My cousin, Donna, and the rainbow

Since writing and sharing about that horrible moment at the hospital, yesterday, it seemed to me that I had dug a hole in the "pity" realm and it would be difficult to climb out.  This writing was so negative in my thoughts that I contemplated giving up this blog altogether.

As a kid, I couldn't even watch Lassie movies because I knew there would be crying and crisis and drama all the way through.  I tried to tell myself that the ending would be happy, but I just could not deal with the drama.

So, how was I ever going to verbalize what I needed to, without seeming like a victim?  There were some funny things that happened while Dan was recovering and I could write about them.  I may still write about some of the funny stuff.

However, I know that over all, I do not want to live those eleven years of pain over again.  My kids don't need to relive those years because I tried to protect them from the pain while it happened.  And my immediate family doesn't even know some of the stuff that went on, because I did not tell them.  After all, they were dealing with their own stories.  So, what was this writing thing all about?

Why did I feel compelled to come all the way to Wisconsin?  What was it that I needed to say about my life and the pain that this drunk driver put into our lives?  I really didn't know where this was headed.

So, I put up the keyboard and stopped writing for the night.  I did some "retail therapy" and then drove to the cemetery to clean off the headstones!  After all, the baby needed some Oshkosh B'Gosh and the stones needed to be spiffy for the service Friday morning!!

The skies were angry as I drove Rt. 41 to 47 north to Shawano.  Fast moving clouds and storms were in the area with dark clouds to the East.  Then, if I turned around there was blue sky to the West with puffy white clouds moving quickly.  I'm not used to seeing so many miles in 360 degrees around me.  At home, mountains cut off the view for the most part.

After I parked and before I entered the Oshkosh B'Gosh store, I messaged my cousin, Donna.  I know that she is an avid reader and would be able to critique my blog, as I knew she was following it.

My message read, "Hi - I was wondering if you had a chance to read my posts and what do you think?  I need a reader to critique.  Am I doing anything wrong, am I doing anything right?  What do you think?"

The message did not come right away but then after shopping, I received from her, the message that I came all this way to hear.

From her message, I learned that I didn't come here only to write my story.  I came here to prove to myself that it did take strength to get through my life.  It made me realize that I came to Dan's hometown to push away, to bury and to pulverize the extreme guilt that I have carried with me for the seventeen years since I left my husband in 2000.

All those years, I said to myself, "If he is like this next year, I'll have to leave."  Then I heard the little voice in my head, "In sickness and in health, until death do you part."

One by one, I counted off the years to eleven, and each year I stuck it out one more time.  I did this because of stories of people whose spouse was injured or lost limbs or became paralyzed and then the comments from people who said, "If that happened to my spouse I would stay with them for sure.  How could anyone leave their spouse because of an accident, when they are disabled?"

I even made a speech one day at Calvary Baptist Church Sunday School about how Satan was NOT going to pull my family apart.  I would stand by Dan forever because of my vows, before God and in public.  The minister also had me talk to the Sunday congregation about Jonah and my experience with the accident.

Have you ever heard someone say, "Get away from all negative people.  Just put them out of your life."  How do you do that when it is your spouse?

I found myself hoping and praying that he would leave me because, then people couldn't say that I left a sick man.

But then, even after telling the whole church I would, I couldn't stay forever.  One day I melted and broke.  Mentally and physically, I was exhausted, I was human and I gave up.

I walked out the door and went to my parents home.  In fact he drove me there because we only had one vehicle.

From that day, for the next seventeen years, I felt so much guilt that I started to complain to whomever would listen about his treatment of me.  I told the story over and over again about the accident.  I had to turn away from the love I still had for him.  I had to make him my enemy because otherwise, people would talk and blame me for walking out on him.

I had an emotional/mental breakdown.  You've heard of "functioning alcoholics", well, I was a "functioning emotional wreck".  I was even laid off from a job at Penn State because, I was causing a morale decline in our office, as I came in and cried at my desk most mornings.  Employers especially do not understand clinical depression.

