counselors and support workers. We talk in hushed voices in the grocery store aisle when we run into another person we know who is dealing with it in their family. But nobody talks about it out in the open or publicly online on designated Mental Health Awareness Days. Maybe it’s because we don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. Maybe it’s because it might create stigma for those struggling. But regardless of the reason, there are so many families in anguish and grief because of the severe mental illness of a loved one. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s not that the resources aren’t there for families. We can get counseling and support for all family members through various organizations. In fact, every article I’ve ever read aimed toward caregivers of someone with mental illness ends with a caring note to take care of one’s self and to seek out support. This is all well and good, but when the person causing the grief and stress, and in some cases trauma,won’t accept the help that they need, then how long does a family really benefit from support? Honestly, every time I read a line like this in an article, I want to scream, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“A fat lot of good me getting support does!” Sigh. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">One of the main causes of someone not getting the help they need is not stigma or shame or even outright stubbornness and denial. It’s actually a symptom of many types of mental illness. It’s called lack of insight. “The formal medical term for this medical condition is anosognosia, from the Greek meaning “to not know a disease.” When we talk about anosognosia in mental illness, we mean that someone is unaware of their own mental health condition or that they can’t perceive their condition accurately.” (NAMI – National Alliance on Mental Illness name.org)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If you are interested in learning and understanding more about this condition of mental illness, Dr. Xavier Amador has a great Ted talk that explains the frustration families have because of the condition when trying to help the person experiencing lack of insight. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Our Story: We (my kids and I) talk to one another behind closed doors and in private away from the person with mental Illness. That person is my husband and dad to our three kids. The problem is he hasn’t been the husband and dad we once knew him to be for a long time now and we are reaching our breaking point. And when a person changes like that and there is nothing that can be done to help them, the effects on a family are devastating. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He has been diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder with Psychosis/Schizoaffective disorder.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Because diagnosing mental illness is not fine-tuned to a science, the psychologist explained that the two titles differ in when the psychosis takes place (during depression or outside of it). Frankly, I can’t even tell when or if he is ever out of psychosis. It’s that bad now. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We’ve been together since we were teens. From his early twenties, he has had a handful of episodes. They always occurred around an event or life change (stress related probably): A surgery followed by what was called steroid-induced psychosis shortly after we were married. The birth of each of the kids. These episodes were labeled acute temporary psychosis. There was also a lot of drinking in the early years of our marriage (realizing now it was likely self-medicating for the mental health issues we didn’t realize he was having). The drinking came to an abrupt end when he came out of a couple of months long binge that resulted in some very hurtful actions. Ones we worked through and put behind us for the sake of the family and our love for each other. But unbeknownst to me the depression was probably always there lurking and I had no idea what was in store after a few happy years together. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I just have to say that though there are lots of conversations about depression, it appears in many different forms for different individuals. I didn’t know this until I joined a support group wondering if my husband was bipolar. I questioned it because he didn’t seem depressed! He gets up like clockwork every day without an alarm. Meanwhile, I’m desperately pressing my snooze button before I get up. He exercises and doesn’t look like the typical image of depression. But someone in the online support group told me that in men, depression can look different. It often appears as anger. Aah! That fit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Just more than four years ago, we decided to move. It was a big change! I was closing down my home daycare that I had run for eight years, allowing me time at home with our kids when they were young and heading back out into the world to look for a job outside the home. During the time waiting for the house to sell, he had a couple of panic attacks in the middle of the night. Looking back, I remember hints of paranoia but nothing that couldn’t be explained away.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It was also a stressful time due to my daycare closing down as we made plans to move but the house not selling as quickly as we’d hoped. When I got a job, I expected some happiness and relief, but the response I got from my husband was kind of blank. This puzzled me, but I carried on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Then came moving day, and we had all of the family out to help us. And he just stopped talking. If someone spoke to him, we got a goofy kind of grin and that was it. We lived for a few months in a new home, new schools for the kids, new community and a new zombie-like dad/husband. Needless to say, this was hard on the kids.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">One evening I became frustrated and asked him to please speak and explain what was going on. What came next was an outpouring of all the paranoid thoughts he’d been having: there were cameras in the house, someone was controlling his muscles and zapping them and making them weak. He talked until I couldn’t listen anymore. I was shocked and scared. In days and weeks to come, we just watched this person we knew and loved turn into someone we didn’t know. It was his body, but he wasn’t there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">About a year in came random rage episodes. Thankfully these were enough to elicit a trip to the doctor after he became violent and smashed some closet doors. He was given an antipsychotic medication and it worked wonders! I naively thought we were out of the woods! I was so relieved and ready and happy to carry on with a back to normal life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And then he stopped taking the pills.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Things began to decline again. He became more withdrawn and weird in his mannerisms. At this point, he was talking more to me though (maybe as a result of the medication for a few months). He shared with me incidents he was concerned about at work and told me how these feelings of rage would come up out of nowhere and they didn’t make any sense. He said that usually, something happens to trigger feelings of anger, but for him, it could be as simple as a coworker saying good morning. He’d feel like they were all up in his face and had to walk away or not respond in order to keep the rage suppressed. Eventually, that rage released. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We had just arrived back home from having dinner at his parents. I could see that he was in an episode of psychosis so I drove the car home instead of letting him drive us. When we got inside the house he smashed some things in the kitchen and then grabbed my phone out of my hand and smashed it on the table. I calmly told the kids to get in the car, grabbed the keys and his phone and left. We stayed overnight at a friend’s house. Once again, that was enough for him to see he was out of control and needed help. So we went together to talk to our family doctor. He prescribed an anti-depressant/anti-psychotic drug this time. The doctor also was obligated to put in a report to children’s aid. They came for an in-home visit the following week. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We discussed a family safety plan. I think it was all enough to make him feel obligated to take the medication. And once again, it was almost miraculous how this tiny white pill brought him back. I felt my whole being give a huge sigh of relief. But for some reason, he didn’t see it that way. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We had a good three months, and then he started into complaints about the side effects. I honestly think they were excuses. I noticed that the pill number count stopped going down one day, and I asked him about it. He felt he was fine now and didn’t need it. I cautiously said, “Okay . . . will you go back on if you start to feel bad again”. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes”, was the curt reply I got. Somehow I knew it wouldn’t happen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Funnily enough, the rage didn’t appear again. Or he was doing a really good job of suppressing it. That was the one issue that got him to agree to get help. If that was no longer an issue then all other symptoms were fine in his book. It’s ok that he doesn’t talk to anyone (like not even respond when spoken to). He says he’s changed. So we carried on and it was kind of like that analogy of a frog in water . . . </span><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The boiling frog is a fable describing a frog being slowly boiled alive. The premise is that if a frog is put suddenly into boiling water, it will jump out, but if the frog</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> is put in tepid </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">water</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> which is then brought to a </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">boil</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> slowly, it will not perceive the danger and will be cooked to death.</span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">That’s what it has felt like for our family the past two years. Eventually, I began to realize we were boiling and I needed to find help.</span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Help was there. But getting help for someone who doesn’t realize they are sick is next to impossible. </span><span style="background: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Short of talking to him, writing, having his parents come and do a group intervention, nothing has gotten through to him. We even did couples counseling because his interpretation of the family problems was that we were having marriage issues. She persuaded him to get a proper assessment done which is how he has a diagnosis now from a neuro psychologist. But his answer to everyone who tries to get him to get help is, “I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong with me. I don’t need medication”. Even discussing separation is not enough for him to get help. It’s like he has lost all normal social and emotional connections. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So here I am trying to wrap my head around the fact that my marriage is most likely over. I need to do what is best for the kids and me. There is the vow “in sickness and in health” to consider, but when does someone else’s health come before the health of a family. I have spent time feeling depressed myself (though nothing a good Netflix binge, some chocolate and red wine and a good time of rest can’t get me through thankfully). But I know that many spouses of someone with mental illness end up seeking help for their own mental health, and for the kids also. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I have grieved over the loss of the person I love. There is nothing like having him physically before you but gone at the same time. It’s devastating. It’s grief mixed with hope that then gets dashed because of the system. </span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Even our family doctor agreed that the laws have swayed too far in giving individuals full rights over themselves in this condition. It doesn’t take into <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He may lose his job. He is probably going to lose his family (we will always be there for him but we can’t continue to live with him like this). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And nothing can be done. Because he is not a threat to himself or to others. That’s because he has become so good at suppressing emotions that he doesn’t really seem to have any. Not mad, not sad, not anything. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Monica writes about grief and I have gained so much comfort from many of her posts. I’ve asked her to share my story so that people like me can become part of the “Let’s talk” initiative. I know people don’t have a clue because I certainly didn’t. Until you experience someone with this level of mental illness, you really can’t understand it. It’s grief. It’s loss. It’s painful and frustrating. It’s not really okay to talk about when you’re on this side of the mental illness fence. That’s why I’m signing this anonymously. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Here is a drawing that our 12-year-old son drew because sometimes a picture tells a thousand words. </span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He said, “This is dad. He thinks he is strong but he is really falling apart.” </span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This is mental illness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.com76tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532675034081685777.post-30858968142452462352019-01-20T21:54:00.001-04:002022-10-17T17:13:46.779-03:00Please Stop Calling Yourself A Football Widow<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwohaij5jV1J65cKSFn5TNdkm1aZwflLehyphenhypheneR2HmuPGR2w3fOP8z4qz_31au8bJW83XzbYtBTFpMGTrPEbgvsVCuVAZke02hkgcDraYmlTV7AoNbKidgqdEMv3UiGcVwbAS0Bi_mznxT1P/s1600/50210513_2045361148877052_9162389741839056896_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="720" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwohaij5jV1J65cKSFn5TNdkm1aZwflLehyphenhypheneR2HmuPGR2w3fOP8z4qz_31au8bJW83XzbYtBTFpMGTrPEbgvsVCuVAZke02hkgcDraYmlTV7AoNbKidgqdEMv3UiGcVwbAS0Bi_mznxT1P/s320/50210513_2045361148877052_9162389741839056896_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Please stop calling yourself a football widow. Or a hockey widow or golf widow or hunting widow or a widow of any form.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Just don’t.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As an actual real-life widow (of the military variety), I can’t even fathom why anyone would refer to themselves, jokingly or otherwise, as a widow when they are not.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When you joke about it or use the expression to complain about your husband’s hobbies, you diminish what thousands and thousands of women (and men) go through every day. Widowhood is no joking matter, although it does have it’s darkly humorous moments. It’s tragic and devastating, and lifelong. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It doesn’t just last one sports season, it lasts all of them. Forever.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Widowhood is excruciatingly painful, a pain that rocks the very fiber of your being. It’s overwhelmingly sad. It’s profoundly quiet and empty. And the loneliest thing you could ever experience. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Trust me on this— you do not want to ever call yourself a widow. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And I hope you never have to.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I do know how annoying it can be when your husband is consumed by football or hockey or any other hobby. Or by their job. My husband was in the army for our entire married lives. Lord knows I get the challenges of being alone for extended periods. Of running a household. And of single parenting. