H-O-R-S-E...

One of my earliest memories is laying on an air mattress in a pool that sat in my Granny's yard. My Mom was standing beside me and I had my eyes closed because the sun was bright. When I opened them, there was a horse standing over me and I got so excited I almost flipped off of the air mattress.

I don't know who the horse belonged to, or if it was usually in my Granny's yard, but I think that was the first time I remember being excited to see a horse.

I always wanted a horse growing up. I asked for a horse on every birthday and Christmas list. When I saw it wasn't happening, I took to whispering my wish into birthday candles and Santa's ear.

I was sure that if I weren't so terribly allergic to them, my parents would have found a way for me to get to have my own horse. But, I was so very, terribly allergic to horses.

Every once in a while I would talk my uncle into letting me ride his horse, but I would inevitably end up being taken to the hospital for breathing treatments and whopping doses of antihistamines . . .it was in my mind, always worth it.

Fast forward many years, to today. Horses still take my breath away, and I still wish for one, but it would seem I'm no longer allergic.

This morning I joined a caregivers group with horses at Medicine Horse Program. I searched online for a local place to go be around horses without riding them. It's not that I don't want to ride a horse, just that I haven't since I was a child and didn't want to jump right into it before knowing how I would do with allergies.

When I found this program I thought it was worth a shot, since it was targeted to caregivers who also want to be around horses. Seemed like a good fit.

So this morning I woke up early and joined this group along with two life coaches and two horses. There were some Kumbaya moments, to be sure, and I was a bit skeptical about how a horse was supposed to help with the emotions a caregiver experiences. But I was not expecting that all the emotions just under the surface for me were the ones around the last months of being a caregiver for my Mom.

I got to visit with this sweet horse Noble, and tell her about my Momma and how much I missed her. In return, Noble took away some of the heaviness I've been holding onto since I lost Mom almost 3 years ago. And with the shake of her beautiful brown mane showed me how to let it go.

Horses are incredible animals, with a unique way of interacting with humans.  I don't know if I'll go back every month for this experience, but I learned a few things today.  And who knows, maybe I'll get back to blowing out my birthday candles with a wish for a horse of my own some day.

It's December 23rd, and I couldn't feel less in the spirit of Christmas if I tried.

I think last year I must have still just been in a shock.  Trying to keep up the "it's okay, we're okay, we're having Christmas because that's what Momma would have wanted." idea.

But this year?  I'm empty of Christmas cheer.  I don't want to bake a single cookie.  I don't want the tree up.  I don't want to listen to the music.  I don't care about presents under the tree.  I've given out all the goodwill I can.  This year, I just want my mom.  That's all I want.  Just one more hug.  One more laugh together.  One more meal together.  I miss her so much.  And this year I feel it more than I did last year.

And I know I'm not the only one.  I lost my Grandpa this month, and our whole family will be spending their first Christmas without him here to do all the things he's always done. My mom's family still miss her and all the things she brought to the family gatherings. It's all so different, and that's always hard to get used to.

I mentioned to Steve I have felt like 2016 has been the loneliest year of my life.  I've been surrounded by family, and caring friends.  2016 has been really an incredible year in so many areas.......such amazing things have happened for our family.   But she missed them all.  She wasn't here for any of them.

My sister and I will get together and try to make some new memories and hold on to our family traditions.  But, this year we might

My Grandpa passed away on Saturday December 3, 2016.

He was a mighty huge part of my upbringing, and I know how fortunate I was to have him in my life for so many years.

His obituary tells the basic story of his life.  He was a minister, and United States Army Veteran. He was a devoted and loving husband to my Grandma for 62 years.  And  he had 6 children, 15 grandchildren, and 11 great-grandchildren.  All of these things make up his legacy.

But, the obituary doesn't tell the story of who he was to me.  To me, he was a giant.  He was the most kind, genuine, loving person I have ever known.  I never heard him speak an unkind word about another person.  Even when he would get frustrated about a situation, he wasn't unkind about it.  He wasn't a scholar, but he was wise.  He wasn't wealthy, but he had "riches that many folks don't have." He never went to college, but he taught me more lessons than I can count.