When I came out of Oshkosh B'Gosh, there was a reply from my cousin.

In Donna's reply to me she said, (written with permission) "Yes, I am reading them.  It would be easier to critique if it were fiction.  This is your life, your journey and should be written as your thoughts and feelings flow.  If this were fiction, I would tell you that so far I love it, you're holding my interest.  There's laughter and deep sadness and I'm anxiously awaiting the next chapter.  But this is the real Cathy, real life.  I want to hug you.  I want to tell you how incredibly brave you are.  I want to tell you how sorry I am.  I want to tell you how proud of you I am.  So I guess I'm trying to tell you that your words are having a deep impact on me and that is what a good writer does.  I'm not qualified to grade you on the mechanics of your writing.  One of the lines that really stood out to me and I loved was the one about "the tapestry of our lives being torn into pieces"  Not sure if I quoted it exactly.  You are a very talented writer and I hope that someday you will write that novel.  Until then, may you find the peace you deserve and the release of any undeserved guilt that writing this blog can give you.  I know this isn't the reader's critique you were looking for.  Just know that you have my support and encouragement.  You go girl. I love you."

After reading her reply, of course I choked up, this was a week for sudden tears and that always makes me SO mad.  I want to talk when I'm being emotional but sometimes the tears just flow and words won't come out.  I thought about what she said on my trip to Kohl's, my next shopping destination.

As I traversed the store, it dawned on me that I didn't come here to write the negative things. Nor did I come to make amends with Dan for leaving him.  I came here to free myself of the burden of guilt that I carried for leaving him.

Logically, I know I've been forgiven by God.  As a Christian, I know that I'm not perfect but that I am forgiven.  However, I find it easier to forgive others of transgressions against me, than to forgive myself for the stupid/awful things I've done in this life.

I believe in signs and wonders.  I've had a few signs that God has sent my way over the years. But I was floored when I came out of the Kohl's store.

There before me, was a complete rainbow.  A covenant that God made between Him and His people, that He would never again destroy the Earth.  Rainbows have a special meaning for me.

Thanks to my cousin, Donna, and God's rainbow sign, I learned why I made this pilgrimage.

This won't be the final writing in this blog, after all.  It is, however, a turning point for what I'll be writing about.  I hope to hold your attention and give you some things to laugh at, as well as, some things to ponder in your life.  I will write more about the memorial service that happened this morning because it confirmed my beliefs and was a very pleasant experience.

Godspeed,
The Real Cathy

The Cemetery, but I know Dan isn't here

DISCLAIMER:  This post may be too graphic toward the end, in describing events at the hospital for some people.  Please do not read this post, if it will cause emotional pain for you.  It is not the intent.

About an hour north of Oshkosh is the town of Shawano.  It sits on Wolf Lake and is the town where Dan was born on August 16, 1951, and where he passed away on August 5, 2006.

This is the physical destination of my current trip, but I know that he is not here.

Writing about death and cemeteries is not something that I want to do.  I want to write encouraging things for empowerment in life.  I want to make you laugh and brighten your day.  How am I doing so far?

It is said that you have to be sad sometimes to know how good you feel when you are happy.  (ha)

Woodlawn is a very old cemetery and there are mega, hundreds, maybe even a million headstones.  During my visit, I was reminded about the day I was casually talking to my Mom on the phone.

I asked her if she had a nice weekend and she said, "Oh, yes.  It was really nice.  Your Dad and I went to DuBois to the cemetery and we found some headstones that we have been looking for."

You see, this is what a genealogy hobby can do to a person.  They loved walking through cemeteries.  Me, not so much.

In addition to having MANY and varied stone markers, they seemed to all be facing different directions!  In Newton Cemetery, all of the markers are facing the same way and you can look for names, most times without getting out of your car.  Not so with this place.

