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Category Archives: Sad

sparkle shoes

Most people have a body part that they don’t like, some more than others. We each see our own flaws magnified, and think everyone else is looking at us too, gawking and clucking at our misfortune.

I found myself in a shoe department looking at silver shoes and sandals too pretty to be on my feet. Others had such beautiful legs and delicately trim ankles. They were able to turn pirouettes in their high heeled cage shoes with spindly heels and fashionable cut outs.

Meanwhile, I had three pairs of flats in my hands. Such is life; I have crossed the barrier where I am capable of walking in such confections of leather and lack of support.

While admiring the other shoppers, I noted three people shopping with their mothers. Another woman had just taken off her beautiful nude colored heels and reached for a pair of Keds slip on sneakers. I smiled at her and told her how impressed I was with her choice of shoes and the need for comfort. She told me that her high heels were extremely comfortable but she was picking up the sneakers for her mother who would love them.

Creeping up on the anniversary of my mother’s passing, I began to feel the loneliness and sadness that I have no right to feel. Other people have lost their mothers much earlier in life, or never known them, so I had no right to these feelings. Also, my mother suffered and died from ALS (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, or Lou Gehrig’s disease). In the last six months of her life, she lost the use of her limbs and her freedom. Rationally, I did not want her to continue living suffering but miss having the love of my mother.

I chatted with another woman who was trying on beautiful glittery sparkling shoes for a wedding. They looked lovely on her and I complimented her on her beautiful legs and how pretty they the shoes looked on her feet. Next, in my own insecurity, I explained that I had horrible legs which was why I hid them under maxi skirts.

In the end, I left the store without a purchase. I walked back to my car and turned on the blissful air conditioning. Then, in the quiet of a moment’s pause, I realized that I had to have gratitude for the gifts which I do have.

My legs are not horrible — because they work. I know my mother would have been proud that I understood and learned the moral of the story.

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That last ride means so much. My incredible mother marveled to hear the birds singing and tweeting on her first trip out of her room in six months and her last trip on Earth. True kindness knows no bounds.

Kindness Blog

taxi drivers tale of kindness photo

A NYC Taxi driver wrote:

I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked.. ‘Just a minute’, answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90’s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940’s movie.

By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.

There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or…

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grief is not a disorder

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thanks for stopping by! it means more than you know.
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grieving heart

I found myself being silly, making a joke, a suffused bubble of light inside of me as I laughed. Then I felt guilty. That is how I know that I am still mourning mightily.

For anyone who is mourning and grieving, laughter and joy are still tightly intertwined with guilt and sadness. Our emotions are twisted like the ribbons of a thousand balloons.

We want to be happy, and laugh, we really do. But, a piece of our heart is missing and sometimes it affects our breathing, making it impossible to do so. Part of the oft repeated refrain is that our loved ones would want us to be happy. Yes, in a rational world, that has not been turned upside down with grief, that makes sense. However, there is nothing rational about grief.

It has no time limit. It does not travel in a straight path. It meanders, going up and down, peeking behind dark corners, causing an anxiety attack when and where you least expect it. Grief is a Rebel.

It colors everything we say or do, or how the world looks to us in our gray tinted lenses. Visions appear and then tears blot them into lost Monet paintings, colors running downward, and away, from us. Grief is an Artist.

You play all the right music and watch all the right movies. You seek out comedy and avoid terrible news stories. You try to think about something else or focus on someone else. Then you have a trigger… Today, someone told me about their sister-in-law’s passing at the age of 47. She left behind 11 orphaned children. Instantly, I was sucked back into the vision and heartache of children and grandchildren growing up without the rare and brilliant love of a mother. Grief is a vacuum.

You plan happy occasions and pick out special gifts or foods. Decorations are carefully planned and stockings are hung with care. Suddenly, you realize that it is all gone; nothing is really there, it is but an elaborate illusion. With a wave of a hand and a toss of the head, it all vanishes into thin air. We are stricken tiny and mute. Nothing is really as it seems. Grief is a magician.

A year ago, everything was the last. Each holiday, each photograph, each family occasion was the last. This year, everything is the first; the first of many without. With everything it has taken away, Grief has only given me one thing: the painful depth and true understanding of another’s endless mourning.

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