My Grandpa woke up every morning and read his bible.  He would watch the birds and squirrels out his window and he would pray. Mornings with Grandpa were some of my favorite memories.  I wasn't an early riser, but when I spent the night at their house I was always okay to wake up just a little bit earlier than my siblings or cousins to get in on that special time.  He would explain to me what he had read, or told me stories of when he was a child on a farm.  If we were at our place at the lake, we would spend the chilly early mornings outside.  I would gather sticks while he built a fire for us to cook breakfast outside.  He would sing to the mockingbirds, and we would collect funny shaped rocks.

Christmas with Grandpa was always an exceptionally special time.  He loved having his entire family around to read the Christmas story.  I would try to find my way to his lap, or tucked beside him when I got too big for his lap.  He voice boomed when he read.  His bible was passed around and each family member would take a verse.  He would tell the little ones to "speak up", encouraging us all to be confident in our voice.

My parents had to figure out the whole parenting thing - but Grandma and Grandpa had already perfected it.  So when we came along, they were a second set of parents. Experienced parents...who got to spoil us.  They didn't shower us with gifts, they showered us with love and undivided attention. Any family vacation we went on, we would go with them.  They took me on several trips to Missouri, Arkansas, and Texas.  Plus plenty of trips to see different parts of Oklahoma.

A place for London...

Sitting in grief...

I haven't been here in a while. I've had other means of getting my words out lately. Some by talking out loud about mom. Some by talking to her on the long walks I take in the morning since I'm training again for the Cancer Research UK Half Marathon walk in September.

But, this facebook status turned into a long ol' blog post, so here it is.

Today I read my friend, Maria's post on "sitting in her grief" after losing Jacob. It's a beautiful post, and one worth reading if you would like. http://momentswithjacob.blogspot.com/2016/07/sit-in-grief.html?spref=fb

It reminded me of earlier today when I was up in our guest room looking for a head band that mom would wear. With this new too short for me hairdo, I need something to put my hair back with and remembered she had one to cover her cold bald head that she didn't wear very often.

Mom didn't die in our guest room, she lived in there. She always called it her bedroom. I sometimes catch myself telling Steve or Abbey to put something or get something in "Mom's room". I admit it's hard for me to go up there often. When I do go in there it's usually to quickly change linens, or put something away. I don't tend to sit and allow myself to feel the heaviness of her absence.

On the 4th of July, Angie, Addie and I sat in there and talked about her and lined up all her marbles. It was nice but, no tears were shed. It was just the 3 of us missing her. Remembering being with her last 4th of July. And that was one of the longest times I've spent up there in a long while.

Today, when I went up to find this headband, I opened her closet. This closet has her things in it. Her crafting and quilting and books. Things I haven't been ready to go through yet. I quickly found the headband and I sat down on the bed. The last time it was touched it was by her. The tears came quickly and I was able to just sit in my grief.

I started pulling her things out of the closet. The book about her she didn't want to fill out with us, except for the things about her childhood. Some of the crafting things she did with the kids for the holidays. The newspaper with her obituary in it. Cards and letters given to me at her memorial that I don't even remember reading. I sat on the bed she never got to sleep in, on the beautiful cover she would have loved but never will be comforted by, and cried. I know I am not alone in missing her. But in that moment it sure felt like no one could miss her more than I do.

Max was resting in his bed room watching Batman so I turned his monitor on and stepped out to the garden. It was this time last year that the garden got out of control with weeds and dead flowers. I was certain nothing would come back this spring, but it all did. I so wanted it to be different this year, but again the weeds are all over the place. I've never minded pulling weeds. It's one of the most immediately gratifying chores. It's just I rarely have the time to do it.

As I pulled the weeds and the hiccups from crying started slowing, I thought about this idea of "sitting in grief" and thought there was a very fine line for me of feeling the feels and wallowing in sadness. I've read before that we can sometimes get stuck in the grief because it's the last thing we have to hold on to our loved one who passed away. And I want to remember so much more about her than just this immediate sadness.

