Monday, January 29, 2018

Did He Ever Know ...

Today my mom came over to help me go through some of my dad's things and put away some old family albums.  While we were going through the old albums, we found something I had written about my grandfather's passing.  Today it has been 28 years since my grandfather passed away and one month since I lost my dad; we both cried reading what I had written in 1991:

January 29, 1990, was a relatively regular day or as regular as my days could be at the time.  It had been a good day at school.  I remember staying late after school talking with Mrs. Rothman, my biology teacher, about a few problems I was having.  I was happy that I didn't have to work after school because I was pretty tired.  I went home and immediately decided to take a nap.  My brother was in the next room playing Nintendo.  As I was lying there, I couldn't help but think about my papa, and I felt so guilty because all I could think about was how I wish he would mercifully pass on.

It seemed as if he had been sick forever.  I could hardly remember the last time I had seen him in the yard fiddling with something that needed to be fixed for Grandma.  These were the kinds of things that he loved to do.

At that moment all I could think of was him lying in the hospital bed in my grandparent's living room looking so helpless... a look I had never seen on my papa before.  He had always been such a strong man... strong in many more ways than one.  He was so strong in his faith that it seemed unbelievable to me that God could be doing this to my papa.  Never once did I see him give up on his fight to stay alive and be with the people he loved so much.

I thought about how long he had been sick and how every year the doctors would tell us that he would not make it through the holidays.  It had almost become routine to hear that, and then Papa would do just fine, and we would have a great Christmas.  It wouldn't even seem as if he was sick.  He would be up playing with the grandchildren.  It had only been a little over a month since last Christmas.  Everything as still very clear in my mind.

I was thinking about these things... so many thoughts running through my mind.  It startled me when the phone rang.  My brother and I picked up at the same time.  It seemed every time the phone rang everyone would race for it.

We both said "hello."  It was my mom.  I knew she had been with Papa all day.  Her voice was very shaky but calm as she told us my grandfather had just passed away.  I cannot even begin to explain the feeling I felt.  I just sat there.  My brother and Mom were completely tuned out.  I couldn't talk.  I couldn't even breathe.  I just sat there forgetting to hang up the phone.  I just sat there and cried.  It was a feeling of sadness, not reality.  Later that evening my brother and I drove over to my grandparent's house to join the rest of the family.  On the way there, we didn't talk; not a single word came out of our mouths.  The radio was on, but I only remember one song, "In the Living Years." I just started crying so hard that I didn't think I could drive the rest of the way.

All of the sudden I just stopped crying and I thought to myself" "it isn't real; when I get there Papa will be sitting in his blue chair watching TV or in the kitchen helping Gran with dinner."

When we pulled up, I saw many cars there.  I parked behind my mom's car, got out and walked to the door.  I stood there for a second preparing myself.  When I went in, the living room was empty.  I walked into the kitchen and saw my family sitting around the table with tear-streaked faces.  As soon as I saw my gran, I started crying again.  She gave me the biggest hug. I couldn't let go; I didn't want to let go of her.  As we sat there talking about the funeral arrangements every once in a while someone would start crying.  We would all stop talking until there were done.

After a while I got the nerve to ask, "What was it like?" Who was with him?" "Did he feel any pain?" My mom began telling me that she and my aunt had been with him all night and day and for some reason, they could tell he was considerably worse today.  My grandmother told them to call and ask my other aunts and uncle to come home quickly.  As they were all trying to reach them, Papa was trying to talk to Gran.  He told her how much he loved her.  Once his children arrived, they all gathered around him and cried.  He passed away with the people he loved most there with him.

The next couple of days were hard.  We had to hold his funeral three days after his passing to allow people to fly into town.  I seemed to be okay during the two nights of family visitation at the funeral home with a lot of people constantly around.  It was very hard for me to cry in front of them.  I wanted to be strong for my mom and my gran.