There is a beautiful chapel in the midst of the graves.  It was built in the early 1900's and honors the men who served our country in the military.

Just outside of the chapel are benches that people can use to sit and contemplate, pray (because the chapel isn't always open) and just be quiet.

Each bench has the insignia of a branch of the service.  Which bench do you think I chose?  Remember from my earlier post?  In which branch of the service did Dan serve?  You must be paying attention.... there will be a test.  (ha)

He absolutely LOVED his time in the Marine Corps.  Yes, that is the one I chose.  Even though I am the daughter of, the mother of and the wife of Army Veterans, at this point in time, I had to choose the USMC.  Semper Fi

After driving down one road and the next in Woodlawn, I realized I would need Dan's sister's help.  Now, here is a story for you, that you may not believe, but it is the absolute truth...

The day before my visit here, I sent a text message to my former sister-in-law.  The text told her that I would be going to the cemetery in the morning and could she help me to better locate the graves by giving me a street address.  The text message went unanswered.

Many years ago, Dan had brought me here to visit his dad's grave and that of his infant brother, Andy.  I thought I knew a vicinity to look, but no luck.  Then, out of all these hundreds of graves I saw the name Lee Gerhard who had passed in 1980.  I knew this man!

Lee, whom Dan called "Bear", was talked about many times.  He had "unofficially" adopted Dan when he was a teenager because he had a few sons of his own (I think 4) and they lived close enough that Dan was always at their house.  Dan thought the world and all of Bear.  A happy memory, but still not my first husband's grave.

When I got back to my car, low and behold (the part you may not believe) I had a text asking if I was able to locate the graves.  She couldn't give me a street name for the location, but said that she would come and show me, as they were not far from the cemetery and had the rest of the day free.

While I waited and was sitting on the USMC bench, I had time to talk a bit to Dan.  (again, is this weird?)  Remember I can't talk one on one to a person, so I guess, not looking at him, I was finally able to say some things that I wished could have been said, so that he would understand them, in person years ago.

I read through some old journal writings that I had with me and realized what I came here to tell him what that I was so sorry.

I was sorry that the drunk driver had hurt him and I didn't just ask him to come to bed that night.

I was sorry that we didn't have more than 15 years of marriage before the accident.

I was sorry that during the eleven years following the accident, my witness to him and my care giving wasn't enough to help him through his depression and pain.

I was sorry that I betrayed him by leaving him alone on July 27, 2000.

I was sorry that I wasn't strong enough to live with him day to day.

I was sorry that he refused to go to counseling with me to save our marriage.

I was just plain sorry for what he had been put through in life.
=========caution======
Brain injured people have different and varied quirks but one of the things that Dan believed was that somehow, I conspired with the woman who hurt him because I wanted him out of my life.  He blamed me for letting him lay on the road that night.  He believed that I wanted him dead.

Hurtful as that sounds, I could logically understand that, were he in his right mind, he would know that was not true.

Dan was in a coma for two and half weeks.  The woman who hit him did stop and seek help, but it took a while to get help there.

In 1989 there were no cell phones and all the phones in houses were connected by wires to the land line.  So she and her husband banged on a couple doors until finally someone let them in to call 911.

What happened was this:  Dan closed up the store we owned at 9:00 pm.  He came home and upstairs where I was reading in bed.  He said he was going out for his nightly "constitutional" and went to kiss our girls good night.

I heard them giggling and then it was quiet.  I rolled over and went to sleep (so you see I was not part of the conspiracy) and was awakened about an hour and half later by a knock on our kitchen door.

It was our neighbor, Nancy, who told me that Dan had been hit by a car.  We stood in the doorway and she asked to pray.  At this time I was thinking perhaps he had a broken bone but I knew everything would be ok.

Immediately, I called my Mom and Dad so that someone could come sit with the kids while I went to pick up Dan at the ER.

After that, my doctor called on the phone.  (Oh to have caring doctors like this today)  He said that he heard that Dan had been taken to the hospital and he was sure that he would be well taken care of.  However, if there was a bigger issue, he would meet me at the ER.