I got through the flower beds and stood back at the cleaner looking beds. They still aren't perfect. I probably could be back there for hours before it looked like I wanted. But, that's all it is...a work in progress. Just like learning to live without mom.

I came back inside to check up on Max and went back upstairs to close up the room. I put the things back in the closet and looked inside one more bag. It had her shoes in it. I put the shoes in front of me and slipped them on. Still too big. I don't think I'll ever fill them.

Sitting in grief...

I haven't been here in a while. I've had other means of getting my words out lately. Some by talking out loud about mom. Some by talking to her on the long walks I take in the morning since I'm training again for the Cancer Research UK Half Marathon walk in September.

But, this facebook status turned into a long ol' blog post, so here it is.

Today I read my friend, Maria's post on "sitting in her grief" after losing Jacob. It's a beautiful post, and one worth reading if you would like. http://momentswithjacob.blogspot.com/2016/07/sit-in-grief.html?spref=fb

It reminded me of earlier today when I was up in our guest room looking for a head band that mom would wear. With this new too short for me hairdo, I need something to put my hair back with and remembered she had one to cover her cold bald head that she didn't wear very often.

Mom didn't die in our guest room, she lived in there. She always called it her bedroom. I sometimes catch myself telling Steve or Abbey to put something or get something in "Mom's room". I admit it's hard for me to go up there often. When I do go in there it's usually to quickly change linens, or put something away. I don't tend to sit and allow myself to feel the heaviness of her absence.

On the 4th of July, Angie, Addie and I sat in there and talked about her and lined up all her marbles. It was nice but, no tears were shed. It was just the 3 of us missing her. Remembering being with her last 4th of July. And that was one of the longest times I've spent up there in a long while.

Today, when I went up to find this headband, I opened her closet. This closet has her things in it. Her crafting and quilting and books. Things I haven't been ready to go through yet. I quickly found the headband and I sat down on the bed. The last time it was touched it was by her. The tears came quickly and I was able to just sit in my grief.

I started pulling her things out of the closet. The book about her she didn't want to fill out with us, except for the things about her childhood. Some of the crafting things she did with the kids for the holidays. The newspaper with her obituary in it. Cards and letters given to me at her memorial that I don't even remember reading. I sat on the bed she never got to sleep in, on the beautiful cover she would have loved but never will be comforted by, and cried. I know I am not alone in missing her. But in that moment it sure felt like no one could miss her more than I do.

Max was resting in his bed room watching Batman so I turned his monitor on and stepped out to the garden. It was this time last year that the garden got out of control with weeds and dead flowers. I was certain nothing would come back this spring, but it all did. I so wanted it to be different this year, but again the weeds are all over the place. I've never minded pulling weeds. It's one of the most immediately gratifying chores. It's just I rarely have the time to do it.

As I pulled the weeds and the hiccups from crying started slowing, I thought about this idea of "sitting in grief" and thought there was a very fine line for me of feeling the feels and wallowing in sadness. I've read before that we can sometimes get stuck in the grief because it's the last thing we have to hold on to our loved one who passed away. And I want to remember so much more about her than just this immediate sadness.

I got through the flower beds and stood back at the cleaner looking beds. They still aren't perfect. I probably could be back there for hours before it looked like I wanted. But, that's all it is...a work in progress. Just like learning to live without mom.

I came back inside to check up on Max and went back upstairs to close up the room. I put the things back in the closet and looked inside one more bag. It had her shoes in it. I put the shoes in front of me and slipped them on. Still too big. I don't think I'll ever fill them.

I had two dreams this week with mom in them.

The other day she had called me to tell me she wasn't dead.  They were wrong about the cancer and she was fine, but she couldn't see me yet.  I told her I didn't believe her and I was so angry at this joke because it meant I would have to say goodbye to her again and I never wanted to have to do that again.  I woke up angry and upset.

Last night I dreamt I found her in a waiting room at the hospital.  She was having a hard time breathing and no one was helping her.  I put her arm around me and asked a table of nurses who was taking care of her.  She