The day of the funeral was cold and wet.  We got in the cars and were led to the funeral home.  Once there, I saw many people.  The entire chapel was full.

I don't remember the whole thing... just the end when a man from my aunt's church sang, "Wind Beneath My Wings." I started crying so hard.  Right then and there I realized that my grandfather was the wind beneath my wings... he was my hero.  I love him and still miss him very much.  On January 29th it will be one year since his death, and he is still very much alive in my heart and my memories.

Tuesday, January 23, 2018

Good Days * Bad Days * Tsunami Days

The waves continue to come. I’ve had a couple of good days and a couple of bad days. Waves. Today there are a lot of waves.  More accurately, today there have been tsunamis. One step forward ten steps backward. 

I miss my dad so much.  I want to see him. Smell him. Hug him. Just once more! I need more time.  Even just one more day.  Please, just one more day.  

Today has been filled with a lot of crying, really full on sobbing.  I’m so damn mad.  I have questions to ask him. Things I still want to know. Things that I need to say. I would give anything for just one more day.  One more I love you.  Once more for him to say my name... Laura Leigh. ❤️

Today I’m filled with regrets, what-ifs, and so much sorrow. Waves.

I also need to say; I have made some forward movement.  I’m trying to accomplish one thing every day. Even if that one thing is getting out of bed.  Last week I worked out three times.  This week my goal is four times. I’ve started taking my Plexus products which have helped my body begin to heal.  I’m trying to do a little work each day, but for some reason, it’s a definite trigger.  I want to work! I love my job and enjoy helping others so much, but I'm struggling with being able to help others while navigating my way through my sorrow. 
There are still days that getting out of bed is all I can accomplish.  Afternoons and evenings are my low times, and I allow myself that time.  Today though has been exhausting, and I can barely keep my weepy eyes open, yet I know sleep won’t come.  It’s such a vicious cycle.  

I love looking at pictures of my dad ... this one of him with my grandparents makes me smile!

Don, Daphna, and Bobby Williams

After my grandfather died, one day my dad & I were out running errands, and when we came to a stop to park, he fell apart.  I remember it like it was yesterday, him weeping, and my 18-year old self-trying my very best to comfort him.  My dad had felt the intense grief of losing his father. The same pain I’m feeling now.  Had I known then how awful it is I would have held him a little longer and a little tighter.  

Weeping is perhaps the most human and universal of relief measures. -Karl Menninger

Bobby Don and Don Oscar Williams
It is incredible how much my dad looked like his dad the older he got. While my dad was in the hospital, I really started noticing how much they resembled one another.  

One Breath, One Step. Repeat.

Friday, January 19, 2018

Three Weeks

Three Weeks today.  It has been three weeks, and the tears are still falling and falling and falling.  I learned this week that it is ok to take my time and grieve on my timeline.  There was a moment that I was feeling rushed and embarrassed for still grieving so hard, but this is my journey, and I plan on honoring and walking through the pain. Unfortunately, our culture does expect people to grieve quickly and move on.  I think it is because grief makes other people uncomfortable.  Even Ian is struggling with my sadness - it is tough for him to see me in so much pain. He wants to fix it for me, but that's just not possible.

I believe that friends thought after the memorial service I would have "closure," but I do not. I am glad we honored my dad and that friends and family were able to say their goodbyes, but I am not sure I am ready for closure. 

Closure: a feeling that an emotional or traumatic experience has been resolved.

Am I supposed to turn off my grief because we’ve had a memorial for my dad?  I’m STILL grieving.  My body aches, my heart hurts, and my mind races all of the time. Nothing for me is resolved.

I can’t sleep. I want to sleep.  
I can’t eat. I want to eat.  
My body aches. Please stop aching.  
My heart hurts. Please stop hurting. 
My body is filled with dread.  What am I dreading? Life without my dad? I can’t make the feeling go away.  

Grief is very different for everyone who experiences it. Grief is messy and ugly and exhausting. 