My Mom stayed with the girls and Dad drove me to the hospital.  I remember the night as if it was yesterday because the weather was crystal clear.  So balmy and not a cloud in the sky.  I remember looking at the moon and thinking, Bailey Lane, where he was walking, was mostly deserted, especially at that time of night.  How could a car have hurt him?  How could this happen?

We arrived at the hospital and I was met by a nurse who told me that I could not go back to where Dan was and that Dr. Schell would be out shortly to talk with me.  I was escorted to a small room and told to wait.  I started to realize that this must be more serious than a broken bone, but I couldn't imagine what lay ahead.

Soon I saw Dr. Schell's familiar face, as he came into the room.  He was somber and I complained that they wouldn't allow me to see Dan.

He said, "That's because Dan is not himself right now.  You wouldn't want to see him until they get him stable."

He went on to say that in his opinion it was very critical and that I should call my pastor because he couldn't guarantee that Dan would live through the night.  They were going to life flight him to the trauma center in Danville.

I suppose I was in shock because all these things were just words.  I couldn't understand what was happening, let alone believe this was happening.  It must be a dream... I had to wake up from this dream because I didn't like it.

But it was not a dream.

Soon I called my pastor who came to be with us.

Then Dr. Schell escorted me back into the room where Dan was being treated.  Even today, I can't hold back the tears, remembering.

I'm sorry.... please stop reading, if this bothers you.  I only wish I could stop writing about it, but I can't.  I have to take it out of my head and put it in print.  There HAS to be a reason, that I know not, for me to be compelled to write Dan's story.  This is his story, not mine.

Maybe you have been through something similar and you will not feel alone, now.  I have no idea why this needs to be written.  God knows.

The ER was pretty well open at that time, but as I remember it, the gurney where Dan was laying was the only thing in the room.  I nearly didn't recognize him with all the wires and breathing tubes and neck brace, etc.

I was weak in my knees, the doctor was holding onto my arm.  I went closer to his side and noticed blood from his ear and blood on his face and blood all over.  His blood.  My husband's blood.

Putting my hand to my mouth, I whispered, "Wash his face, please wash his face."

The doctor calmly said, "They will wash him soon.  We had too many other things to deal with right now as they are prepping him for the life flight to the trauma center in Danville. But he is being well cared for."

Perhaps this is harder for me than the reader because I lived through it.  My next post should not be as sad as this and again, I'm sorry to make public something so difficult.  I just feel like it needs to be written and I try to listen to that inner voice of mine.

"Always Leave Them Laughing" is a 1949 musical comedy-drama film, starring Milton Berle.  I agree with the premise, so, how can I leave you laughing?

Here is how.... As I watched the helicopter leave Mt. Nittany, I thought how very angry Dan was going to be (and he could get angry) when he woke up and realized that he slept through a helicopter ride.  (ha)

By the way, I was right about that.

Putting down my writing until tomorrow probably.  The memorial service will be at 10:30 am Central time.  I'm off to get some Oshkosh B'Gosh outfits for my grands.

The Real Cathy

August 16, 2017 would have been birthday 66 for Dan

When planning our wedding day, we chose August 17, 1974, because it was on a Saturday and it was a day after Dan's birthday.  I always told him that, if I was able to remember his birthday, then he had NO EXCUSE but to remember our anniversary.  That worked for fifteen years, until his traumatic brain injury changed him and took many of his short term memories and some of the long term ones, as well.

So many things are going through my head while I'm on this personal journey, but I believe that I'm experiencing just the things that I came all this way to find.  When I began, I knew that I had to be by myself and I had to be close to where Dan lived the last years of his life.

A few months ago, I read (and you know you can't believe everything that you read) that the difference between meditation and praying is this:  In meditation a person tries to stop the thoughts from coming into your mind.  The person meditating makes an "oom" sound and in that way, can not receive thoughts.

