The Sound of Silence

This isn’t a copy and paste, share with all your friends post. This is my life, my words. Fibromyalgia is that baffling disease that no one knows you have unless you tell them; even then they don’t fully grasp the magnitude of it. According to the “experts” fibromyalgia isn’t an autoimmune disease yet but will one day be classified as such. In plain English..fibro is unimaginable, intense to excruciating pain all over your body. In actuality your brain is sending out false signals to your body that it hurts when it really doesn’t. The stupidest explanation for the stupidest disease ever in my opinion! Yes, I know most stupid is correct.

I don’t complain about it very often because I know how very blessed I am to not have something worse. However..I’m human and I get very tired of being grateful my pain isn’t worse. You see someone with a broken bone and you feel so bad for them, you pray they heal and offer help. No one looks at a person with fibro and offers help, prayer, condolences..anything! Why? Because they can’t see it! I put on my clothes just like they do. I wear makeup and jewelry like they do. I smile and have normal conversations just like they do. They rarely know I’m screaming from the inside out because of the pain.

There is no cure for this insanely furious little beast. There are medications that “take the edge off” but that’s all. That’s another problem in and of itself. Heaven forbid anyone finds out you need medication to sleep, the occasional pain pill and yes..on extremely rare occasions there’s the oh so evil pill that calms your nerves and quite literally keeps you from doing physical harm to yourself or someone else! Although I no longer take the ‘calm down’ drug, I have been criticised and condemned for taking these medications, cried myself to sleep wondering if I’m being judged for not being able to do everything I wish I could and everything people think I should. And..because of all the drug abuse people like me who need it have to get a lesser dosage of a new pill that is in no way as good as the old, name brand med. Not really anyone’s business but if you’re thinking I have “the good stuff” you would be sadly mistaken. Narcotics are so highly regulated these days that fibro sufferers are still suffering. I should move to Suffern and suffer in silence. My sense of humor is still intact in case you were wondering.

Per Google:
Fibromyalgia a ‘Real Disease,’ Study Shows. … Fibromyalgia is a chronic disorder characterized by widespread muscle pain and fatigue. It affects 2%-4% of people, mostly women. It has been called the “invisible syndrome” because it can’t be diagnosed based on a lab test or X-ray.

Please, please, please when you read this don’t send me messages of, “I’m so sorry”! I didn’t pour my heart out for sympathy. I adore cold weather but it’s absolute Hell on fibro! Summer brings days of low barometric pressure which is an even worse Hell for fibro patients. I’m having a really bad flare up today so I’m whiney and writing is cathartic.

This blog post is for all those who suffer in silence and most often alone. We don’t want your pity! We want a society that’s educated to all autoimmune diseases! We want you to understand that having this type of disease makes every single thing in our lives more difficult. So..be more understanding, sympathetic and caring to all the silent sufferers out there no matter what their plight.

dona elise

No Greater Love

To me there is no greater love than the love of and for a child. It is pure, it is innocent, it is whole and extremely precious. You’ll never experience anything quite as honest and are extremely blessed if you go through this experience at least once in your lifetime.

Today was one of those days where you don’t know whether to pull your hair out or laugh like a hyena. I chose the latter. Tongue in cheek of course but it was a crappy day at Mimsy’s house. I had infant Tayleigh and four year old Preston who was with me because he had a cold and couldn’t go to daycare.

Not long into the day we had a diaper blow out that put my comforter and sheets in the wash, Skully..Jake and The Neverland Pirates..fell and is lost somewhere in the bedroom or he’s with the linens in the bleach water. I got the swiffer because Preston said he saw Skully under the bed. He wanted to do it himself so I let him until he said somebody longer needed to do it. Soooo..I, as the only longer person in the house, lay on my stomach, on the ceramic floor and see no Skully; however, Preston decides to jump on my back and I’ve decided at least one of my ribs is cracked. Tayleigh starts to cry because she’s just a baby and that’s what they do periodically OR my yelp as my ribs collapsed startled her. Preston will tell you she cried for two hours but it was more like a minute because I picked her up and rocked her back to sleep. Preston wanted to love on her but he has that cold and even though I doubt he’s contagious I had to tell him no. He said I was mean and he’s NEVER said that to me so I think jealousy was flaring up.