There are days that I don't get out of bed, days that I don't shower; everything feels so cumbersome and difficult to maneuver. Right now I am focusing on one breath, one step, repeat.  I will continue to share my grief - honesty begins with us - it begins with me. There is no reason to rush through it - if it makes someone else feel uncomfortable, then that is their problem, not mine.  I do not say that unkindly but rather to let others know that it is ok to grieve when and where and how you need to. 

One Breath. One Step. Repeat. 

Dad's presence will always be with me - all I have to do is look in a mirror and he's right there. 

Monday, January 15, 2018

Celebration of Life for Dad

On Saturday, January 13th we had a private family memorial for my dad at his house.  It was perfect! My cousin, Jeff spoke loving words about my dad and our family.  We watched a beautiful slideshow of dad with beautiful music, my step-mom, Jeri and I both read personal eulogies, and my sweet girls tried to read a poem, but both broke down, so I took over and read it for them - how did I do that?  It broke my heart to see them so sad. Afterwards, we had a lovely family dinner provided by my mom and her family,  Jeri's sister's family, & Tracy Williams.  My amazing friends, Shay, Rachael, and Alice put it all together and cleaned up for us - I do not know how we would have gotten it all done without them.

Afterwards, we went to my dad's local hangout, Volcano's Sports Bar and Grill where we had a public memorial with over 150 of his friends and members of his shuffleboard family.  It was live-streamed and watched by hundreds of others that loved my dad.  He was honored for his service as a Vietnam Vet with the playing of Taps, and there was a presentation of a folded American flag to Jeri. Then to end the service, there was a sign dedication for my dad's "corner" in the bar. My dad didn't drink alcohol so I love they also included his favorite non-alcoholic beer, ODoul's with the sign. Ian gave a beautiful toast and then there was a huge shuffleboard tournament in his honor with over 70 participants.  Special thanks to those that helped make this happen! Barb, Bethany, Shane and all of the others that donated!

Instead of flowers, the family has requested that donations be made in my dad's name to Camp Sweeney. I do not know the total amount raised for Camp Sweeney at this time, but Dad's shuffleboard family raised over $1,000 plus there have been countless other donations, so I am hopeful that we have raised enough to send at least one camper in his name this summer.  I feel so honored and appreciative.

Saturday was much easier for me than I imagined I told myself I would get through it to make my dad proud and I did.  Plus, being surrounded by friends and family that love my dad I felt a sense of comfort surrounding me. The day after the memorial for my dad has been wonderful and awful. I woke up surrounded by friends and family at my dad’s house. I believe Saturday I was going through the motions. Being brave for my family and my children. Once I got home yesterday, I was once again overwhelmed with grief.  Now it’s about reality and trying to figure out how to get back into a world that doesn’t include my dad anymore. It’s almost like starting over, back at square one. I feel heavy.  That is the only way I have been able to describe it.  My grief is weighing me down, making it hard to do anything other than cry and sleep (which only happens if medicated). I keep watching the same movie over and over; I find it hard to do anything required of me including mom-ing, work, housework, laundry and I cannot watch live TV or be on social media to see that the life is indeed going on without my dad. It is all so difficult.

I want to share what I wrote for my dad and read at his memorial:

For all of the hardest things in my life, my dad has been beside me, held me up, and hugged me when I cried.  Today though It feels like half of me is missing.  There are no adequate words to describe the emptiness, the pain, the absolute heartbreak. I don’t even know how to live in a world without my dad.  I thought for a moment I was out of tears, but they continue to fall and fall and fall.  At times it’s hard to breathe, and my body aches to hug him one more time.  I feel broken.  