With prayer, the person praying pulls thoughts into their mind so that they can process them, give them to God or file them away for future reference.

There is no way that I have to know if this was correct, although it seemed reasonable to me.  But I do know that trying to keep all the thoughts out of my head over the last three days would have caused a pressure build up surrounding the outside of my brain that might have crushed my skull.

I also know that if I listen and receive the thoughts, I can sometimes hear God's Word for my soul.  But, I sure have to listen carefully.

I am so appreciative of my family and want each of you to know how much I am grateful for you allowing me this pilgrimage.  Even though this is a personal trip, my immediate family has shown in their own ways how they are supporting me and truly that I am important to them.

I know that it is not easy to be without me for a week.  (cough cough)  I also know that while I'm away, I remain in your thoughts and prayers.  I'm doing well and will see you soon.

Yesterday, I started my day with coffee and the most delicious omelet, made to order just for me. I had a side order of link sausage a dish of watermelon and I took the muffin back to my room for a late night snack.  Normally, I have a couple pieces of cinnamon toast and a cup of coffee.  Then, after breakfast, God provided someone to "nourish my soul".

You see, for the past 28 years, as of August 23, the night of my first husband's brain injury, I have had a number of crises.  One would think that a spouses brain injury might be enough for anyone, but even after that there was the fact of my single parenthood with all its many joys.  There was trying to maintain the life of a doomed retail business that I had started a year after graduation from high school.  I was also working forty hours a week at a job that gave me a paycheck for "luxuries like food and clothes" and then a bankruptcy and a near foreclosure on the house we lived in for 25+ years, as well as, moving from that house to "downsize" which really meant tearing the tapestry of our family life to pieces.

The last seven years, thanks to my incredible husband, Steve, has been a time for me to take a rest.  There were no more emergency to emergency times in my life and if something came up, he was there as a sounding block to help me process through whatever it was.  Also, he is very generous in allowing me to journey back to the place of my first husband's birth and death.  I believe that Steve "saved my life".

So, people could say that I might be bitter because of all these things.  But I'm not.  God helps pull me out of some valleys and just yesterday morning I'm sure it was God who sent a little message for me.

Do you remember that maid, from my post on Aug. 15, who forgot to empty the trash in the bathroom which gave me complimentary breakfasts?  Well, her name is Jean and I met her yesterday morning as she came in to tidy my room.

At first I was worried that I had caused her some grief by my little complaint about the trash can but she never mentioned it and I sure wasn't about to.  After she had finished making my bed (what a luxury hotel!) and emptying the trash, she was about ready to leave, but made a comment which caused a conversation to start.

She said, "You are really a very neat person.  There is so little to do and it is such a pleasure to take care of your room."

At this point in my post, I can actually hear my husband and my girls laughing big belly laughs at the thought of me being tidy.

So, just stop it!

So I thanked her and told her that this was the first time in my life to be alone for something that was so personal to me and explained just a bit about why I would be here for the week.  I could see that she got tears in her eyes as I was talking.

Then she said that she had buried her husband a number of years ago and just three years ago, her daughter died, leaving a one year old baby girl.  (I thought of my own 6 month old granddaughter) She then talked a little about her daughter and how she felt that her daughter had helped her locate an "Olaf" doll in the store a while ago.  She said, " It was the only thing my four year old granddaughter wanted for her birthday and I couldn't find it. As I searched I got lost in the store and then, in a place where I would never have looked, there it was!  It was on the shelf right in front of me.  It was a miracle."  She lowered her voice and said, "I know it was her."

Quietly, I said, "It's one thing to bury a spouse, but I can't even imagine if one of my girls passed away."  Then I remembered the day that my daughter's best friend was hit by a car in Boalsburg.

Kris and I stood in our driveway with one of our neighbors and prayed that the rumors were not true.  We prayed and cried out loud, to no avail.  She was 16 years old and she was gone.

