Help for Healing

Bitter & Sweet, living daily with grief


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Thanks, Lisa!

I have been thinking about how negative my thoughts (and therefore my blogs) have been lately, but honestly have had a hard time coming up with anything positive. Then I got this email today and cried my eyes out. Some of you may remember a blog quite a while ago that was written by David Breth. He wrote a very moving story about taking our Frankie to a hockey game while Tim was sick. I included it in the second book (which came out last week) with his permission. I joke with him all the time because his writing got more response from the editors than mine! Anyhow, I saw his wife yesterday and she bought the new book and sent me this incredible email and gave me permission to share it with you.

“I bought your book to give to David. I knew I wanted to read it too…but WOW! It is soooo good! You are AMAZING! I knew I would have a hard time reading it, but knew I would anyhow. I just didn’t think it would be so fast and I didn’t think it would be now, just seven days till Christmas! I started it last night during my daughter’s piano lesson and only planned to read the introduction…but I could not stop. I finished 38 pages during her 30 minute lesson! I should also tell you, I was looking forward to reading a book I had just renewed at the library, since I was just getting to a very exciting part of the book. So much for my plans. As soon as I started reading yours, I was transported back to those last few months with Tim, and the months after losing him. Not only do I remember reading the blogs when you first wrote them, I remember all those “moments” in your and Frankie’s life too.

I went to bed too late last night – almost ruined the surprise by telling David I wanted to go read more of your book, but managed to keep it hidden. Today I don’t go in to work till 1 pm and I got to stay in bed and read. Ok, so now I am starting at page 38 and you guessed it. I read David’s telling of the hockey game. Mind you I have read it before, talked to him and you about it, lived through it, and even laughed at how jealous you are of the way everyone calls attention to it. But I bawled my eyes out reading it! I can just hear him telling the story in his voice with all the crazy sayings and wincing yet again at his choice of the words about Frankie “chirping”… but it was so good. Thank you for including it and giving me the perfect gift for him for Christmas!

Keep in mind just yesterday I was trashing him (and all men) at work about how they do hardly anything at Christmas to get ALL THE THINGS done that everyone expects done during the holiday season. And how hard it is to get it all done while they sleep on the couch or chair each night! But in my heart, I know my husband is one of the GOOD GUYS and he will be responsible for all the special moments on Christmas day…and still continue to surprise and delight me and the kids. Thanks for reminding me of that.

I am so proud of him for “being there” for you and Frankie and so grateful you feel and know that! It is something that is so important to him and me that you all know that we as a family love and support you! Whether it is just listening when you call to just “vent” or taking you away on that tough weekend each year to be silly and crazy for a “MOM Break.” We are so grateful to be part of your family and support network. You have taught my kids more by just being you during the pain and loss, and moving on in grief than you will ever know. You CAN DO THIS! Because you are doing this! There may be stumbling blocks, and life is crazy, but you keep going with a smile on your face- and lots of warm hugs too! I am so amazed that you continue to find ways to speak about this to many others whether one on one or in your seminars… and do it so well. When I was a Youth Minister there was a saying- you may never see the garden made of the seeds you are planting, but it will be beautiful! It made working with moody and sometimes difficult teens a little easier. And since then I have been lucky enough to see some of the “seeds” I helped plant, make those same teens into wonderful adults and parents!

You are going to help so many more than just those of us lucky enough to be in your support network. Your beautiful and honest words of how loss and grief “SUCKS” will help so many. You are truly a “GIFT” to my family and me, and I look forward to hearing how much of a “GIFT” your honesty and bluntness will help so many others! The garden you are planting with the “seeds” of wisdom in this book is going to be the most beautiful garden ever…with a hummingbird watching over it!

SO SO Proud of you! This book is even better than the first! And sorry to tell you…I still think there will be more books in you. I know how you agonize over every word, the editing process, and Baby Coop Publishing, but it is worth it! It’s WONDERFUL!”

Lisa, looks like there are at least two writers in your family. I can’t thank you enough. This second book was a struggle and I second-guessed myself all the way through it, no pun intended. I am humbled, and grateful. And my blog readers are thankful for the boost in spirit :)!


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Women and Sports

I am pretty sensitive to any hint of sexism, especially if it makes us women appear weak in any way. I know plenty of women who are athletic and knowledgeable about sports- by either playing themselves or with watching.

Me? I fall into the stereotype. I am not athletic. In fact, I am rather clumsy and accident prone at times. I try very hard to understand the basics about sports so I can interact with other people. But lots of times I just can’t wrap my mind around it.