My dad was someone different for each of you here but... this is my dad for me... He is easy going. He is also fierce and not to be messed with. He is all the cuss words that you can imagine. He is my way or the other my way but never your way. He is Elton John and blackjack in Vegas. He is homemade vanilla ice cream and spaghettios at Gran and Don's on Sunday afternoon. He is game night and dominoes. He is softball all day long. He is the patience that taught me to water ski and to drive a car - now that I think about it perhaps someone else should have handled the 2nd one.  He’s my tow truck driver. My go-to banker. And repo man. He is a Vietnam Veteran. He is GFC, Quality Paint and Body, Charlie Browns, Northwest National Bank, Tarrant Bank and the Corporate Image. He is Williams Shuffleboard. He got me through a rough patch or two.  He has wiped away my tears, spanked my butt, bailed me out of jail and out of debt. He’s a hundred dollar bill just because.  He is cleanly shaven with a hint of coffee and cigarettes.  He is curly hair and blue eyes.  He is an ice-cold Diet Coke on our long drives. He is my Silent Night, my strength, my temper; he is the best damn shuffleboard player I know. He’s my dad.  He is the Grumpy to my children, and he’s forever in our hearts. 

David, you were my dad’s bother, best friend, confidant, a partner in crime, and always by his side through thick and thin. I know he would want you to stay strong and continue the Williams family legacy in shufflleboard and life.  

My hope for my children is that they have the same strong bond that you and my dad have had since you were children.  I would love to see them grow up and stay as close as the two of you have always been.  

David, I love you very much.  
You’re in charge of all us Williams girls now so ... good luck with that.  ❤️

Jeri, I know at the beginning of our relationship things were strained.  I also know that was my fault.  You’ve always been kind to me, even when I was a shit, and let’s face it - I’m a status level expert at being a shit.  Thank you for never giving up on me.  I’m beyond grateful for your friendship and love. My children couldn't ask for a better Nana! You mean the world to us! 

My dad loved you endlessly - you’ve been a huge blessing to him and the entire Williams family.  I know in my heart and soul that you made Dad a better man. He’s always been perfect in my eyes, but there may have been a tiny bit of room for improvement - - - I’m so happy that my children had the best Grumpy ever.  Thank you for loving him and us so wonderfully.  

It is extremely difficult to speak at the memorial of the man that has served as the narrator of my life. In the hours and days since his death, it feel like I’ve lost my words. I suppose it’s because he was the person that provided me with so many of them. 

Dad, your love, your patience (and sometimes lack thereof), your understanding, your wisdom and your fantastic sense of humor mixed with the ability to say everything without saying anything at all will live on inside us forever.  

You have given us gifts that are more precious than anything in this world.  Goodbye, Dad.  You will always live on in my heart. 

Wednesday, January 10, 2018

Waves on the Eve of My Birthday

I finally understand what people mean by the waves now.  They come up fast and continue to knock me over; sometimes without any warning.  Driving, sitting, doing laundry. There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason.  This morning I was productive -I went to have lunch with Nate, ordered some groceries, and went to the bank.  Then this afternoon as I was trying to nap I was so overcome with grief it scared me.  Every inch of my body was hurting, and I could not cry hard enough or scream loud enough.

Later in the day I pulled it together and went and picked up the groceries and it hit me again out of nowhere while I was driving. There is nothing that prepares you for losing a parent. I've found much comfort in words of those that have already walked this path or are currently walking it with me.

If grief is like an ocean, I fear I will never learn to swim.

Tomorrow is my birthday.  The 1st one in my life without my dad.  I think the anticipation of tomorrow may be worse than the actual day.  I am making myself physically sick thinking about it although in reality, how bad can it be really?  It would just be a simple phone call.  Laura Leigh, happy birthday. Love, Your Father.  He used to always send a homemade card, but I hadn't received one of those in a few years. I found a pile of them with some of my pictures -

I get my writing from my mom... I have my baby book, and she wrote down every detail of my 1st year, including the weekend I was born.  I've heard the story a million times from both my mom and my dad.  It varies a bit depending on who is telling the story.

