|Never regret being kind|
Anniversaries of personal tragedy are the hardest days for me. The first year or the fifteenth year anniversary—time does not change the depth of grieving for the death of someone beloved.
It does not matter what day this grief hits me.
The anniversary day or any day, any year, remembering hits me.
|This is Bill when he was in high school with his horse, Sonny|
December 12, 1999 was the day my youngest brother Bill died, at age 44. It was 11:30 at night, Sunday night. His fiancée had phoned from Louisiana that afternoon at 2 PM to tell me that Bill was very ill and would be going into surgery to correct problems from a surgery done earlier that week.
Very serious. Septicemia. Doctor says….
The rest of the day was spent in pacing around the house, calling the nurses’ station, pacing some more. Until 11:30 that night.
On December 12, 2009, I sat, watching my granddaughters play. The youngest, four year-old Sunshine noticed how quiet I was and how sad my face seemed. She climbed up on my lap and asked in her little sweet voice if I was sick.
I told her about my brother and how he had “gone to heaven” ten years ago. Sunshine listened solemnly and nodded. She knew about heaven since their dog Shelby had recently gone there, too.
“Well then, Grandma. I’ll hold you 'til you feel better.” Then she settled into my arms, laid her head upon my shoulder, and soaked love into my very being.
I have never been given such a kind gift like this before, or since.
|Who is cuddling whom?|
Lucky mommy with 5 yr. old daughter!
This is a repost from 2009. It is 2020, eleven years ago. Sunshine is now 14+, taller than I am. I could sit on her lap, but instead she curls up to me. I am blessed.