Monday, June 16, 2014

Brain Yoga

 My mind and spirit are in need of brain yoga.  I promised myself that Today I am going to write a post.
Some of it will be filled with hum drum.  Okay probably most of it will be that.  But I know that when I begin to meander and wander down the pathways of my mind, recalling what my week was like, my thoughts will most likely reveal feelings which I have been relegating to my inner sanctum.

Yesterday, Father’s Day.
 My own father passed away over 20+ years ago.  He was quite a character and I could write reams about him.  He may not have been the perfect father, but I know he loved me, the only way he knew how.
My son and my son-in-law are great dads.
I was a little upset for my son, whose boys were not with him yesterday.  But they will be coming in a few days to spend part of the summer with him.   We are all excited and are looking forward to their visit.
Ross was thrilled when he received a text from Bella wishing him a “Happy Father’s Day, Pop-Pop.”
I know how much that meant to him.

I mostly now hold my grief over the loss of Joe close and deep in my heart.  I don’t write about it as much.  I am quiet.   It is always with me though.
I struggle a little more with my emotions on each one of the special days that are traditionally celebrated during the year.
This yesterday’s Father’s day I was filled with anger because my grandson did not have his dad.     From the moment of Domani’s birth, Joe was instantly a father.  He loved that boy so much.   I am sad that I only had a brief time to see my son with his son.  He was so proud of his little guy.
I still have difficulty with acceptance.   I am confused and filled with disbelief.  I shake my head back and forth in a silent gesture of no, no, no.

Sometimes it is so hard to reconcile the joy I feel for my other children and grandchildren with my melancholy.

Yesterday, one of my Facebook friends posted that someone asked him why he hated Father’s day so much.  Only a person who has never suffered the loss of a child would be insensitive enough to ask that question.

So today’s post wasn’t so hum drum or newsy but I did stretch my soul.
Sun Salutation
Tomorrow I’ll tell the story of Chippy and the hundred and fifty dollar bird feeder.


  1. I look forward to the story of Chippy. Father's Day makes me sad, sadder when I was younger, in that my father died when I was 18 months old (my brother 3, my sister 5). Mom raised the 3 of us alone; never got remarried. I haven't experienced the loss of a child and I am sorry for you loss; I know it has to be hard to see your grandson missing his dad.


    1. Oh my Betty, it must have been difficult for your mother and for you and your siblings. I often wonder what effect that might have on a child. Thank you for your supportive words.

  2. Well there you go--start with a thought and one thing leads to another. There was a lot I could relate here. My own father died about 24 years ago. My kids were all far away from me, but at least they all called me to wish me a Happy Father's Day. Fatherhood is a gift and a responsibility that should never be taken lightly.

    Tossing It Out

    1. Lee, I should do more of thoughtful writing. It does spawn ideas. I agree having children is a wonderful gift. It was nice that the kids called you. I’m sure you loved hearing from them.

  3. Lynda,

    To be perfectly honest, I almost didn't press that follow button a couple of months ago...because we have a name that we share. I'm really glad I did.


    1. Well, Susie, you have become one of my favorite bloggers.

  4. Certain days can be triggers, can't they?

  5. Your pain is palpable. I am sorry for your loss and for the sadness that stays with you. I can imagine that Father's Day and other significant days are especially hard, but I know that it doesn't have to be a significant day for you to feel the sadness. I know it is always there. Saying a prayer for you, my friend.

    1. Thank you for your understanding words. On Father’s day, I read something on Facebook written by a friend of Joe’s. It was a tidbit of information that I didn’t know about Joe. It made me smile. That’s what I hope to be able to do more of.