My mom writes on 1/12/73: Laura Leigh was born on the worst day weather-wise that we have seen in 50 years.  It snowed 4" and the streets were quite slick.  Labor pains began at 3:15 AM on January 11, 1973, and I watched her arrive at 6:18 PM.  Daddy was all alone most of the day due to the weather conditions but was all smiles as we came out of the delivery room.  He said "You done good!" and I felt the exact same way!  She is a lovely little girl that looks just like her daddy.

The part that she didn't write and he would often dispute is that it was Super Bowl VII - Miami Dolphins versus the Washington Redskins.  The Dolphins defeated the Redskins by the score of 14–7, and became the first and still the only team in NFL history to complete a perfect undefeated season.  After I was born,
she didn't see him again until Monday, the 15th and that was the 1st time he held me.  Priorities.  He claims he couldn't get back due to the weather.  I've checked that Farmer's Almanac - it was terrible for sure, but I've learned that he was indeed "super-bowling" all weekend! Sounds about right.

The picture above is a photograph from my baby book. I love the way he is looking at me, but mostly I dig that couch! Joking aside, he looked at me that way my entire life.

My mom also wrote a note to me in my baby album that said: "to say he loves you more than anyone would be an understatement."  The way he looked at me, I believe her.

My 45th birthday is going to be a tough one without the man that loved me more than anyone.

Tuesday, January 9, 2018


Journal from Tuesday, January 9, 2018

All I know from my own experience is that the more loss we feel the more grateful we should be for whatever it was we had to lose. It means that we had something worth grieving for. The ones I'm sorry for are the ones that go through life not knowing what grief is.

-Frank O'Connor

Today I am grateful to have had so much worth grieving. 

Monday, January 8, 2018


Sunday, January 8 @9:46 PM

Today was a day of denial. I cried very little. There’s just a constant dreadful feeling that I can’t shake.

All day I kept thinking that I wouldn’t even see my dad on a random Monday, January the 8th. So it should be fine. He would have, however, most likely, butt-dialed me a few times, then called me back to see why I had called him. It was a hilarious vicious cycle.

I still have two voicemails from him on my phone. They both say the same exact thing ...

“Laura Leigh, call your father. Thank you” ❤️

He always called me Laura Leigh never Laura and usually still... Laura Leigh Williams when I was in trouble. I never called him father so it always made me laugh when he would leave that message.

Facebook didn’t tag dad with this photo tonight - it tagged me.

 — with Bobby Williams.

Glorious Mess

Monday, January 8, 2017 @ 5p

Ian Ivory has offered to wash my hair for me. I guess it’s time. I’ve started to embrace the mess. I’m not sure there’s much glorious about it right now. #Flammable

Sunday, January 7, 2018

Baby Steps

Journaling from January 7, 2018 (9:17 PM)

I’m super tired tonight but wanted to document my day. - Today was so much better than yesterday. I had brunch with a great friend, and we spent hours chatting about our dads. It was therapeutic for us both.  ♥️ -Bonus! I put on jeans AND a bra today! 🙌🏼 Baby Steps.

My mom & pop came over to bring some of my favorite comfort food this afternoon. I do love food! I think the entire family was thankful for some home cooking. Three of our neighbors have either brought food or offered to bring food, so my kids are feeling more confident about their ultimate survival this week. We somehow have 16 boxes of cereal, but we seem to be entirely out of milk. It’s fine; it’s fine.

It was nice to sit and chat about Dad. Being an only child, I’ve felt a bit alone with my childhood memories of Dad. It was nice to talk with my mom about my dad and look at super old pictures. She helped fill in some of the gaps.

I read her what I’ve written so far for my dad’s memorial we both laughed and cried. Which is about how my entire day has gone. Laughing and crying. It felt good to laugh today.

This week will be tough. Saturday is going to be wonderfully awful. I need the closure, but I also know it will make everything feel so final.

Thanks to everyone for all of your kind words, comments, private messages, texts, and calls. Each one has touched my heart.