Preston was tired of being cooped up but we couldn’t go outside..that pesky cold..so he got a little rambunctious. I’ve had a sleepover with the 4, 5, 6 and 7 year old itty bitties and managed to get through it with less stress!

It was an absolute hysterical day!!! After Jennifer picked up Tayleigh I found a couple of plastic slinkies for Preston and me to play with. His was silver, mine pink. We were making them wiggle in the air and mine got stuck in his..everybody knows this scene. Well..as I said Preston has been cooped up and was very tired at this point so he looks at the tangled mess and says, “Mimsy, you have ruined my life!” Oh the problems of a 4 year old.

I turned the TV off and we had a talk ending with a huge hug, the untangling of the slinkies and my reputation as the best Mimsy restored!

No greater love for me than these blessings I call my itty bitties…

Sophia and the “Stupid Tumor”

I have a new obsession. It is in no way a pleasant one. Here I am though; early in the morning, delving into the lives of cancer stricken children. Children who have a tumor in the stem of their brain that is impossible to operate on with the hope of saving their lives. Diffuse Intrinsic Pontine Glioma aka DIPG. In my research I’ve learned that Astronaut Neil Armstrong lost his daughter Karen to DIPG in 1962. Neil Armstrong! Can you imagine how helpless he felt. This man was the first person to walk on the moon but he couldn’t save his own child from the evil that is DIPG. Until February of this year I had never even heard of this greedy monster that takes our children leaving them unable to move, eat, communicate..trapped inside their own bodies. Most of the children I’ve come to know led very active lives before being diagnosed. Mere months later they were unable to do the things normal to them because their tiny bodies were carrying an extra thirty, forty pounds due to the steroids necessary to keep the tumor at bay while hopefully some doctor could come up with a plan to eradicate the cancer rapidly trying to steal their young lives.

The child who made me aware of this “stupid tumor” is Sophia Myers. A beautiful seven year old little girl who was eagerly awaiting the second grade and all that comes with that. Sophia danced, played soccer, sold girl scout cookies, took joy in making her family and friends laugh with the corny jokes only a child can get away with telling. She even became a Ninja for her Mommy to control the air conditioner over Daddy’s colder settings. Sophia and her parents are the originators of the term “stupid tumor” not I.

Sophia’s parents have one child. That child has been their world for over seven years and neither she nor they deserve the horror that has become their existence since February 2017. Josh and Angel Myers have jobs that help the public. At the time of Sophia’s diagnosis Angel was working diligently to bring to justice a man who had severely abused a child almost to the point of death. A task I have no doubt she would have accomplished. Josh works for Homeland Security. They now need someone to be an advocate for their child. We need to flood our government with the demand of more than 4% research funds for childhood cancer. FOUR PERCENT!!!! Is that all our babies are worth? Four percent??? DIPG only gets a percentage of these funds so you can see the disparity. Sophia and every child deserves 100% of our time and resources to wipe out childhood cancer forever so no other family has to live day by day, minute by minute, second by second holding on to what’s left of their precious child.

I committed to a post every day in September to bring awareness to at least seven people. Seven people for every year of Sophia’s life. PLEASE be one of those seven and make Sophia your child and give what they so desperately need which is peace. For myself..I still pray for a miracle. I want Sophia to be the one. The one who shows the world that her “stupid tumor” will not win.

Here I am, Alone Again..Hello Loneliness

Words have always been important to me. I love words with meaning, purpose, clarity, compassion, and those that make me feel soul shattering, heart breaking love. Sad thing is though, I also have to see and embrace the words that hurt or sadden me to my very core. You can’t have one without the other or that just wouldn’t be life.