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I know it’s frustrating when all he wants to talk about is his fantasy team when you need to talk about your real life home team. I know you feel like you are doing all the work while he gets to relax and hang with his buddies. I totally understand your frustrations. I really have been there. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But that all pales in comparison to widowhood.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My late husband wasn’t much for watching sports, in fact, he never watched football at all, unless we were invited to a Grey Cup or Super Bowl party. But he was an avid mountain biker. There were days he would disappear on his bike for hours and hours on end. And there were days, too many days, it would irritate the hell out of me. Sometimes he would return home bloodied and bruised from an argument with a tree, and I’d shake my head and chastise him for not being more careful (a recurring theme in our house). Often I was annoyed because I was left to do all the running around with the kids. And even worse, there were times he’d load his bike into our only vehicle and go for the entire day, leaving me stranded at home, alone, to yet again entertain three kids.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">For the last almost five years, his beloved bike has sat in my garage gathering dust. There is a brand new set of never-used winter tires on the floor beside it. How excited he was when he picked those tires up, he couldn’t wait to try them out. He never did. Because he never got another winter.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Wh</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">en I look back now, I wish I hadn’t been so resentful. I wish I hadn’t complained so much when he went mountain biking. I wish I could have seen how important it really was to him. And appreciated how much he loved it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But I can’t go back. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Instead of complaining about your husband’s football obsession, be grateful you still have a husband. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Relish the yelling and cheering and the smell of chili and nachos. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Because those little things that drive you crazy? You will miss them so much when they are gone. More than you can possibly know.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Instead of being resentful of whatever hobby your husband has, be thankful that he loves it so much.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And the next time you start to refer to yourself as a widow of any form, stop.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Think of the bike gathering dust in my garage. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Remember there is a permanent season far worse than any sporting season. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And be very thankful you are not actually a widow.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">To learn more about grief, resiliency, and life after loss, follow Monica on Facebook:<a href="https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/">https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/</a></span>Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.com320tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532675034081685777.post-23277615097198769862018-10-15T15:57:00.001-03:002022-10-17T17:14:23.899-03:00What Remembrance Day Should Be About<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjivWHlfgwcpuOpPxBbQeOxOpapht5VJYYXuhySn1yO0g6OElCgn3p2A30F42gDouGz-2eXSzbZaLZXQFnr-ZTHqxLs_GCaQ_6KtBuNVmVg7SLEZYurXFNEK9_rpL3pSDzDBb2zxerK69u7/s1600/11282491_10153337884108669_1386964958_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjivWHlfgwcpuOpPxBbQeOxOpapht5VJYYXuhySn1yO0g6OElCgn3p2A30F42gDouGz-2eXSzbZaLZXQFnr-ZTHqxLs_GCaQ_6KtBuNVmVg7SLEZYurXFNEK9_rpL3pSDzDBb2zxerK69u7/s320/11282491_10153337884108669_1386964958_o.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The days are getting shorter. The leaves have almost reached their peak and have started to gently fall from the trees.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The fall decorations have been replaced in the stores by Christmas lights and baubles.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And the whispers of discontent have begun. In another week those whispers will increase to a buzz that will eventually morph into heated arguments.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">How quickly we forget how much we have to be grateful for. How quickly we refocus our attention on criticizing others.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">How quickly we forget what this time should really be about it.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And who it should be about.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’ve come to dread this time of year, this time between Thanksgiving and Remembrance Day.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A time when my heart becomes heavier.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">While everyone becomes so consumed by their righteousness, however well-intentioned it may be, I have to wonder.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Because sometimes it seems like I hear more about the rightness and wrongness of Christmas lights and decorations or I hear more anti-Remembrance Day propaganda than I do about the actual people we are supposed to be Remembering and honouring.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When did all of this stuff become the most important things we focus on in November?</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And I wonder. Do they truly comprehend the enormity of it all?</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">But how could they really, how could anyone if they’ve never lived it firsthand.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">You can have glimpses, absolutely. I did on all of those Remembrances Days past.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">But standing at the cenotaph as a wife is nothing like standing there as a widow. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s nothing like being the person who lives with the loss every single day.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Not just on one dreary day in November. But on all of the days.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">For so many of us, too many of us, every day is Remembrance Day.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So over the next few weeks, while my newsfeed fills with anti-Remembrance Day and anti-military articles, with debates about the red poppy glorifying war and the white poppy of peace, and with arguments about Christmas lights being disrespectful, and the value of the Legion, those won’t be the things I’m focused on.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Instead, I’ll be here trying to decide if today is the day I’m actually ready to visit my husband’s grave at the National Military Cemetery.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I haven’t been there since the day he was buried four years ago. I’ve been to his private grave at home in Nova Scotia. But not here.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I haven’t been able to go there yet.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Here is so much heavier. Because It is laden with the grief of an entire regiment. And so many painful memories.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Do I go today? Do I go alone?</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I could ask my son or my friend who was Dan’s Battery Sergeant Major or any one of my friends to go with me, but I know how hard it would be for them to bear witness to my grief.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And some journeys, the hardest ones, you have to make on your own.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Those are the questions I’ll be asking myself. Not, why does my neighbour have Christmas lights up? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">When I go to his grave for the first time, I will undoubtedly relive that day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Some memories are indelibly etched on your soul.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">And as I stand in front of that granite headstone, my fingers tracing our name, I will see and feel it all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I will see my own sadness reflected in my friend’s eyes as he passes me a crisply folded flag, tears flowing freely down his cheeks.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I will fill the dirt slipping through my fingers. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I will hear echoes of the Last Post as soldiers two-by-two salute their commanding officer’s grave, their eyes avoiding mine lest they not be able to contain their own emotions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I will remember the heat and humidity. My feet were so swollen and sore, my shoes pinched my toes with every step. I just wanted to rip them off but I couldn’t. I had to teeter on through the pain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Just as I would on so many days in the months and years to come.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">And I will remember how exhausted I was and how I just wanted it to be all over. Not knowing that it is never, really over.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Please let it be over now. I can’t do this another day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I just want to go home. Even though home will never be the same.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">The next time you come across a meme or post about Remembrance Day, before you comment or share, or argue with a friend or </span>neighbour<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> I hope you pause for a moment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Pause for a moment and remember what it’s truly about. Who it’s truly about.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">And ask yourself— is what you’re sharing really </span>honouring<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> those who have died and those they left behind?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Pause.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Remember them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">And remember, somewhere out there, there is a widow trying to work up the courage to visit a cemetery.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Isn’t that what it should really be about?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Read Monica's thoughts on War Memorials in <a href="https://www.agoatrodeo.com/2017/10/odes-to-our-fallen.html">Odes to Our Fallen</a></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">To learn more about grief, resiliency, and life after loss, follow Monica on Facebook at <a href="https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/">A Goat Rodeo</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.com58tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532675034081685777.post-24086056849167926962018-06-17T09:23:00.000-03:002018-06-17T11:02:41.871-03:00My Other Dad<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
by Monica Bobbitt</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1TEdML8J1YbHceVMBNthsp2i0_q5CRKds950Vl_yhSG1cnMCEMJaO1g94ZMpxia-_KGAADJRAWCeObzo_1aYsODGryUQGTrLFBvESOD-jNs3yENSE7tY3NdLaDyiHSAF-Fx6ib18yVAPR/s1600/35531058_10155336762342260_276769612404621312_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1TEdML8J1YbHceVMBNthsp2i0_q5CRKds950Vl_yhSG1cnMCEMJaO1g94ZMpxia-_KGAADJRAWCeObzo_1aYsODGryUQGTrLFBvESOD-jNs3yENSE7tY3NdLaDyiHSAF-Fx6ib18yVAPR/s320/35531058_10155336762342260_276769612404621312_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Not all heroes wear capes. Sometimes they wear combat boots and camouflage (for 40 years). And sometimes they continue to wear those combat boots long after they retire, beret replaced by an old ball cap or a toque perched at a jaunty angle when it is cold. Well, at least my hero does anyway. And he also seems to have a penchant for striped shirts and sweaters. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">To say that I am fond of my father-in-law John would be a huge understatement. He is so much more than just my father-in-law, he is my other Dad. He is my friend and confidant, my idol and role model— my own personal hero. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">From the minute I started dating his son, John welcomed me with open arms. He was never Major (or Mr.) Bobbitt, he was simply John, until the birth of his first grandchild (my son) and then he became Papa.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">John is an incredible father. As a teenager, I was always a bit envious of Dan’s relationship with his dad because his father was so open and affectionate with him, while my dad tended to be more quiet and aloof. My dad was a kids-are-to-be-seen-not-heard kind of Dad, while John was completely the opposite. He was always interacting with his sons, whether it was taking them hunting or fishing, days spent at the lake or a board game around the table. He never missed an opportunity to spend time with his boys. I knew long before I married Dan he would be an incredible father because he had such an amazing role model in his dad.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And Dan really was like John in so many ways. He had his dad’s impish grin, and all of the qualities I so admired in him were inherited from his Dad— generosity, selflessness, humbleness, loyalty, and integrity. Dan also inherited his father’s wild, devil-may-care play hard ways, and though it might have irked me on more than one occasion, I couldn’t ever imagine Dan any other way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Before Dan deployed to Afghanistan, he told me that if anything ever happened to him, he knew the one person I could always count on, no matter what would be his Dad. He was not wrong.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">From the minute John first walked through my door the day after Dan was killed, he has always been there for me and the kids. Because he knew his son would want him to take care of us, and because he loves us that much. He loves me that much. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">John has been beside me every step of the way these last four years. Always supporting and guiding, never judging. Sometimes he understood the challenges I faced even before I did. He innately knew how difficult the transition from military wife to widow would be and when I struggled to find my place in the world after Dan, he reassured me that I would always be his family. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’m afraid you’re stuck with me,” he tells me on a regular basis. (I haven’t pointed out that also means he’s stuck with me.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I know without a doubt, no matter what, I can always turn to John. When I can’t see an issue clearly, he’s always there to provide me a much needed other perspective. And though there have been plenty of times I’ve doubted myself, he has never once lost faith in me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Darlin, I know there are times you’ve felt judged, but I’m here to tell you not one of us could have done it any better than you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So much of who I am today, I owe to John. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He is my number one fan and cheerleader. He was the one who encouraged me to start writing a blog, and he was the one who convinced me to speak in front of a group of soldiers (infanteers, no less) for the very first time. “They absolutely will find value in what you have to say. And you’re going to do it.” It's been over twenty years since he retired, but he takes a keen interest in the safety and well being of our soldiers and veterans. Once a soldier, always a soldier.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He was right, I did do it. And they did find value in what I said. Every life I have positively touched since that day can be directly attributed to him and his belief in me. He hasn't just impacted my life, he has impacted many. Far more than he will ever know.