This picture has been framed on my dad’s desk for as long as I can remember. It’s now perfectly placed (in the same broken frame) on my bedside table. ♥️

Again, FB automatically tagged Dad in this photo. It missed me this time. Thankfully FB didn’t recognize my naked little booty.
 — with Bobby Williams.

Prom Pictures with Dad and More Grief

Journaling from Sunday, January 7, 2018 (1:29 AM)

It’s so late, but I just can’t sleep tonight. Today has been my worst day so far. I really can’t believe there are tears left. There were so, so many tears and even full-blown snot bubbles. Gross. I’m disgusting. I cried so hard tonight that I threw up. I miss my dad so much. The thought of not seeing him ever again is just too much. 
We’ve been working on his memorial and tribute video. I’ve listened to 1 million of the saddest songs ever. I’m still listening to them. I can’t stop. We had such a special relationship - not like a ‘Butterfly Kisses’ relationship but more like a ‘That’s My Job’ by Conway Twitty relationship. I’ve always been a full-time job! He was my guy! The one that bailed me out of all of my messes! So many messes! I even miss him rolling his eyes at me. I miss everything about him. 
On another note, I got angry at Ian today. For no reason. Just because anger and he’s been so patient with me. There’s a spot on his chest that holds all of my tears. Every shirt he’s worn this week has my tears on them. He holds me and lets me cry. Sometimes he cries with me, but he’s been my rock. - Baby! This is me thanking you for loving me through this. Snot bubbles and all. 
Since I’m so sad and feel a bit bad for being so depressing every day, I’ll share some awesome 1990s prom pictures for your enjoyment. My kids think they’re hilarious! 
1990 Junior Year - my dad wore his usual clothes - he lived in coaching shorts! 

1991 Senior Year - I feel like my mom, Cheryl Doublin DeJulius probably bossed him and made him wear a suit for the prom pictures. Bossy pants. She may have even bought it for him

Friday, January 5, 2018

Grumpy Smiles

Journaling from Friday, January 5th, 2018

I’m so tired tonight. Grief is exhausting. Today marks one week without my dad. It was a terrible morning filled with a lot of tears but I showered, dressed, and got out of the house. Still in sweatpants but there was a bra today! 
I got to spend some time with my step-mom, Jeri Williams this afternoon. We were trying to narrow down the 487 photos that we had collectively gathered, scanned, and uploaded of Dad. I felt like we made excellent progress, but I think we only got our ‘favorites’ folder down to 325 for the memorial. We both laughed and cried while looking through all of the photos together. 
I especially loved looking at old photos of Dad when my girls were babies!! They love their Grumpy and Nana so much! Here are a few of our favorites today. They’re mostly of Emma and Sophie ... I think because Nate never slowed down enough for pictures unless his blood sugar was low. Then he would sit w his Grumpy.  

Thursday, January 4, 2018

Grief is Exhausting

Today was much like the days before except I got up out of bed this morning and helped get the kiddos back to school. That was exhausting.  

I put on pants. Sweatpants. But no bra. It’s fine; it’s fine. I took Emma to the orthodontist, but I didn't go inside because... no bra.

I mostly went through pictures of my dad all day. I love looking at pictures of him, and today I super love this one ♥️. Facebook tagged my mom, my dad, and me which is rather impressive. 

My dad’s pants are amazing! Does that tie match the pants? What is happening there?

My mom’s outfit is on point! She looks so cute. I bet she made my dad go to church for Easter. I bet he rolled his eyes - a lot.

And you can see - I’m a snappychat filter before snappychat filters were even a thing.  🐰

My parents divorced before my 1st birthday, so I don’t remember them being married at all. They couldn’t be more opposite, so I always laugh a little when I see them together as a couple. They both have told me that I’m the only good thing that came from their marriage, but I only remember them getting along always and loving me so well my entire life. All (almost) 45 years of it. Parenting goals!
 — with Cheryl Doublin DeJulius and Bobby Williams.