Written words are easy. You can open a book, read and feel whatever that author wants you to feel. I love to write in my old leather journals. The secrets they hold are private; for my eyes only but it’s cathartic so I continue. Pen to paper is more satisfying than a tablet any day of the week for me. I even write notes and letters to family and friends. The problem with written words is they aren’t audible. It’s the audible words, the ones that come from a child, a parent, a friend or family member that are the most important. They are the words that keep our hearts and souls alive. Most people know the theory that if a baby is never touched it will die. I think speaking to a person is just as important. The problem is we barely speak anymore due to technology.

Happy Birthday, Happy Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, hi Mom/Dad I love and miss you. Those words are more often texted in today’s techno world. I love receiving cards but there’s nothing as special as that phone call from one of your children or grandchildren. Words are their very best when spoken in person. You can see the reaction and react upon it. Person to person, eye to eye, within reach of a hug, kiss or pat on the back. Words are a lifeline.

I love words that bring a smile to someone’s face. I love words that make a child know they’re loved. I love words that build confidence in someone who has none. Words I love the most come from my family. There’s nothing like a child telling you you’re beautiful and special. After all..adults need words too. We need to feel special just like everyone else. When all you hear is I need or I want it’s lovely to hear someone just stop and ask, “What do you want? What can I do to make your day better.

Appreciated people will go above and beyond so if you have someone who needs appreciating..do it. It’ll come back to you tenfold. I can promise you that!
Call someone who you know would love to hear from you and let them know they are appreciated for everything they have done and are doing. dona elise

“You never know the hearts you silently break with the words you never say.” Bryant McGill

Tomorrow Never Came

As a child you often find humor in things most adults fear. Seeing a bowl of shelled peas fall from your grandmother’s lap onto your mother’s just mopped floor, hearing your uncle yelp in pain as your little brother clamps down on his arm with freshly cut teeth..and then there are hurricanes which I found fascinating as a child. 

Forty-seven years ago was devastating for everyone on the Mississippi Gulf Coast and it was all due to a wicked lady named Camille. Actually she was no lady. She was a catastrophic, category five hurricane with winds up to one hundred seventy-five miles per hour and wind gusts were even higher. According to the daily news twenty-two were killed and 200,000.00 were left homeless. My gymnastics teacher, Jackie Hines,  found either one or both of her parents in the ravaged oak trees. My memory isn’t too clear on that.

My mother was a recent widow with four children under twelve. I was the twelve year old. She..only thirty-three. Now that I’m an adult with children and grandchildren I can understand the abject terror she must have experienced during that time but back then I was a child, she was my Mama and to me she was old. In reality she was so incredibly young with no family here on the Coast to turn to for help. She did have Sam Owen. He was well known on the Coast, a surrogate uncle to my mother and Santa to us during Mardi Gras bringing several of those old timey paper grocery bags full of treasures. To this day MGCCC still presents the Sam Owen Award to an alumnus who has shown outstanding service to their community during the school year. My Daddy received it in the sixties.

August seventeenth started off like every other Sunday in our home. We were getting ready for church..probably fighting with each other for any number of reasons. As I’ve said I was twelve, my sisters we’re seven and eight, my little brother five. The phone rang a lot that morning. I was in and out of the kitchen where one of our two landlines was located so I really don’t remember many of the conversations. I do remember Mr. Sam calling because he called several times. He wanted us to come to his home on the beach. There were many rumors about his “hurricane proof basement” and something about walls lined with silver dollars. Those rumors came out after the storm was over.  All I know is that he thought his home would be a safe haven for his family and friends so that’s why he encouraged my mother to stay there. According to her his words were, “Put the babies in the car and get down here.” Mama told him we were getting dressed for church and would be fine. That was the first call. I truly don’t remember how many times he called after that but the last time he said he was sending someone to pick us up. Mama told him she was taking us and going to the elementary school I attended and she’d call to let him know we had gotten there. She sat us all down, explained what was going on, told us to go change our clothes and get one important item to take with us. We all got ready to leave and my mother asked me what the pile of clothes and shoes were doing by the door. I told her they were my “important item” and I couldn’t leave without them. I was into my clothes at an early age and she humored me. We had a Catalina station wagon and my “item” took up the entire back seat! She called Mr. Sam from the office and said, “We’re here and I’ll call you tomorrow.” She had no idea tomorrow would never come for that sweet man and everyone in his home.