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">John celebrates my successes with me and is as proud of all I have accomplished as my own Dad was. And when I fall down, he is always there to help me back up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And more importantly than anything, he has always encouraged me to move forward with my life. Because above all else he wants me to be happy—for real happy, not just on the surface happy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">From moving to dating, he has always been fully supportive. He has even taken to giving me relationship advice, and though he makes an unlikely Ann Landers, he is surprisingly intuitive in this department. He has told me in no uncertain terms that when (not if) I find my other guy, I’d better be just as happy with him as I was with Dan. “Or else. I’ll be kicking you in the bum.” I have absolutely no doubt he means that. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">How fortunate am I to have someone who loves me that much? I am so very grateful for this man, my Dad who is not my Dad. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I recently told him that I told my kids if they ever need to know what their Dad would think about something, ask Papa. That’s as close as they will ever get. He was silent for a minute, cleared his throat, and said,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “Those are awfully big boots to fill.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I don’t know, from where I’m standing those footprints, though not identical, are pretty damn similar. Like father like son; like son like father.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You honor a man by how you treat his widow, and no one has honoured Dan more than his father has. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">It turns out that his father was an even bigger hero to Dan after he died than he was when Dan was a little boy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Happy Father’s Day Papa. You are the best Father-in-Law I could have ever gotten stuck with. Although, as you like to tell me quite often, there’s always room for improvement. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Love always,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Monica</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You can learn about Monica’s father in <a href="http://www.agoatrodeo.com/2017/08/see-you-later-old-man.html">See You Later Old Man</a>, </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">the eulogy she wrote for him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">To learn more about grief, resiliency, and life after loss, follow Monica Bobbitt on Facebook:<a href="https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/">https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532675034081685777.post-12555206446328135842018-05-09T19:11:00.003-03:002022-10-17T17:14:48.296-03:00Be Grateful For Those Combat Boots By the Doorby Monica Bobbitt<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp74YSphgWBwFXYuh-IWFrs9uSNpv2-G3wrslQhAwUrlsx8eQNR5-0jbWnJ4ivSZnU71frz-C-VcZzKdduJcFTaOIsJYWbzevRXTTufQCr2KCdMGp2UiWUNpUDcgU_H-Xtvt56jJPW3Kg6/s1600/32080630_10155262243117260_29507370216325120_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp74YSphgWBwFXYuh-IWFrs9uSNpv2-G3wrslQhAwUrlsx8eQNR5-0jbWnJ4ivSZnU71frz-C-VcZzKdduJcFTaOIsJYWbzevRXTTufQCr2KCdMGp2UiWUNpUDcgU_H-Xtvt56jJPW3Kg6/s320/32080630_10155262243117260_29507370216325120_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Four years ago today, I got up ridiculously early in the morning to say goodbye to my husband as he was leaving for a six-week training exercise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"What are you doing up? You didn't have to get up."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"I just wanted to say goodbye."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I gave him a hug and a kiss as he walked out the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"I love you. Have a good exercise. I'll see you in six weeks."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I locked the door and as I turned, I tripped over an extra pair of combat boots he had discarded on the floor. Muttering under my breath, I picked them up and threw them in the closet on my way back to bed. Just as I had a thousand times before over the previous twenty-one years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Later that morning, I followed the trail he’d left behind him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">An unfinished bowl of congealed oatmeal and blueberries on the dining room table beside his laptop that he forgot (or never bothered) to turn off. Half a cup of cold coffee on the counter by the dishwasher. Pajama pants in a heap at the top of the stairs by the living room (where one naturally would leave their pjs). A plastic army clipboard on the desk in the entryway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As I made my way around the house tidying up after him, I wondered if he would ever learn how to clean up after himself. He was a make-work project in so many ways. Never deliberately. He was just forgetful, and scattered, and a bit of a klutz. He was forever losing or spilling things.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I had absolutely no idea that was the last morning I would ever clean up after him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Or that he would never come home again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When someone we love dies, they leave a vast void in their stead. Where a life once existed, now only memories.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Those memories suddenly become our most precious possessions. We gather them close to our hearts and replay them over and over on a loop; like a movie reel of a life. We cling to them desperately, hoard them even, for they are all we have left of the person we lost.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We can’t help but think of all the memories that will never be made; all the should-have-beens and momentous occasions they will miss— graduations, weddings, grandchildren born.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We think of all the unfilled hopes and dreams; the aspirations and plans for the future that are now all gone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We think of the things they will never get to do, the trips they won’t get to take, things they won’t get to see.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But gone isn’t just those big momentous events or the things they’ll never do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Gone is so very much more than that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Gone is a thousand tiny seemingly insignificant, ordinary things that we took for granted every single day. Things we may have even once complained about.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Gone is no more dirty dishes: no half-eaten bowl of oatmeal, no cold cup of coffee<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Gone is no more pajamas abandoned in a pile in the most random spot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Gone is no more PT gear or uniforms to wash.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Gone is no more blackberry constantly buzzing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Gone is no combat boots in front of the door to trip over.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As I was leaving for my run this morning, I paused in the entryway by the door. I stopped and I listened to an echo of a memory,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Seriously Daniel, can’t you just once put your damn boots in the closet?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I looked down at the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There was nothing there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Just an empty space.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sometimes you don’t fully comprehend the significance of something so simple in your life until it is no longer there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">All too often we don’t appreciate how fortunate we are until what we have is gone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Not that we are purposely ungrateful. We just get so caught up in the chaos of life, so busy hurrying from one day to the next, we forget to stop and be grateful for all that we have.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And sometimes in all of the stress, all of the rushing to and fro, we don’t even see how much we have to be grateful for.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We don’t realize just how meaningful a pair of combat boots by the door really are.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We very rarely stop to think about what gone actually is because, well, we never really think it will happen to us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Gone isn’t just some throwaway term or trite cliché used to define the absence of someone. Gone is real, and it’s enduring.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And gone, it does happen to us. Randomly; unexpectedly. On a sunny May afternoon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Four years ago today I didn’t know the true meaning of gone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I didn’t know just how hard it would be to start over at 43.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I didn’t know about the challenges of only parenting three teenagers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I didn’t know about the long lonely years ahead of me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And I certainly didn’t know how profoundly sad an empty entryway can be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I locked the door behind me and as I turned, I caught one brief, final glance of the empty entryway through the window. I brushed away a tear. Just as I have a thousand times before over the last four years<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">What’s gone is gone, forever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As I ran down my street, I couldn’t help but wonder how many wives were muttering under their breath this morning as they tripped over a pair of combat boots.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Or how many husbands were grumbling because their wife bought yet another pair of shoes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s so easy to be annoyed by those things; to roll our eyes and shake our heads.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The inconvenience, the cost, the clutter. And why do your combat boots need to be there? Why can’t you put them away? And really who needs that many pairs of shoes? I don’t even want to know how much they cost.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It is only after they are gone that we realize their true value.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Gone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In one heartbreaking instant.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This morning stop for a moment and look around you. Take it all in— the combat boots, the laundry, the dirty dishes, the blackberry that never stops buzzing, the shoe collection.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Stop and think about what it all represents.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Appreciate it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Savour it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Now, while you still can, before it becomes but a memory.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And as you do, know just how fortunate you are to have it. Every annoying, ordinary, lovely bit of it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Because someday you might just find yourself like I was this morning, standing in an empty entryway with nothing but your memories, longing for the musty smell of mud and boot polish on a pair of combat boots that will never be worn again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Be grateful for those combat boots by your door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You truly will miss them when they are gone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">More than you could possibly ever imagine. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">With much love,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Monica</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Click here to read Monica's reflections <a href="http://www.agoatrodeo.com/2017/05/three-years.html">Three Years</a> after her husband was killed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">To learn more about grief, resiliency, and life after loss follow Monica Bobbitt <a href="https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/">https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/</a>on Facebook:</span></div>
Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532675034081685777.post-77794008009510312912018-04-10T21:24:00.001-03:002022-10-17T17:15:07.514-03:00The Grass Isn't Always Greener Even Though Facebook Might Tell You It Is<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
by Monica Bobbitt</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb9S-QuSeAeGCrEwTsb06a75TfI_C0X14el_BVHzxlJ7rs0Ppu8epFbrnRbihx24YaCO4p9hSuZfoF-QRpB0_xs3P85gonckfezTws5vrJgilt5QJAx1tzPDrl9ShxKwE_wykFuq54POw6/s1600/30530614_10155205282657260_8146708200574418944_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1349" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb9S-QuSeAeGCrEwTsb06a75TfI_C0X14el_BVHzxlJ7rs0Ppu8epFbrnRbihx24YaCO4p9hSuZfoF-QRpB0_xs3P85gonckfezTws5vrJgilt5QJAx1tzPDrl9ShxKwE_wykFuq54POw6/s320/30530614_10155205282657260_8146708200574418944_o.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">All of the lawns on my street are immaculate. Perfectly coiffed and manicured works of art, most of them look like they have just jumped off of the pages of a home gardening magazine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">And then there’s my lawn.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My lawn is not perfect. My grass is not green, at all. And yes, I do realize it’s only April, but still. My grass is hardly ever green, even in June. And you know what, I’m okay with that.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I have a neighbour who spends hours and hours meticulously tending his lawn. From May to September it becomes his raison d’être; all else falls by the wayside in his pursuit of the perfect lawn. He spends so much time looking after his lawn he doesn’t have any time to enjoy it. And it drives his wife crazy. I know because I hear them arguing about it all the time.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If I saw a picture of his lawn on Facebook, I might be envious. Because it is a very fine looking lawn, after all. Much finer than mine. I might even say something like,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh man, look at that awesome lawn. I wish mine looked like that. My lawn is just so brown and boring.”</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">And even though my lawn is actually very brown and boring and does not look like it could be in a home gardening magazine, I don't say that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I don’t say that because I actually know how much blood, sweat and tears (and money) his lawn costs him every year. And you know what? Green grass is just not worth it to me. And also, once you have lived in Petawawa, ON, you learn to live with dry, brown lawn.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The grass might seem like its greener, but it’s really not. No matter what Facebook says.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I was recently having a conversation with someone who follows me on Facebook when she pointed out to me how perfect my life is, and how easy I made it all seem.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Um, hello 47-year old widow, not really what you would call a perfect life, and incidentally, no one has a perfect life. And if they tell you they do, they are so full of it they could fertilize my dead lawn for a year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And I’ve never once said it was easy. Far from it. In fact, I have been more than open about just how hard moving forward really is.