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This blog is a wide variety of things. Most titles are prompts I have followed. |
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This journal is a wide collection of things. Some of it is just a free flow of thoughts. Some of it is from Earl's 31-Day Challenge a long time ago. The rest is from given writing prompts that I have found around the Net from various groups to which I belong. It's not often that I rant about life in general, but you will find some of that here as well. Things here are mostly prompts I have followed. Maybe you will find a prompt that inspires you. Welcome to my blog! |
| When this song came out, it hit me hard. It hits me harder as the months go by and as I lose more people. Hopefully I am over that for a good long while, but it was difficult for a bit. I lost my husband in 2018, my dad in 2016 about six months after my husband was diagnosed as being terminal. I had lost my mother and her younger brother, who was like a second Dad to me, not long before all of this. But what hit me most when it came to this song? It was losing my first love. He and I were totally wrong for each other, and we grew up and older knowing that to be the case, but we remained the best of friends. If ever one of us truly needed someone, the universe would somehow bring us back together again, heal the pain, and we would drift apart again. What is interesting, is the song Memories reminds me the most of him. The biggest impact on my life was losing my husband (and also not having my dad, my best friend, around when it all happened). But the memories that do not fade from my brain, those fun and goofy and even painful memories of Paul are the ones that stick with me. Paul. My first love and a good friend for life. I will never forget the day he text me, “When did Rod just say F it?” Rod was my husband. He had pancreatic cancer and decided, after 2.5 years and sliding pretty far downhill, that it was time to come home, one last time, with hospice. Paul’s cancer had come back despite his treatment. I went to see him in the hospital when he decided it was time for hospice. He said he wished he knew how long he had – a year, six month, a month. I knew he did not have a year, and I told him so. I doubted he had six months, and I told him that also. I could tell. I had been there just a year before. The next time I saw Paul he was at a place called the Hospice House. I knew it would be the last time I would see him on this Earth. But we kept the conversation light, when his mind would allow, and I did my best to comfort him when he was scared or confused. When the time came, I did not want to leave. But I knew it was not my place to stay. He designed his life to be lived along, and it was designed to end alone, although he knew he would never be. “Here’s to the wish you were here, but you’re not. But the drinks bring back all the memories, and the memories bring back, memories bring back you.” Memories bring back lives lost and good times that will never be forgotten. |
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