It was in the days of walkman radios and she was walking with the earphones in, listening to music.  She didn't notice that the light was red, in front of her and tried to cross Rt. 322, when a car could not stop in time and hit her.  Her family was forever changed in that brief moment.

That's the thing about head injury too.  It is a family issue and not just an injury to that person.  So it was with Dan's injury.  Our whole family was hurt that night.  We had two young girls, who Dan and I promised to raise as our own.  This was not supposed to happen.

Well then, I told you to expect some "raw emotion" and I sure was feeling it yesterday.  I'm sorry if my words made you cry, my grandmother always said that sometimes a "good cry" was necessary.

Please remember as you go through this journey with me that I am processing all of this in a short time and that my current life is wonderful.  It is now filled with vacations and cruises and a new grandbaby who is the light of my life.  As I've always been told, "This too shall pass."

So, don't cry.  My story comes out just fine.  As I would tell my kids during violence in a movie...."It's only ketchup."

I'll end here so that I don't lose this while I write my next post about the rest of yesterday's events, while looking for Dan's grave and meeting up with my former sister-in-law for the first time in 17 years.

The Real Cathy

Day 1 of my journey - I have arrived

So, here I am in Wisconsin, having driven through Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana and Illinois to get here.  771 miles to be exact.

I'm in a hotel room. TV is off.  I'm in my lounging mode and I'm typing my story.  My first thought as I put my fingers on the keyboard was, "Now what do I say?"

I sort of feel like I'm someone else and not me.  Maybe a famous writer, who ACTUALLY has time to write.  But, happily, it's me and I'm actually doing this...the real Cathy.

Just a little background, I've wanted to be a writer ever since I was a young girl.  I loved English, in good ole CCHS, with Mr. Lamont. I had the added benefit of having him as a next door neighbor, but I was too shy back then to even say one or two words to him, in school or out.  He was my teacher, after all.  I did babysit for his little kids once in a while and as I remember it, his wife would pay me with rolled up dollar bills and I would snatch it from her hand, not wanting to look at what I'd earned, and run home.  I did let them know the kids were still living, but I really can't believe I was that much of an introvert back then.  Teachers were i-n-t-i-m-i-d-a-t-i-n-g.

I also wrote some things for my church youth group, presenting an Easter Sunrise message in 1971.  I think the real pastor didn't want to get up that early, or something.  Nah, that wasn't it, Sorry pastor, it was a youth service and I was the only one with gumption to stand at the podium.  Now, isn't that ironic... I can stand up in front of a group of people, but can't talk one on one to my teacher?  Another teacher, Miss Shaffer, in speech class gave me a "B-" because she saw my knees shaking.

The content of that sunrise message is long gone from my memory but, it just so happened that my future husband was in the congregation that morning.  He was visiting me, on leave from the Marine Corps stationed in Cherry Point, NC.  We would be engaged by 1973 and married in 1974 (even AFTER he heard me speak. lol)

Seriously, I believe that I have a calling to write about my experiences in life because God has certainly given me enough to write about, and a gift for writing that I haven't been able to use.  Knowing that there are people out in the world, each one having a story, I just may be able to relate to a few of them in their journey, whether it is with care giving a brain injured spouse or adoption. It gives comfort when we know we are not alone in things.

In 1989, I wrote my first professional article, so on my resume, I added "professional writer". (Ha)  I was paid $50 by State College the Magazine to write a story.  This was, in my humble opinion, the first step into my world of writing fame.  I was about to be the next Samuel Clemons, or so I thought, but that wasn't meant to be.  To everything there is a season.

The article was about adoption and the triad comprised of the adoptee, the birth-mother and the adoptive parent.  Since I had met the mothers of both my adopted daughters and was raising two girls whom I had not given life, I thought I was an expert.  The article was titled:  "Building a Family: Adoption as an option".