We went to a room, leaving my clothes and shoes in the wagon, and put down our blankets, pillows and whatever else you need for four kids. I don’t know how long we were there but one of the families opened up a pot of cabbage and my mother started getting sick so we went to another room. As the storm intensified a huge oak fell through the window of our former room in the exact same spot we had occupied. First miracle. As a big twelve year old I was allowed to roam the halls with some of my friends who were also there. We were taking turns helping sweep water from the floor when the door opened. I was standing right next to it and was blown a couple of feet off the floor against the outside wall. My friend’s father pulled me down. I was thrilled by the whole experience! Second miracle.

We made it through the night with

my mother never sleeping. I don’t remember what time we left the next day or if Mama tried to call anyone. Looking outside I was finally terrified. Trees were down, wires were everywhere, the houses near the school were gone, cars were piled up and there was a dead cat in the road. I can only imagine what my mother was thinking. I don’t remember the trip home just getting to the street we lived on. Homes were wrecked and again trees and lines were down. We got to our drive and as God as my witness we hadn’t even lost a shingle! Every tree was still there too! It truly looked like the storm had very carefully skirted our property. At that time my cousin Carol Ann and her husband were our legal guardians. Carol Ann is my first cousin but only five or six years younger than my mother hence the guardianship. She’s a prayer warrior and told us later they had prayed without cease for our safety because she couldn’t imagine becoming an instant parent to four children. She was only half kidding I’m sure.

The rest of those weeks is a blur but I do remember how devastated Mama was when she found out about Mr. Sam. Years later I found out the water had gone to the roof of his huge two story home right off the Gulf.

Tomorrow never came for many people that night and I’m forever grateful we weren’t among them.

Grand Pas de Deux with the angels…

I know tears flow the same with your chin up but I’ve never mastered that particular art. When I cry you can see my soul and all the devils responsible for the pain. I love with my whole heart and hurt with the same.

Letting go of a loved one you cherished deeply is one of the hardest things you’ll ever go through. Letting go when that person was taken from your life tragically and at a young age is unbearable.

In that first moment upon hearing of the loss you literally can’t breath. Once you catch your breath you can’t stop the tears. Once the tears have all been shed you can’t stop the memories. We’re told to hold on to our memories. Memories are what get us through to the other side where everyone claims it will be safe to go on without your loved one. You’re never whole again because that cherished soul had a piece of your heart and you can’t just replace a piece of your heart.

As much as my heart hurts I can’t even fathom the pain her parents and siblings feel. Because of the circumstances they’ll never stand in front of Kimmy’s offender with words and emotions of hate saved only for his ears. He took away their satisfaction at seeing proper justice done. He will never hear the sound of cell gates shutting him off from the rest of the world but the day he took THEIR world and HIS own life he most definitely heard the gates of Hell close around his.

There are no words, no healing hands, no magic potions to lift you from that dark place. Time..only time and faith that we ourselves have to live again will get us through the darkness and back into the light. The sunlight she so adored will be our healer if we hold out our arms and embrace it.

For now I will see her dancing in the waves, hear her voice in the wind and remember the dimpled smile that could melt your heart. Rest in peace little cousin..rest in peace.

Somebody Loves You

It’s 2:00 and I can’t sleep because I don’t want to dream. Last July my Uncle Bob left this world for a better place but I’m selfish and want him here with us today on his birthday. I don’t like dreaming of loved ones passed because the dreams are beautiful; however, the pain waiting upon waking is anything but beautiful.