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">The truth is, if you were to judge my life by my personal Facebook you’d actually find it really boring, besides all the lovely coffee and gin memes my friends share with me. I did recently post an album of pictures from our March Break trip to the UK to appease my mother. No one, not even me, wants to be nagged by my mother, trust me on this.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And if you follow my Facebook page you know I would be the last person to tell you I have a perfect life (I don’t). But I would also be the last person to tell you I have a terrible life (I don’t).</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Do I post every negative thing that happens to me? Of course not, because I actually try really hard not to focus on the negatives. Ruminating on them doesn’t make them less negative, it just makes me feel worse. And I don’t want to give negativity that much power.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But by the same token, I don't post every fantastic thing that happens to me either.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I actually strive to find a balance between the positives and negatives. Because life is often a balancing act between the good and the bad. Sometimes the scale goes more up than down, and other times its more down than up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In fact, I try really hard to keep it real on A Goat Rodeo (well besides the goats, they still aren’t real). Like here:</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But keeping it real doesn’t mean sharing every personal detail of my life—there are limits. And to answer this question for the millionth time, no I’m not dating anyone but I’ll be sure to let you know when I do, providing he’s okay with that, of course. Honestly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When did Facebook become the yardstick we use to measure other people’s happiness or unhappiness, or our own self-worth? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Because whether we care to admit or not we have all been guilty of it at one point or another.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We look at our friends' posts and we assume we know exactly what’s going on in their life. Or we are envious of them and their “perfect” lives.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The truth is, a picture isn't always worth a thousand words. Most of the time we have absolutely no idea what's really going on in someone's life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Assuming you know what someone’s life is actually like based on a Facebook post is like assuming you know what a finished puzzle is going to look like by looking at just one piece.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Many people only share their best moments on Facebook (or any other social media); brief snapshots in time that only tell a small part of their story.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">That happy couple that is out “celebrating them” at dinner? They are out celebrating a small victory in his battle with PTSD.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">That mom and her smiling daughter? She spent hours this morning struggling to get her daughter out the door to school. And she’s exhausted, just like so many other Moms (and Dads) of kids with special needs.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">That dude who seems to always be at one sporting event or the other? His wife left him six months ago.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And that beautiful blonde who just posted her tenth selfie this month? Well, she was just told a month ago she has breast cancer. And she’s posting those pictures so she won’t forget what she looked like with hair.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sometimes people post the best of themselves because they need that memory to hold on to.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sometimes it’s all they have.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">And sometimes they aren’t able to say how bad things really are.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And that’s okay because you know what? They don’t actually have to. It’s not our business to know if they don’t want us too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Social media can be a wonderful tool to keep us all connected but the next time you’re on Facebook, remember you are just seeing a small piece of somebody’s world. Don’t assume you know how great (or terrible) their life is based on their posts, and don’t judge your own self-worth or accomplishments on what you see in your Facebook newsfeed. I guarantee you that despite the smiles, many of them are dealing with issues you have absolutely no idea about.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Oh and the next time I post a picture on Facebook do feel free to assume my life was a bit of a goat rodeo right before it was taken. Because it actually usually is.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">"The grass is always greener on the other side… until you get to the other side.”~Unknown</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">See you on Facebook,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Monica</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Click here to read what <a href="http://www.agoatrodeo.com/2018/01/so-what-do-you-do.html">Monica does</a>, besides drinking coffee.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">To learn more about grief, resiliency, and life after loss follow Monica Bobbitt on Facebook:<a href="https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/">https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/</a></span></div>
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Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532675034081685777.post-72781353263321395872018-02-17T19:30:00.001-04:002022-10-17T17:15:26.396-03:00I'm 47 For A Moment<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
by Monica Bobbitt</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEsTNVbyoG0XFwN-ZNLtWN6mpcpxV8wKHb0h2PwYfpMvImsNafiu9VV-XPfynnJj-RRb_-rE0z_6K9hPMQ731RMiLYDbT8CwKdB3ZhImjPYEJg6a_dEEWXogSMiFSAMK6qTyzf_ALfIoTo/s1600/_DSC0736-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEsTNVbyoG0XFwN-ZNLtWN6mpcpxV8wKHb0h2PwYfpMvImsNafiu9VV-XPfynnJj-RRb_-rE0z_6K9hPMQ731RMiLYDbT8CwKdB3ZhImjPYEJg6a_dEEWXogSMiFSAMK6qTyzf_ALfIoTo/s320/_DSC0736-Edit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Today is my 47th Birthday. Forty-freaking-seven. Holy crow.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In three years I will hit that milestone age of 50. If I am lucky.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Yes, if I am lucky.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">For a lot of years, especially in my early forties, I was ambivalent about my age. It wasn't that I was particularly stressed about aging, it was just that I was meh about it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When I look back on those years, I can see I was meh about a lot of things. I couldn't see it so clearly then though. The funny thing is Dan could, though we never really talked about it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">That's why he wrote inside my forty-third birthday card,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">"43 is better than the alternative."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Three months later he died, at 43. And I hit rock bottom.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It was the lowest point of my life-- physically and emotionally.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I was a 43-year-old unemployed widowed mother of three teenage children. I had no idea how I was going to support my children, where we were going to live, what I was going to do with my life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The weight of those uncertainties almost crushed me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But as I lay there in the darkness, under the pile of the broken pieces of my life, I realized that no one was going to save me. No one could rescue me or fix my life. Except me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I needed to get up and be my own hero.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And so I did. I got up and I rebuilt my life, piece by painstaking piece.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And as I did, I realized just how much of my life had passed me by. I missed out on so many days because I was too busy stressing about life to make the most of it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Loss teaches you the true value of time. And changes your perspective. It teaches you what's really important, and what's not. All of those things that are seemingly so important, the ones that cause us so much stress, they really aren't.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So much of my life I spent longing for the elusive "if only."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">If only I were better at this or that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">If only I was taller and thinner.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">If only my hair was straight so I could have one of those cute haircuts like everyone else.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">If only. If only. If only.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The last four years have given me the wisdom to know that none of those things would have made me happier (well, except maybe being taller).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Last year as I was having my hair done for a function, the gal doing it straightened it first. It was the first time my hair had ever been that straight. I looked at the woman in the mirror, and I didn't even recognize her. She wasn't me. Turns out these crazy curls are part of who I am; they are part of what makes me me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So here I am at 47. Happy being me, just the way I am. Crazy curls and all.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I'm emotionally and physically healthier, and fitter than I have ever been in my life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Because I decided I was worth the effort (and I am so worth it).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And because I did the necessary hard work. No one else did it for me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And a crazy thing happened along the way, I realized that not only did exercise help me become mentally and physically stronger, I actually enjoy the physical challenge that comes with it. Who knew? Certainly not me all of those years I spent thinking I could never do it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I will never be any taller (but I can buy awesome heels). My crazy curls will always be crazy and now they are a little more grey (well, maybe a lot more grey). And I have more wrinkles than I did four years ago, and you know what? I'm okay with that. I think a few wrinkles are to be expected at my age, especially after what I've been through.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I've come a hell of a long way in the last four years.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Farther than I ever thought possible.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I am so damn proud of the woman I have become.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I have a fantastic new speaking and writing career, and I get to study a subject I love.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I've been able to reach out and support others who are struggling. Knowing I've made the difference in someone else's life makes all the difference in mine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I have three amazing children who never lost faith in me, even when there were times I lost faith in myself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I have a good life. Because I've built it. It's not perfect; because nothing ever is, and it's not without difficulties and challenges, but it's good nonetheless.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">For a long time, I felt that I had to qualify my happiness. As if it was somehow wrong for me to be happy again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But not anymore. I will no longer justify my happiness to anyone. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Because I don't have to. And I shouldn't have to.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I deserve to be as happy as I possibly can be.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I've paid a steep price for my happiness; the true cost of which is impossible for anyone else but me to ever fully comprehend.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">At 47, I truly know how very fortunate I am to be 47. It is a privilege that is denied to far too many.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Each day really is a gift. Yes, even those not so good ones.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I am so very grateful for this year. And I intend to make the most out of every single day of it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Hello 47. I am so alright with you. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"><i>"There's never a wish better than this when you've only got one hundred years to live." ~</i>John Ondrasik<i> </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: 14px;">Click here to read </span><a href="http://www.agoatrodeo.com/2016/02/i-forty-five-for-moment.html" style="font-size: 14px;">I'm 45 For A Moment</a><span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: 14px;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: 14px;">To learn more about grief, resiliency, and life after loss, follow Monica Bobbitt on Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/">https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/</a></span></span></div>
Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532675034081685777.post-79658221845348736752018-02-11T20:55:00.004-04:002022-10-17T17:15:42.232-03:00You Can't Be Brave Without Fear<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