Last night, I was at a speaking engagement out in the country. I got talking with a woman a little older than me and I ended up having one of those embarrassing laughs. When I really laugh hard, I cackle. It’s loud and goofy and it embarrasses Frankie to no end. But I just couldn’t help it.

Somehow the conversation had turned to sports and I was lamenting my ignorance. She told me she could probably top any story I had. She is an EMT by profession. She had gotten assigned to some sporting group, a football team to be exact. She saw the group of men in a circle with their heads down and ran into the field. Her husband (also an EMT) ran after her to stop her. He couldn’t figure out what she was doing.

She explained to him that obviously someone had been injured badly and she was trying to get to him as quickly as possible. He probably had to tackle her to stop her, which is pretty ironic considering it was a football game. He explained to her that it was a “HUDDLE” and what that meant exactly. I laughed my butt off when she told me. That is such a Darcy move if I ever heard of one.

Like in high school when I attempted to play basketball and shot at the wrong basket. The saving grace was that I sucked (of course) so I missed the basket.

Or the first time I went to a professional hockey game. I was living in Chicago at the time and my roommate took me to a Blackhawk’s game. Now she happened to be very athletic and sports-gifted, unlike me. We were sitting there with thousands and thousands of people and a fight broke out. At a hockey game? Really? It was my first one so I had no idea that fighting was pretty standard. So all those people were going crazy and cheering the fight on. I was mortified. I thought I was witnessing humanity at its very worst. I started crying. Yes, I actually started crying. I thought it was violent and cruel. My roommate laughed so hard at me I thought she was going to pee her pants.

See how much I’ve evolved? I can go to a Sabres game and relish the fight like everyone else. I get caught up in it like everyone else. And I’ve learned the rules. Last fight I saw, our guy got the crap kicked out of him. But at the last moment, he was on top and pulled the other guy down to the ice. Everyone went wild. So I learned that you can lose badly, but the only thing that matters is the last five seconds. Everyone forgets what happens before that.

I even went to a game recently with someone who does not like the Sabres. I endured his pot shots as the Sabres lost, like they do ever so often unfortunately. I threatened to beat him up, but he’s a prison guard so I thought better of it. I may have evolved, but I’m not stupid!

Never in a million years would I have dreamed that I would consider that growth. What has happened to my bleeding heart? But hey, I do know what a football huddle is so I guess I’m not completely hopeless :)!


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Fickle

Yes, I accept it.  I’m fickle. Emotional.  Changeable.  Whatever you want to call it.

This is Dave’s third year in hockey.  His brother takes him 90% of the time to practices so I have plenty of help.  I go to all the games.  One kid.  I’ve always been grateful that he never asked to try out for a travel team or a spring league.  It’s expensive, time-consuming, and a very long season as it is.

Til this year.  His coach asked if he wanted to try out for the “select team”.  Didn’t realize that meant travel team.  ANOTHER $350.  He was asked.  How can I say no?  My step-son tells me if he makes it, he is just too burned out to take him five times a week to the rink so I will have to step up.  How can I say no?

My dad stresses me out.  He calls and asks “Is this going to cost more money?”  I say yes, but don’t tell him how much.  He asks if we are going to have to drive a lot further and more often.  I say yes and cringe.  “How are you possibly going to do that?”  I tell dad that we just need to see if he even gets selected.  Then I will see who else gets picked.  There are two families I know that would help manage transportation if their kids get picked too.  I am irritated at my dad.  My son lost his dad.  How can I say no?  But deep down, I know he’s right.  It will stretch us in every way imaginable.

Inside, I am praying he doesn’t get in.  That way I don’t have to make the decision.  Too much money, time, stress.  But how can I say no?  He tries out Sunday and we are supposed to find out Wednesday.  He gets ready for school and tells me I need to let him know the second I find anything out.  I prepare him that even if he gets in, we have a big decision to make.  He says he understands, but how could I really tell him no?

I have to work most of the evening.  I come home, greeted by my step-son.  He informs me that Dave didn’t get picked.  He said he was taking it very well and had a friend over to play so that was helping.  Wow, prayer answered.  I don’t have to say no and feel like the bad guy.  I don’t have to say yes and stress us all out in every way.  Phew, right?

No, I cry instead.  I’m so sad for him.  Then I’m mad.  Those asses.  Obviously they don’t know a great skater when they see one.  Dave handles it much better than I do.

Fickle, I admit it.