Wednesday, January 3, 2018

Breaking Down

Another tough day. I stayed in bed most of the day. I couldn’t find the strength to remove myself from its comfort. It’s like my fortress of denial. I just want to sleep and forget the world around me. In my fortress, I’m safe and don’t have to face the reality of the world continuing to turn. 
When I was at Target yesterday, I bought all the jammies I could find. My thinking at the time was that I don’t want to get dressed and function so I’ll just buy all jammies ... I’ll never get dressed again anyway. 
Unfortunately, my current mom status doesn’t allow such indulgences. Around two this afternoon I removed myself from my bed and showered. Then dressed. Not in jammies. 
Ian and I took the kids to see Jumanji which was very good. I laughed at the movie but then cried because... grief. 
I’ve been most worried about Nate. He’s taken my dad’s death the hardest. He told me “Mommy, I cried harder than Emma and Sophie.” He and Dad had a special bond because I’m relatively sure dad always wanted an athletic son and well, all he got was me!! So Nate was the next closest thing!! They also both had insulin pumps, Dexcoms, blood sugar checks, and all of the exhausting things that go along with diabetes. I think they admired each other’s strength equally. This picture was taken Saturday the 23rd as our family was all together celebrating the holidays.  ❤️
As I was writing this and worrying about Nate this evening, it was Emma that had a complete breakdown. I found her sobbing in her room. Tomorrow is her 1st basketball game since Christmas break and Saturday when we saw Grumpy he promised her he would be there. We cried and cried. And then cried some more. She will be ok - we will be ok but tomorrow will be tough. 
I’ve always felt like a strong warrior mom since I’ve always fought fiercely for them but this fight isn’t for them - it’s for me, and it’s so hard. I just feel tired and broken and sad.
Edited to add that I read every comment and I’m so grateful for each and every one. They’ve made me laugh, cry, and feel so less alone on this journey.

Tuesday, January 2, 2018


Today I woke up so very sad. I wondered if I was crying in my dream or if I just never stopped from the night before?! It was the first day Ian has gone to work since before Christmas. He was gone when I woke up, being completely alone with my sadness was overwhelming. Probably needed but still overwhelming.

The kiddos returned home today, so I knew I had to attempt a bit of normalcy before they arrived. I had to go to Target to return some sheets I purchased for dad’s hospice bed, pick up some milk, and other household staples. The familiarity of Target and grocery shopping was too much. I cried a lot at the Target.

Surely, there should be some sign we should be able to wear when we are grieving to let others know - perhaps the homeless chic attire should have given it away, but I’m fairly sure I looked like that most days even while my dad was still alive. We need something more obvious - like the Scarlet Letter but instead of an A perhaps just G for grieving or an M for mourning?!?

Someone honked at me today while I was driving and I screamed inside my car ... MY DAD JUST DIED! Then I laughed at myself until I started crying again. Is that even normal? I’m going with yes, yes it is.

I picked up ESN from their dad’s house this afternoon. I screamed at them on the drive home and used 327 F-Bombs because Sophie and Nate immediately started fighting in the backseat. Then I started cry-yelling (that’s a word!) at them that I would never ever see my dad again. Then we all started crying. For sure not one of my finest mom moments. I can only hope that they will show me so much grace and one day understand that this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to navigate as a parent.

So, that’s my day in a nutshell. I probably won’t share every day but writing is my therapy, and one year from today I will be able to look back and see how far I’ve come ...

I love that when I loaded this photo, Facebook automatically tagged my dad.  ♥️
 — with Bobby Williams.

Just a Mom

I am NOT a doctor, nor do I play one on this blog.

I AM a wife.
I AM the mom of 3 wonderful children.
I AM my son's pancreas.

The information provided on this blog is from our personal experiences with Type 1 diabetes. Because something works for us does not mean it will work for you.

Please consult your doctor if you have any questions or concerns about your health care options.

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