by Monica Bobbitt</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRI6ziBwkSuofONrEffS7zi72tiSlRka_4mVva_DQW14AYtyLqL5nljBNp8mnOYRvDclFJTD56n8_Tu5NYBJ8fcjgQyu2ALyto0oX_C7gRqSNvtlEYazFZjUxJnksMDIKvKXUSfiikVs6N/s1600/_DSC0721-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRI6ziBwkSuofONrEffS7zi72tiSlRka_4mVva_DQW14AYtyLqL5nljBNp8mnOYRvDclFJTD56n8_Tu5NYBJ8fcjgQyu2ALyto0oX_C7gRqSNvtlEYazFZjUxJnksMDIKvKXUSfiikVs6N/s400/_DSC0721-Edit.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Have you ever seen one of those posts on Facebook or Instagram asking you to "describe your life in just one word" (mine was unbelievable, incidentally) or "describe yourself in just one word.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If you were to ask me to pick one word to describe myself, I'd probably pick friendly. Or funny. Loving or even compassionate. I might even say strong. Or saucy; because, well, I like to call a spade a spade, after all. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But I’d never pick brave. And I wouldn’t ever think to pick fearless. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Which is ironic, because those two words have often been used to describe me these last few years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I was talking to a friend the other day, and I was shocked when she said,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“You are so brave. I could never be as fearless as you are.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I was shocked because I don't see myself as extraordinarily brave. I’m not braver than anyone else could be. And I'm definitely not fearless. Far from it, actually. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">B</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">ut appearances are deceiving I guess.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And being brave is not the same as being fearless.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwFGxiuzloW4f0ziwKQB9nFiZQXDvEZ7cucJzq4ShvklynCWvcByPhqufjL1065TNi5BCp2FrRVMzHPInmdMTJjmwr-7DECseFg7UFp8jPF9y1kSRfwXln0gqw-GfW0AaNDxQ1HAynKNRj/s1600/28053687_10155070356762260_2145460748_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwFGxiuzloW4f0ziwKQB9nFiZQXDvEZ7cucJzq4ShvklynCWvcByPhqufjL1065TNi5BCp2FrRVMzHPInmdMTJjmwr-7DECseFg7UFp8jPF9y1kSRfwXln0gqw-GfW0AaNDxQ1HAynKNRj/s320/28053687_10155070356762260_2145460748_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I picked up the pieces and rebuilt my life after my husband died<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">— </span>not because I wasn’t afraid (I was actually scared shitless)<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">—</span> but because I didn’t have any other choice. The alternative was staying in that deep, dark place; which for me wasn’t an alternative at all. There was no way in hell I was going to stay there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I knew moving forward with my life was going to be the hardest, most painful thing I’d ever done. I did it anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Was that brave? Maybe. Necessary? Absolutely. Fearless? Most definitely not.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">To be honest, at the time I didn’t stop to think about whether or not I was being brave or courageous. I was too exhausted and overwhelmed to think much beyond the current day. I was doing what I had to, in order to pick up the pieces of my broken life and put them back together to form a new life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But maybe that’s what bravery is.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Maybe sometimes bravery is doing what needs to be done; not because it’s easy or painless, but because it’s not. Because it’s necessary. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Bravery doesn’t just happen, to me or anyone else, it’s a choice we have to make. And one we have to continue making, over and over again; day in and day out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Bravery is showing up and standing up, again and again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s making mistakes and failing. And trying again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s standing up for what you believe in. And knowing when it’s time to walk away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s speaking up and saying what needs to be heard; even if you’re the only one who needs to hear it. And it's knowing when to remain silent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s asking for help when you need it. And knowing when to go it alone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It's being you, not who the world tells you to be.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And sometimes bravery is saying goodbye when it’s the last thing you ever want to do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s quiet acts and loud ones too. It’s small steps and big ones.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Deciding to start a new career or move to a new town or start a new relationship. It trusting love one more time, knowing full well you could be hurt again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Bravery is all this and so much more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But it isn’t being fearless.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You can’t be brave without fear. If you weren’t afraid, you wouldn’t have to be brave.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Maybe my friends are right, maybe I am brave. But I’m most definitely not fearless.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Nobody is fearless, no matter what they might tell you. All of us are afraid of something. Even if we are too afraid to admit we are afraid. Being afraid is part of being human. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There have been so many times these last almost four years that I have been so very afraid—hands shaking, heart palpitating, I-don’t-think-I-can-do-this afraid.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There are times when I’m afraid and things that I'm scared of. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’m afraid of snakes and heights. And snakes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Every time I publish something I write, I’m afraid. Because they aren’t just random words, they are my very personal thoughts and feelings. And I am putting them on display for all of the world to read (and judge). Well, maybe not all of the world, but some of it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Every time I stand in a roomful of spouses to share my story, I’m afraid. I’m afraid that one day one of them will be me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’m deeply afraid of not being here for my kids. That is my biggest fear of all. If I think about that one too long, it really does give me heart palpitations. It is a fear many parents can relate to, but it takes on an added significance when you become a widow or widower. Because now you’re the only one. I'm the only parent my children have left, if something happens to me, they will be orphans. And that is far too painful to even bear thinking about. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’m also scared of being alone for the rest of my life. Because I actually don't want to spend the rest of my life alone. If I did, I wouldn't have been married in the first place. When I share this with people, they often scoff at it,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“You’re not going to spend your life alone.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But the truth is they don’t know that any more than I do. And if they do, well, I want a peek into their magic crystal ball. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Because the reality is, I may never meet that other person who is right for me; the one who sees me for me, and not just as someone else’s widow. And let's be honest, I do talk a lot. Obviously.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Being old and sick with no one to take care of me scares me too. What if I fall down the stairs? Or have a heart attack? No one would ever know. It would take them days to find me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And did I mention the snakes? Honestly, I’m petrified of them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’m not alone in my fears. So many people face similar fears every day. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Well maybe not the snakes, for some it might be spiders.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I have fears. You have fears. We all have fears. Fear is part of being human. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The choice we all have to make: do we dwell on our fears and let them control our lives? Do we let the fear win? Or do we stand up and face it? Do we choose to be brave?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I made my choice. I'm not going to let fear win. I've already given up so much, too much.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’m not going to give up today too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Because living in fear doesn't stop the bad things from happening, it just robs today of its joy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So I face my fears, every single day. I own them so that they don't own me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">All I can do is what I can do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I can keep an eye out for snakes. And jump really high and run really fast if one crosses my path (which might not be the bravest response, but nobody can be brave all the time). I can continue to share what I write. I can take care of my health. I can be open to a new relationship. I can trust love, one more time. And when I'm older, if I’m alone, I can get life alert in case I fall. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But most importantly, I can live for today.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And I do. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I focus on the here and now, not the what-ifs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I don't want to give up one day to fear. Not this day, or the next one. Or the one after that either. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I don't want to waste a single day of my life frightened of what the future holds.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I don't know what tomorrow will bring, none of us do, but I do know this: there is a whole life waiting to be lived on the other side of my fears.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And I intend to do just that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And I hope you do too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Be brave my friends,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Monica<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Click here to learn <a href="http://www.agoatrodeo.com/2016/07/the-things-we-need-to-say.html">The Things We Need To Say</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">To learn more about grief, resiliency, and life after loss, follow Monica on Facebook:<a href="https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/">https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532675034081685777.post-56794768148030053872018-01-22T21:39:00.001-04:002022-10-17T17:16:13.435-03:00You Don't Know What You Don't Know <div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
by Monica Bobbitt</div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It was recently brought up in a group I belong to that said group should be exclusively for spouses of currently serving members of the Canadian Forces. No spouses of veterans or military widows like me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The conversation morphed as online conversations tend to do, and took on a nasty and somewhat ridiculous tone, and I had to walk away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I've been thinking about it ever since though.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Because the whole thing just made me so sad.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sad that instead of holding each other up, they were pushing each other down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sad that it became your one of us and then your not.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And sad that they don't know what they don't know.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And what they don't know is that we were them once.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The fact is, as a military widow, I have become used to being marginalized. Of not really fitting in. I'm neither the spouse of a current member of the CF or of a veteran.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I don't fit into any neat category. I am an Other.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Your spouse dies in service to his country and you become an Other. We're referred to by Veterans Affairs Canada as a Survivor, although sometimes their own staff doesn't even know what that means.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Personally, I like to call myself a thriver, because I've done a heck of a lot more than merely survive these last three years, but I digress.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">One foot in the civilian world, the other in the military community, we are trapped in a nether land in between. A place we never wanted to be, with the last posting message anyone ever wants to receive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And yes, I have been told I don't belong in the military community anymore (never mind I'm the parent of an RMC cadet).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But for the most part, overwhelmingly, I have been treated by all as one of their own, as still part of the military community.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And I am.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It's taken me a lot of soul searching (and walking) since I've become a widow to figure out just where I fit into this world. And to realize that I belong exactly where I want to belong.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And I also know that I have so much to offer, not just to my friends and family, or to other widows (military and civilian) or to anyone else who may be facing a difficult time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I have so much to offer to those very women who don't want me in their club, now that I belong to that new club, The Others.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Just as the spouses of veterans also have so much to offer them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But they don't see that. Because you don't know what you don't know.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Their attitude is a common one. There are so many that think like them. We see it all the time all across society, not just in our CF one. It's a throwaway world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Someone retires and they suddenly become obsolete. They no longer matter. And the wealth of experience and knowledge they have to offer, well suddenly we don't seem to need it anymore.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When in fact we actually need it more than ever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But we don't know what we don't know.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Take the time to sit and talk with any veteran, veteran's spouse or widow, and you will learn so much.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If you listen to really hear what they have to say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">They can teach you so much about life and grief, service and sacrifice, and even regrets.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When you exclude them from your community, when you close your ears to what they have to say, you miss out on so much.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Knowledge, support, guidance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And then one day, when you suddenly find yourself the one in need of that support and guidance-- from the spouse whose husband has PTSD; or the one whose husband had the critical brain injury; or the military widow who buried her husband, well it's not there. Because she isn't a part of your club anymore.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And so I read what those women had to say yesterday. And I was sad.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Because that spouse of yesterday?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She is the veteran's spouse of tomorrow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And she could very easily be the military widow of today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The doorbell rings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And the wife who belonged yesterday is the other of today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This I know to be true.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Because it happened to me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I was them once. I never thought it would happen to me, but then we never think it will happen to us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But it can. And it does.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It happens when we are twenty-three and when we are forty-three.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It happens when our husband is a young gunner. And it happens when he is the CO.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It happens when they are deployed and it happens when they are on exercise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I hope they never have to learn the hard way what they don't know, but if they do, I'll be there for them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Because though I might not be a part of their spouse's club, we are all part of the same military family. No matter how long our spouses served. No matter when our spouses served. No matter how they died.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I will help them stand up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And I will help them carry that flag.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Because I know just how heavy it is.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And I know it's far too heavy for one person to carry on their own.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You don't know what you don't know. Until it happens to you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Chat soon,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Monica </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Click here to learn <a href="http://www.agoatrodeo.com/2016/10/after-doorbell-twenty-five-things-i.html">25 Things I Didn't Know About Being A (Military) Widow</a> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">To learn more about grief, resiliency, and life after loss, follow Monica on Facebook:<a href="https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/">https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/</a></span><br />