Question... Can you become an expert only through experience or do you have to have some formal schooling to be considered an expert?  I'd love to hear your opinions, feel free to comment.  My journey with adoptions will be part of my writings later, however this week the focus is on the visit to my first husband's grave and his and my life journey as it went.

Ironically, the article for "State College the Magazine" was published in the August 1989, issue.  My newly found confidence that I could be a famous writer, took a very very back seat that same month when on August 23, 1989, my husband, Dan, was hit by a car.

He suffered severe brain injuries, I became a caregiver for him as well as a single mother, raising two young girls, three and nine years old.  No time for writing now, God's plan is never flawed, but I'm sure glad that He doesn't let us see into the future, because I would have never thought I had enough strength to get to the other side of this journey.

August, truly does hold some roller coaster emotions for me.

Now, getting back to the present, it's been a good trip thus far.  I'm staying at the Hilton Garden Inn, in Oshkosh, WI.  I love Hilton. When I got here, I noticed that the maid had not emptied the trash can in the bathroom.  "horror"  I thought to myself, "ewww" but there wasn't anything really nasty, so I went about my task of unpacking my suitcase.

Soon, the hotel phone rang and it was the front desk.  She asked if my room was satisfactory and if there was anything I needed.  (I love Hilton for the attention they pay to me.  I feel like I am somebody)  They don't know that I do not have maid service at home.  I said all was fine, but then said, "I don't mean to be petty, but the maid didn't empty the trash in the bathroom from the last guest."

Well, low and behold, she gave me three complimentary breakfasts ($11.00 value each) for the inconvenience.  When I went to pick up the coupons, I told her I was embarrassed at getting such a nice gift for such a small miss by the maid.  She told me that we pay "good money" for our visit and they wanted everything to be perfect.  Besides, I think she knew I would tell my friends.

It is Hilton, after all.

So, I'm going back to lounging and watching TV.  I will be updating this blog again soon. Tomorrow would have been Dan's 66th birthday, I plan to go by myself, for the first time, to his graveside and talk with him a little bit.  (Is that weird?)  I'm sure I'll have a good account for you next time I update.

I hope you enjoy reading my journey and feel free to comment with any questions or comments of your own.  I may miss some vital pieces as we go and don't want you to be confused.  Anyone can comment. (I think.)  I'm new at this too, so give me a shout out on Facebook if you run into any problems.

The Real Cathy

The Beginning of my Blog

This is my personal blog site. I'm sharing my journey in life, if you want to come along, because I believe that there are others out there who have traveled similar roads to mine.

There is no exciting reason for you to read my posts.  I'm not famous, I'm not all that bombastic, but I am real, just like some of you.  You will read some raw feelings, I imagine, from time to time, as it will be like looking into my journal. 

The first week of posts will be about a journey to my ex-husband's grave site and a reconciliation with my ex-sister-in-law.  He passed away over 10 years ago and I didn't feel comfortable attending his funeral, nor have I had the courage to address some things with myself or his sister.

It is a journey across 4 states and I'll be driving by myself.  This is a first for me as I have been so very co-dependent for most of my life.  But, this trip, I'm looking forward to.

I was asked why it was going to take a week to visit a grave and my answer was that I will be writing and meditating and praying as I go.  It was a long marriage with some very difficult periods of time that I have to process in my mind.

Using this blog as a way to process a lifetime of what ifs and "woulda, shoulda, couldas" is my goal.  I have to forgive myself for some things, I have to forgive others of things and I have to inventory some things and put them on the shelf of "I did the best I could".

So, you're welcome to come with me as I work through my life.  I'm looking forward to starting this journey tomorrow (8/14/17)  You see, August was the month we were married, he was born, he died, he was hit by a car and he was buried.  Until about 28 years ago, it was a happy month and then, slowly it turned into a month that I would rather skip right by.

It won't all be sad.... I'm hoping for some funny spots along the journey and I'll share those too.  Who knows what a sixty something year old woman can get into when she is on her own for a week, for the first time in her life.

This should be fun.