My Daddy passed away when he was only 29..at that time Uncle Bob was 25 with a baby not even a year old but he was there for us. To my knowledge my Aunt Lynn never complained. My Mama would always tell us that Uncle Bob wouldn’t be there without Aunt Lynn’s blessing and we should be grateful for her also.

He came to Gulfport and picked up three little girls after the devastation of Hurricane Camille. We drove back to Georgia in on and off rain. He knew the little girls in particular were afraid of the storms because of our recent hurricane so when he saw the rain coming he told us to stare at it and he would count down the minutes it would take before we hit it. He counted backwards and as soon as he said “one” we entered a sheet of rain and all laughed. He was great with little children.

When she was little my cousin Michelle was given the name “little Dona” and I was so proud. Except for the resemblance; now that we’re older , I am no where near the precious soul she is. She is my hero and she knows why.

My cousin Kevin was chosen to be a Sanders and we were graced with a talented musician. He was humble though and wouldn’t often play for us. My favorite memory is of him playing the piano with our Mamaw out at the farm.

My Aunt Lynn kept them all together in one place and saw to it they turned out to be amazing people. She’s now been “Nana” for a few years and she does something special for each of her four grandchildren too. From babysitting to making special food for a g-tube she’s done it all.

I know this post is long but it could have been much longer because you can’t describe such a beautiful soul in so few paragraphs but I tried.

Eternally in my heart and soul, your niece. I will love and miss you forever…

Should I stay or should I Go?

Seven years ago today was not one I care to remember; unfortunately, it’s one that will forever be etched in my mind.

My husband, brother, son and nephew had been in NOLA for the weekend and Butch had not heeded my warnings regarding hurricane Katrina. I have a tendency to exaggerate at times so he couldn’t know. (no remarks from the peanut gallery) It took them over twelve hours to get back to Gulfport because they had to go all the way up North and come back down to the Coast because interstate 10 was quite literally under water.

The day before they returned I had to deal with Ashleigh leaving to work at Gulf Coast Medical Center which was located right off the Gulf. I was terrified because I had been through a major hurricane…she hadn’t. To her it was a huge adventure even though she took her job serious. She left three year old Hadyn with me and off she went. YES…I did try to stop her!

Our boat was in it’s slip at the Gulfport Harbor and I had no idea how to get it out. I can’t even haul it on a straight road much less a slippery dock so left to me the thing would have been reduced to matchsticks! Dona versus the hurricane. Bye bye boat!

Having Hadyn kept me from showing the turmoil I felt but I was worried sick. I don’t remember what time of day it was but someone knocked on the door and to my relief it was Terry McBride. He saw how shaken I was and assured me he would get Butch home and bring the almost doomed Bout Tyme to our house.

I didn’t hear the conversation but I was told Mac advised Butch to get his ass home because Jim “effing” Cantore was standing on OUR beach!!! This joke that “where Cantore was that’s where the storm would hit” was between them long before anyone else was saying it. Whatever…it worked!!!

When Butch walked through the door I started to cry…of course…I’m a major cry baby. I was half crazed by that time so I looked at him and told him he needed to keep Hadyn pacified long enough for me to take a nap. I went to the bedroom and more or less told God that he could not, would not let my child die in a hurricane. Christopher and Wil-Taylor were both safe with us during the storm. Ashleigh would be in the hospital, helping others so she needed to be protected as only he could protect her. Some time that night Butch put Hadyn in the bed with me and I slept through everything. I admit to having medication that night. If I drank alcohol I probably would have done that too.