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Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532675034081685777.post-61422291347806691962018-01-17T22:35:00.000-04:002018-01-18T20:16:31.019-04:00So What Do You Do?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
by Monica Bobbitt</div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Someone asked me what I do today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I've always hated that question. Because for many years, my answer was "stay at home mom." </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As if that was somehow less than.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But I often felt it was. For far too long, I felt I wasn't enough. As if somehow my value was tied to the amount of money I made or didn't make.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The raised eyebrows, the snickers, the "oh you're one of those" reinforced my insecurities.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Yes, I am one of those.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And that was inevitably followed up with what does your husband do? And then I would explain he was in the military and then it was another "oh you're one of those."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Yes, I am one of those too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And then I was widowed, and I have come to dread that question even more. Because I no longer have a husband to "support" me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Now I really am "one of those"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A military widow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"I hear you're rich"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Really? I wish somebody had told me that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So when I got that question today, I admit I hesitated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Like deer-in-a-headlight-here-we-freaking-go-I'm-not-enough again hesitated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">What do I say? Do I say stay at home military widow part-time student mom?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Because I don't have a glamorous job with a nice office and pay cheque. My office is my kitchen island. And I don't get paid for what I do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When can I actually call myself a writer? Can I call myself a writer if I've never been published or paid for one single word? Am I poser if I say I am? And will I get another "oh your one of those?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And then I took a deep breath. And I thought about all that I've written over the last three and a half years. And all the writing courses I've taken.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When do I get to call myself a writer?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Now. The answer is now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">What I do is actually part of who I am.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I am a writer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I am a speaker.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And so much more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I am enough.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I'm a writer and a speaker.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"Wow, that's so cool. I've never met an author before! What do you write? Fiction? Nonfiction?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Nonfiction. I write about the hard stuff, the funny stuff, the sad stuff, the grateful stuff.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My life, basically.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"You are so brave for writing the story of you. Do you have a website I can check out?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Be brave enough to walk through the wilderness of uncertainty, criticism, and judgment as who you really are, not who you think the world wants you to be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Decide who you are and then be you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I'm Monica.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I'm a writer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I'm a speaker.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And I'm more than enough.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">And I always have been.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">And so have you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Chat soon,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Monica</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Read more of Monica's story here: <a href="http://www.agoatrodeo.com/2017/01/finding-monica.html">Finding Monica</a> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">To learn more about grief, resiliency, and life after loss, follow Monica on Facebook:<a href="https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/">https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/</a></span></div>
Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532675034081685777.post-75995829807805081742018-01-09T19:30:00.000-04:002018-01-10T22:11:48.744-04:00C-Sections and Deployments<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
by Monica Bobbitt</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTyhSw8Ck8eRSXXkPAOr2daJsefU0w4a4Ns1l4wfO3av7kCk4C7AJ_4Eq1O1dx1H-HwRS-cRmfVFA0P5T-3q9V5q8243klHhiDbJtFkc_zho3dRa2I_-qO81zED_SDESzPFegpw5PgGEbC/s1600/IMG_20180109_0003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1057" data-original-width="1600" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTyhSw8Ck8eRSXXkPAOr2daJsefU0w4a4Ns1l4wfO3av7kCk4C7AJ_4Eq1O1dx1H-HwRS-cRmfVFA0P5T-3q9V5q8243klHhiDbJtFkc_zho3dRa2I_-qO81zED_SDESzPFegpw5PgGEbC/s320/IMG_20180109_0003.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Twenty years ago today this baby girl was born. A week later her dad deployed for the first time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">That first week post-partum pre-deployment is a blur to me now. I remember I was exhausted and apprehensive. And scared.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Not that anything would happen to Dan, I was too naive for that but scared to be alone with two children entirely dependent on me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Scared I would mess it all up. Scared I would mess them up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A few days after we brought the baby home from the hospital, I came down with a severe case of mastitis. Two days after that, Dan deployed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I was alone with the responsibility of parenting a 23-month-old and a newborn, while sick and recovering from a c-section.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I felt so much mom shame. I'd had a c-section, again. I struggled to breastfeed, again, before finally switching to the bottle, again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I felt like a failure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My house was a disaster, I couldn't vacuum for several weeks post-op. And my toddler refused to eat anything but Mini Gos and canned mandarin oranges.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I was supposed to be this strong, resilient army wife. But instead, I felt anything but.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I could have (should have) asked my friends for more help, but I didn't want to be a burden. They helped me enough as it was. And besides, it wasn't their job, it was mine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And I wasn't so good at asking for help back then.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I had never felt so alone as I did in those winter days of January and February.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I was so tired and so overwhelmed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I would sit up at night, feeding the baby, feeling sorry for myself and lamenting on all the things I had to do alone. Dan was missing so much: time with the baby, Connor's second birthday, my birthday, Easter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">All I could see was how miserable I was and how lonely I was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And how hard deployment was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I thought it was the hardest thing ever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I couldn't see outside of my postpartum deployment haze. All I could see was how hard my life was, I couldn't see how good it was or how fortunate I really was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I focused on the negatives, not the positives. I didn't realize I was making a difficult time even worse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Fortunately, as the months went by, I adjusted to single parenting. We got into a routine. I got more sleep. The snow melted and spring finally came. And eventually, the deployment came to an end.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Age, experience, widowhood have given me a perspective I couldn't have then. It's easy to look back now and see that that deployment wasn't the worst thing ever. In fact, there are many things far worse than deployment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But to the Monica then there wasn't, it really was the hardest thing she'd ever been through. That was the only frame of reference she knew.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I sometimes wish I could go back and reassure her as she sat there in the dark feeding the baby, tears streaming down her face. I wish I could hug her and let her know that everything would be okay... eventually. To tell her that despite the c-sections and bottle feedings and Mini Gos, her kids turned out okay, much better than okay. That they grew up to become amazing young adults.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But then, I'd have to tell her about the really hard stuff too. Because you can't have the good without the bad. And so I'd have to tell her that there are actually things far worse than deployment. I'd have to tell her about folded flags and granite headstones. I'd have to break her heart sixteen years too soon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There are just some things you can't take a shortcut through, you have to experience them and live through them in order to grow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And really, there are no shortcuts through hell.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Twenty years ago today a vibrant little girl was born via cesarean section. She was bottle fed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A week after she was born, her dad deployed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He deployed twice more before she was ten.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Twice he moved for several months before her family did.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sometimes her mom fed her boxed mac and cheese and hotdogs. Sometimes her house was a mess.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When she was sixteen, her Dad was killed in a training accident.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Her mom has made all kinds of mistakes since then. She once even epically threatened to quit being the only parent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Her mom no longer feeds her Mac and cheese, though. And the house is a lot cleaner now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Today that baby turned twenty. She's a Dean's List Scholar at the University of Toronto. She speaks three languages and will spend the summer studying in Germany.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As it turns out, her Mom didn't mess her (or her brother and sister) up after all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Last year that baby girl sent her mom a text,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"You're a good writer oh mother of mine. I feel like I don't tell you enough, but I'm really proud of you."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Not half as proud as I am of you Elizabella. I wouldn't trade one single day, not even that terrible one, of the last twenty years of being your mom for anything.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But I am awfully glad you don't wake me up at night anymore. If only I could say the same about your dog.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">To learn more about grief, resiliency, and life after loss, follow Monica Bobbitt on Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/">https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/</a></span></div>
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Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532675034081685777.post-10612040695455815872017-12-31T10:50:00.000-04:002017-12-31T13:41:07.224-04:00A Year of Being Grateful<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