The next day I awoke to mass destruction, mass confusion and mass anxiety. One side of our house was ripped off and flung to the front yard but all I cared about was finding out if Ashleigh had survived. I was so nervous I allowed Wil-Taylor to drive to Biloxi and he only had a permit…no license. It…took… forever… The closer we got, the more afraid I got. We passed the cemetery and there was one large motor boat and two huge sailboats sitting on top of the graves. We went over the bridge and Back Bay was full of wrecked boats; some of which were tangled together like tiny toys. We finally made it to Biloxi and the ancient oaks still standing were skeletal. It was the most devasting scene you could imagine! We were later told that bodies were found in those same trees from all the nearby cemeteries. Thank God we saw none of those if it was indeed true. I can’t imagine Hadyn seeing something like that and not having nightmares the rest of her life.

We made it to the hospital and before we could get out of the car Ashleigh and a few others walked through the door. I swear I was laughing and crying at the same time! My baby had survived a hurricane, flood waters that chased everyone to the second floor of the hospital and Lord only knows what else. I felt such gratitude to be alive!!! Little did I know the nightmare I thought was over..was in fact just beginning.

I was working for an attorney in Gulfport at the time and our office was pretty messed up. My boss and his family were out of town and unable to get back down to the Coast. None of the other girls came back to work for two weeks and the office needed to be cleaned and opened as soon as possible. Clients came and went during that time and they all looked like zombies. Everyone was in shock. That look became known as the Katrina Stare.

I went down to the Law Office with my daughter and three year old Hadyn. We boarded up windows, cleaned floors, cleaned rotted food from the refrigerator and thought about bagging up several beach rats from the parking lot. OK..y’all know that’s a lie. Those nasty creatures could sit there and rot! After work we’d go sit in line for food that was handed out by the military so you saw machine guns in case violence broke out. Later we went to the gas stations that were opened and there we may have to wait four or five hours for enough gas to get by on. After we received all our supplies we went in search of people who couldn’t get out for food. Hadyn and I delivered to the elderly and shut ins. Ashleigh was doing the same until the day she told me she had gone to a crack house. I almost fainted! Here we were already facing riots for food, gas and water and she goes right to the people known for violence. She knew I was about to blast her so she said, “Mom, they have hungry babies to feed. I had to do it.” Well, there you go.

I couldn’t think about the fact that one whole side of my beautiful home had been ripped off and was laying in watery grass. I couldn’t think about the employees my husband moved into our home or the pitbull he allowed our son Christopher to keep upstairs on my beige berber carpet. I couldn’t think about those things because I felt responsible for finding out if my boss and his family still had a house to come home too. Frankly the other things just didn’t matter. We were all in survival mode.

Three or four days post Katrina Ashleigh and I drove to just North of the railroad tracks in Long Beach. Just South of the tracks is the area we needed to see. There were maybe five armed guards and miles of razor wire keeping people away. We looked and really couldn’t see anything so I went up to one of the National Guardsmen who changed his rifle position immediately giving me heart palpitations! I told him we were trying to find out if the home of my boss and his family was damaged. He apologized and said nothing was there.  Almost total devastation. My heart dropped.

My phone wasn’t working at all but my daughter was able to text. My boss couldn’t use his phone either but his son could text. My daughter sends out a text that the family will never live in their house again because it’s gone. That is exactly what we were told but I would have put it so much more delicately. My child..tell it like it is.

The clients that came in the office at that time were desperate to say the least. They were being sued to pay their house notes, however they no longer had a home and they no longer had a job to pay on the house they didn’t have because most if the businesses had been destroyed. The last straw to my sanity was broken when a couple needing money to bury their child showed up. These folks had filed a Chapter 7 Bankruptcy and had no money, no family to borrow from and no bank was going to make a loan for the amount they needed while in an active Chapter 7. Their last words before going home were, “Please Miss Dona, we need you.” All I wanted to do was go home and cry. I left the office very late that night and driving home I don’t know if I had a stroke, blacked out had a heart attack or what but within seconds I found the front of my X-Terra smashed into a delivery truck. I looked around and the cars beside and behind me just sat there. No one ever got out of the delivery truck. I glanced around and not one soul was looking at me! The Katrina Stare.

I got to work the next day having spent the night trying to find a solution for the funeral funds. I thought of all the wealthy people I know but these were strange days so I called Hancock Bank. They knew me well and my brother-in-law worked there so they knew him well. I don’t know how it got done but it got done and that poor baby had a funeral.

Right now Isaac is churning around out there. He’s no Katrina but it bothers me it’s just sitting there, getting more organized which means storm growth and power.

Should I stay? Our business gives me no choice but would I go? No way…my babies are all here…

 

If ya like em painted up, powdered up, then ya oughta be glad…right?

I think it was Sceeter Davis or Tammy Wynette who sang about changing for her man. Apparently she wasn’t fancy enough to suit his taste. I think it went something like, “if ya like um…painted up, powdered up, then ya oughta be glad, cause your…good girl’s gonna go bad”. My Aunt Jan had this record; one of the old vinyls, and I learned the song because she played it over and over and over. The record…not necessarily the song.

I’ve been thinking about change this week. The makeover kind! I decided to paint an antique cherry vanity because it just isn’t my style anymore and the reaction I got was ninety percent negative. “You cannot ruin that beautiful piece of furniture”, “Turquoise!  Now I know you’re nuts!”…”isn’t that a family piece”… I used paint, not a blow torch! ***huge grin***

This got me thinking about the difference between altering a body part versus altering a piece of furniture.  For instance, when I decided to have a breast reduction a few years ago the reaction was one hundred percent positive.  No one says things like, “but you can’t do that…you have your grandmother’s breasts”. That was the point! My Daddy’s mother was always beautiful to me and I loved having her tiny legs, feet and hands but that chest; not so much.

Some people alter their bodies for shock value and in all honesty I would alter a few more things if I could. “Dear Lord not your Daddy’s nose”.  Yes…this nose!  Since it isn’t in my budget to alter anything other than all this furniture we’re drowning in…if for no other reason than the shock value; which has been quite comical, stay tuned for more turquoise, coral and that funky green that only I seem to adore.

In my heart…

“Wherever you go, take me with you. I’ll be there in your dreams, keep me in your heart”. These were all things Susan Sarandon said in the movie Stepmom…

If you’ve seen the movie you know Susan Sarandon’s character finds out her cancer has returned and she has to tell her young children she’s dying.

“Wherever you go, take me with you”. Although I’d prefer the alternative, there hasn’t been one special occasion in my life; since age nine, that I haven’t done this with my Daddy. He’s seen me through the birth of three babies and now their babies. The hardest part is not being able to see his face or hear what he thinks on these occasions. Ashleigh, Christopher and Wil-Taylor each have a special piece of him that made him who he was. For that… I’m grateful.

“I’ll be there in your dreams”…I’ve never liked dreaming about anyone who’s passed away. The dream may be beautiful but reality is waiting to tear you apart all over again when you open your eyes. I’m grateful the dreams have been few throughout the years.

“Keep me in your heart”…this is the easiest of all three. At nine I had no knowledge of death; not even a pet. I also had no preparation unlike the children in the movie. I had a thirty year old, supposedly healthy father, who dropped me off at school and never came home. I had just made a profession of faith in front of my parents and our church on Sunday and the next week “God needed an angel”. That’s what all the adults kept telling me and I hate that saying to this day! That nine year old little girl hated God in her heart for at least a year. No one knew…you didn’t talk about dark things unless it was in the dark. When you’ve gone through a traumatic experience all you want to do is sleep; hopefully before dark, where all the bad things are waiting to take you further down.

Being young my heart slowly opened, I was baptized; without my Daddy, and life went on. You’ll never hear me use the “angel” statement though. I know God doesn’t show favoritism but I’ll never be responsible for any child thinking they might die and go to Heaven if they’re an angel. It’s just not a concept acceptable 

to a child’s psyche and I think I’ve earned the right to an opinion.