by Monica Bobbitt</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWMyPHSbFa9qmIm5yD4ClWITahYbLd9OvaBtiz3nIqm5pJ5nRV8nmRkgusJY_gLYFfa6bPVf9wjpafPCXlMM6NEzq0GkS80aQtJvzF1TZcSNdcQrWQQuNkJgDEKW7NTMmTdyV6gwLNh_GK/s1600/design-3047520_1920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="680" data-original-width="1600" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWMyPHSbFa9qmIm5yD4ClWITahYbLd9OvaBtiz3nIqm5pJ5nRV8nmRkgusJY_gLYFfa6bPVf9wjpafPCXlMM6NEzq0GkS80aQtJvzF1TZcSNdcQrWQQuNkJgDEKW7NTMmTdyV6gwLNh_GK/s320/design-3047520_1920.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And here we are in the dwindling hours of another year. Hours have turned to days, days to weeks, weeks to months. And seemingly in an instant, we have reached New Year's once again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">For many, like me, 2017 was at times a difficult year. A year touched by sadness, and loss, but also one of new beginnings and hope.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As last year drew to a close, I challenged myself to make this year my Year of Being Grateful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My father had just recently been diagnosed with a lung tumour, and I knew intuitively that this would be a very difficult year. Of course, I really had no idea just how difficult it would be. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Because nothing can truly prepare you for the agony of watching someone die.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My daily grateful posts were meant to hold me accountable: to remind me to take time each day to focus on the positive, and to remind me that as terrible as things might sometimes be, I still had so much to be grateful for. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And I do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I had no idea that my daily posts would resonate so much with so many. But then, we very rarely realize how much we inspire others as we attempt to inspire ourselves.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">The truth is we all need more positivity, more hope, more gratitude.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Especially after this year. This year seemed particularly challenging. Natural disasters, mass shootings, terrorism, fires, political upheaval<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">—</span>all these events weighed heavy on our collective psyche.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And so many of us were dealing with our own personal issues.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Though surface appearances on social media</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">—</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Facebook and Instagram</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">—</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">paint happy pictures of perfection, most of us are leading far from perfect lives. Because there is no such thing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Death, divorce, deployments, career change, cancer, illness, mental health issues, addiction, parenting issues, financial concerns. Every single day someone we know is dealing with something. And sometimes that someone is us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And when it is us, it's hard to see anything but the heaviness of what we are facing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When we look back on a year in which something difficult has happened, that tends to be all we see. Tragedy. Loss. Sadness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A vast void where someone we love once lived. Broken dreams. Mistakes and failures. Opportunities lost. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It's so easy to get caught up in what we don't have, we fail to see what we do have. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And we don't see that we made it through it all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We become so focused on the sadness we can't see anything else.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But the good is there. It was there all year. It's always been there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If only we take the time to stop and see it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Some days it's as simple as the sun shining on your face on a cold winter's day. Or rain washing away your tears. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A hot cup of coffee shared with a friend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A much-needed hug.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It's the scent of salt lingering on an ocean breeze or woodsmoke curling towards the autumn sky.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It's roses still blooming on a cold October day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It's the sweat on your forehead and burn in your lungs as you finish a run.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sometimes it's something profound and meaningful<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">—</span> a mended relationship, your health, your family. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And sometimes it's the words you took the time to say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I love you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I miss you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Goodbye.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Every single day there is something to be grateful for.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Including that day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Each day is a gift. Yes, even the agonizing ones. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCXKV1hG5Yw880fxWlaHSWno6yLAYStFZ0WEE8j4KO-1_Xe9_3CAyoIsIIwLrU3LOfa6Vu4SnIRBIIIMcAmEJPBkzSsbHvK1yGsYPyI3GUTcwtXCKf7UxsAPjcfDSvVzL7Tg2VO1DazOiN/s1600/26234878_10154971433302260_1916408241_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCXKV1hG5Yw880fxWlaHSWno6yLAYStFZ0WEE8j4KO-1_Xe9_3CAyoIsIIwLrU3LOfa6Vu4SnIRBIIIMcAmEJPBkzSsbHvK1yGsYPyI3GUTcwtXCKf7UxsAPjcfDSvVzL7Tg2VO1DazOiN/s320/26234878_10154971433302260_1916408241_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There are so many people who won't get the gift of another day, another year. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The ones who will never again feel sadness or happiness; joy or pain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">They will never get the chance to make it right. To try again. To love again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But we have that chance. We have this day. And if we are one of the lucky ones, we will have tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. And eventually, those days will become another year.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tonight as the page turns on another year, may you look back on 2017 forgivingly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And gratefully.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">May you see the person you lost, not the hole in their stead. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">May you see hope for the future, not broken dreams.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">May you see the lessons you learned, not the mistakes you made. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">May you see the wisdom you gained, not the opportunities lost.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And as you look ahead to 2018, may you do so hopefully. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And gratefully.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This year, may you let go of past hurts, and bitterness and resentment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And may you move forward, inch by inch, with optimism and purpose. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">May you be brave enough to take chances and make mistakes. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Because life is far too short to live with regrets.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">May you celebrate your successes and your failures. Because even if you fail, you know you tried. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">And if you do fail, pick yourself up, and try again. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Never stop trying. Because when you stop trying, you stop living.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This year, may you have enough courage to trust love again, one more time. And always one more time. Don't close your life off to love. Because a life without love is like a book without words. Or a year with no summer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And may you always believe in yourself. Grab a hold of the pen and write the story of you. For you. Don't write the story others want to read; write the story you want to read. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This year, may you make the most out of every single day. Even the boring ordinary ones.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">May you never forget there is always, always something to be grateful for.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And may you make the time this year to see it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"We will open the book. Its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year's Day." ~Edith Lovejoy Pierce<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Cheers to blank pages, new chapters and another year of being grateful. Happy New Year,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Monica </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Click here to learn <a href="http://www.agoatrodeo.com/2017/12/when-its-not-most-wonderful-time-of_9.html">7 Tips For Coping With Holiday Grief</a> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">To learn more about grief, resiliency, and life after loss, follow Monica Bobbitt on Facebook:<a href="https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/">https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/</a></span></div>
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Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532675034081685777.post-65483531194608717412017-12-09T22:35:00.000-04:002017-12-10T13:38:46.733-04:00When It's Not The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year. 7 Tips For Coping With Holiday Grief<div class="MsoNormal">
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by Monica Bobbitt</div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Christmas is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year but for many, it is anything but the happiest season of all. For those grieving the loss of a loved one or dealing with difficult life challenges such as divorce or illness, the holidays are not merry and bright. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">For all too many, they are bleak, lonely, and sad. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The holidays can be overwhelming and stressful at the best of times, even more so if you're grieving the loss of a loved one (or your marriage or health). The holidays can intensify feelings of loss and loneliness. Family gatherings and holiday celebrations are often painful reminders of all that you have lost. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There is so much pressure to be happy at Christmas. Commercials, music, and movies all push happiness and joy. Stores and restaurants are festively bedazzled with decorations to celebrate the season. Even a simple cup of coffee turns into a reminder that the holidays are near. And everyone everywhere is telling you to be of good cheer. Sometimes it's all so overwhelming; you just want to yell, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"I don't have any freaking cheer left, good or otherwise."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In fact, I actually did mutter those very words to myself the first Christmas after my husband died.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We spent that first Christmas squashed into a 200-year-old rental house. All of our things were in storage, so I bought and borrowed a few ornaments in an attempt to make it seem and feel more festive. Still partially numb with grief, my main priority was making sure my kids had as good of a Christmas as possible, given the circumstances.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I forced myself through the motions of cooking a turkey dinner for the kids, my in-laws, and parents in an antiquated kitchen. It was unseasonably warm, +20 C and raining, hardly festive weather. The rain outside matched the gloom in my heart. I counted each agonizing minute, waiting for the day to be done until finally, it was over. As I lay in bed that night, staring at the uneven boards on the ceiling, I heaved a huge sigh of relief. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I had survived the first Christmas.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We were long settled into our new house by the time the second Christmas rolled around. I was totally unprepared for the tsunami of emotions that washed over me as I unpacked our Christmas decorations and ornaments for the first time since Dan died. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My Christmas spirit still hadn't returned, but I was determined to recapture that cozy feeling I'd always had during the holidays. I threw myself into it with gusto. Too much gusto. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I spent days and days decorating, shopping, and baking. Every time I thought I was finished I would think,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Maybe, just a little bit more.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And so I would bake another treat, buy one more round of gifts, string another set of lights.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But of course, a little bit more wasn’t enough. And it never would be. The truth was, no amount of decorations, or gifts, or cookies were ever going to make Christmas feel the same again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I couldn’t see then that I was over-compensating. I was trying to make up for the previous Christmas, and all that we had lost. I very much believed that it was up to me to make Christmas perfect for everyone; for my kids, my in-laws, my own parents. I spent so much time worrying about making Christmas wonderful for everyone else, I neglected myself. I was physically exhausted and emotionally overwrought. Which is how I found myself in my garage one day shortly before Christmas sobbing on my father-in-law’s shoulder, as I had so often done in the months since Dan had died,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I can’t do this anymore.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And it was at that moment I realized that I never had to do it in the first place. It was never my job to make Christmas perfect for everyone else. I was not responsible for everyone’s Christmas happiness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I was only one person, trying to do the best I could. I needed to set priorities and establish boundaries, not just for the holidays.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And so I did. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If you are struggling with grief during the holidays, these seven tips may help you cope a little better:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">1. Give yourself permission to feel sadness and happiness.</span></b><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Happiness and sadness are not mutually exclusive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It's only natural that you will feel sadness during the holidays. How could you not? A big piece of your heart is missing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There were so many times that second Christmas that I stifled my tears, I was so worried I would ruin the holiday mood for everyone else. I didn’t want to make anyone else sad. I should never have buried my emotions; I should have allowed myself the time and space to grieve.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But it's also equally okay, it’s more than okay, to allow yourself to be happy at Christmas too. You are allowed to enjoy the holidays. Savour those little moments of joy as they come. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Whenever I passed the Christmas tree, I would stop and inhale the sweet scent of fresh balsam fir. I would close my eyes and stand in stillness, and for that moment, I allowed Christmas joy back into my heart.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">2. Set limits.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You are only one person; you can only do so much. You don’t have to do everything you used to do before.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> I no longer bake nearly as much as I used to at Christmas, I have scaled the decorating back by over half, and I shop as much as I can online (malls stress me out at the best of times). All of these things have drastically reduced my stress level.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If you are having family visit at Christmas, delegate (which is something I sometimes struggle to do). Ask other people to help out with meals and holiday preparations.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Last Christmas, my children very willingly pitched in and helped wrap, shop, and cook. Many hands make light work, and for the first time since I’d had children, I was actually able to sit back and really enjoy the holidays.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">3. Be true to yourself.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You know what is best for you. Don’t feel obligated to do things in order to please other people or because you are worried about what they might think of you if you don’t do them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">One Christmas, the kids and I loaded up in the car and headed off to the cemetery. We weren’t going because we wanted to. We were going because my in-laws had gone and I felt we had to go as well. And I was worried they wouldn’t understand if we didn’t go. We arrived at the cemetery and immediately felt overwhelmed by sadness. It brought us no comfort to be there that day. Nor did it make us feel any closer to Dan. And as our youngest daughter pointed out, he was already with us anyway. We haven’t gone on Christmas Day since.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Our grief is as unique as we are, and we all have to grieve (and heal) in our own way. What is comforting for one may not be comforting for another. And you know what? That’s okay.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">4. Say no.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You don’t have to participate in events or attend family gatherings if you are not up to it. If you find it overwhelming, don’t feel obligated to attend (or host). Many find comfort in being surrounded by lots of family; others do not. Sometimes you do feel lonelier in a crowd than you do on your own.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I still sometimes find large family gatherings difficult to manage, especially at the holidays. I am much more acutely aware of my “oneness” when I’m with Dan’s entire extended family. Fortunately, I have learned my limits, and if I think it will be too much for me emotionally, I no longer force myself to attend. It doesn’t mean I don’t love them, it just means it’s too much for me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">5. Take care of you.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You will be no good to anyone if you don’t take care of yourself. You have to make time for you. Try not to overindulge in food and alcohol (a tall order on any holiday). Try to get enough rest, and don’t neglect your physical fitness. Make the time to get outside in the fresh air. It will help you cope with stress and grief better.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">6. Start new traditions.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Christmas does not have to look exactly the same as it used to be. Because Christmas won’t be exactly the same as it once was. New holiday traditions are a positive way to start a new chapter in your life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Dan loved the new coloured LED lights, I do not. I prefer white lights. So I bought white icicle lights for my new house, and I love them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We’ve incorporated new traditions in with the old. Every year we add new ornaments to our tree. We still hang our stockings on Christmas Eve, but we don’t hang Dan’s. We still make Moose Milk the same way he loved it though. Why mess with a delicious thing?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">7. Treasure the memories.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Memories of past holidays may be painful at first. But they can also be a source of great comfort. Our memories are precious treasures. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After the second Christmas, I realized I needed to change my focus. Instead of focusing on how Christmas would never be the same without Dan, I needed to be grateful for all of the wonderful Christmases we did have. And we had so many. In all of our years of marriage, he never missed one, single Christmas. An almost miraculous accomplishment considering he was in the military. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The kids and I have a treasure trove of wonderful Christmas memories with their Dad. And I will always be so grateful for that. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This coming Christmas will be the fourth one since he died. It hasn't been easy, but I have found joy in Christmas again. And so can you. It may not happen the first Christmas or even the second, but if you are kind to yourself and patient, you and Christmas joy will find each other again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And someday you may even once again find yourself humming, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"It's the most wonderful time of the year."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">With much love over the holidays,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Monica</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 14pt;">Click here to learn </span><a href="http://www.agoatrodeo.com/2017/12/what-grieving-friends-wish-you-would.html" style="font-family: cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt;">What Grieving Friends Wish You Would Say</a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 18.6667px;">To learn more about grief, resiliency, and life after loss, follow Monica Bobbitt on Facebook: </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/" style="font-family: cambria, serif; font-size: 18.6667px;">https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/</a><br />
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Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532675034081685777.post-82799876491128690212017-12-01T19:15:00.000-04:002017-12-01T19:15:34.409-04:00What Grieving Friends Wish You Would Say. 10 Things To Say To A Friend Who Has Lost A Spouse<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
by Monica Bobbitt</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4W8G2himekAK8Z6tFJDB6QaaahQArzV7XT0FkRsIyswDZmswnegZ9_tXXXJmQYBNRxKjHlBsccyyyDRivQGXX7Cyzn8GAB60jnCLznl1wxTab4F2I42Tp7A6_mnhEUTu7vz3VkoN0aQBr/s1600/comforting+friend.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="453" data-original-width="680" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4W8G2himekAK8Z6tFJDB6QaaahQArzV7XT0FkRsIyswDZmswnegZ9_tXXXJmQYBNRxKjHlBsccyyyDRivQGXX7Cyzn8GAB60jnCLznl1wxTab4F2I42Tp7A6_mnhEUTu7vz3VkoN0aQBr/s320/comforting+friend.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It can be hard to support a friend who has experienced the death of their spouse. You want to help your grieving friend. But you are unsure of what to say. What can you do to help?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When my husband was killed in a military training exercise, our friends and military community rallied around me to provide support. For many, it was their first experience losing a close friend. They had no idea what they were doing, and honestly neither did I. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A few days after my husband’s funeral, an acquaintance called to check on me. My mouth dropped as I heard her say,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I know what you are going through. My dog died last month. I’m still heartbroken.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I was stunned. How could she be so insensitive? How could she know what I was feeling? She’d never buried her husband. Losing your dog is not the same as losing your husband.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Another friend informed me that I would be miserable and lonely for the rest of my life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“You’re going to be so miserable. You’ll never ever be as happy again as you were when Dan was alive.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I knew my friends didn’t mean to be insensitive (really). They were actually trying to be supportive. They just had no idea what to say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s a problem many of us struggle with when someone we know loses a spouse (or anyone else).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When someone is grieving, words can seem so inadequate. We often struggle to find the right words. And sometimes we end up saying completely the wrong ones.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Some people are so scared they will say or do the wrong thing they purposefully avoid the bereaved person, thinking that’s better than saying the wrong thing. It’s actually not better; it’s one of the worst things you can do. Avoidance is hurtful and confusing to someone who is already dealing with so much.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The truth is there is nothing you can say that will take away your friend’s pain. There are no magic words you can say that will fix it, you can’t fix the unfixable. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But there are some things you can say (or do) to provide much-needed comfort to a bereaved friend during a terribly difficult time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>1. I don't know how you feel.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">No one can ever truly understand what another person is feeling. Even if we have suffered a similar loss, our pain and grief are as unique to each of us as our fingerprint is. No two people will grieve and mourn in the same way.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Don’t compare your friend’s loss to a loss you have experienced, especially to the loss of a pet. Losing a pet is definitely not the same as losing your husband.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b> 2. I'm sorry for your loss.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">They may not seem like enough, but these simple words convey so much meaning and show you truly care.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>3. I'm not sure what to say. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Be honest with your friend and tell them you are at a loss for words, trust me, they will understand.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Before my husband died, I’m not sure I would have known what to say to a friend who’d lost a spouse either. Though, I’d like to hope I wouldn’t have compared it to losing my dog. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>4. I'm here for you.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Everyone needs to know they are not alone. Knowing there is someone you can reach out to when you need them, whether its 2 p.m. or 2 a.m., is vital and so reassuring.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I had friends I knew I could message in the middle of the night when I had nightmares or couldn’t sleep. And ones I knew would drop everything in an instant to be there for me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>5. Say nothing.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">This is not the same as avoiding your friend.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sometimes you do say it best when you say nothing at all. There will be times your friend doesn’t need you to say anything. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">They just need you to sit with them in silence. Hold their hand, pass them a tissue, or make them a coffee. Let them cry. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Listen. Let them talk about their sorrows, no matter how personal or messy it gets.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Listening, without judgment, is one of the most important things you can do for a grieving friend.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>6. I'm thinking of you.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Grief lasts long after everyone has gone home and all the funeral flowers have wilted. Knowing someone has taken the time out of their day to think of you is very comforting, especially if it’s been several months (or even years) since your loss.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A message that only takes a few seconds to send can make all the difference in the world to someone who is feeling lost and alone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s been three and a half years since my husband was killed, and I still have people reach out to me on a regular basis.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I just wanted to let you know I’m thinking of you today.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Those messages truly warm my heart. It’s so nice to know people still care.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>7. Ask them what they'd like to talk about.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">They might want to discuss their loss or their circumstances. Or they might just want to talk about something ordinary, like the weather.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">For weeks after my husband died, it seemed like all anyone wanted to talk to me about was his death and my grief. It was so heavy to think about all the time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I had one friend who didn’t talk to me about my loss at all. Instead, he would talk to me about the weather or wind turbines or bats (all conversations we actually had) and for those brief few minutes each day, I didn't have to think about my grief or my broken heart or how awful my life was going to be.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>8. I'm coming to take the garbage out.<o:p></o:p></b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Even the simplest of tasks can be overwhelming to someone who is grieving. Avoid the tendency to ask the bereaved what they need you to do because, in all honesty, they likely don’t even know what they need you to do.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Take out the garbage, mow the lawn, or shovel the driveway. Make a list of household chores that need to be done and divide them between those who have offered to help.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After my husband died, so many people stepped up to help. One sorted all of his military kit; others took care of my lawn, a group of them pitched in to hire a house-cleaning service. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There was no way I could have managed all of it on my own, especially in those early weeks. They eased some of the load on my already overburdened shoulders.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b> 9. Talk about their loved one.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When someone dies, we often worry if we talk about them it will make the griever more upset. In fact, the opposite is true. When someone loses a loved one, they want to talk about them. And they want to hear their name. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Say their name; share your own stories and memories of them. It’s comforting to know how much you loved them and will miss them too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After Dan died, I heard so many wonderful (and funny) stories about him from his friends and soldiers. They made me feel closer to him and made me laugh. Not surprisingly, many of them involved Dan</span> <span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">spilling coffee on someone or something. He really could be such a klutz sometimes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>10. Would you like a hug?</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Not everyone is touchy-feely, but physical contact can be meaningful and comforting to someone who is grieving. A hug won’t take away their pain, but it will make them feel loved and a little more secure.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I was always a hugger, but I find I’m even more so now. I hug a little tighter, and a little longer. Just in case. Because you never know what tomorrow is going to bring.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Supporting someone who is grieving can be challenging and difficult. It is gut-wrenching watching someone you love suffer. You aren’t going to have all of the answers, and you won’t get everything right. And that’s okay.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The most important thing you can do is show up. Be there for them in the days and weeks (and months and years) after their loss. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Show up. Say or do something. Listen when they need you to.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Be there. Be a friend who cares.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.” ~Henri Nouwen</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Chat soon,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Monica</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Click here to learn </span><a href="http://www.agoatrodeo.com/2017/08/ten-things-not-to-say-to-someone-who-is.html" style="font-size: 12pt;">What Grieving Friends Wish You Wouldn't Say</a><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">To learn more about grief, resiliency,</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> and life after loss, follow Monica Bobbitt on Facebook: </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/" style="font-size: 12pt;">https://www.facebook.com/agoatrodeo/</a><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09666050644958856464noreply@blogger.com15