Another beautiful piece from Jules. She doesn’t know this but she is the person who first sparked my interest in writing. When my dad was involved in a near fatal car accident in 2003 she wrote about the experience of watching him wheeled into surgery with the Ambu-bag breathing for him and when I read her words I was relieved and comforted. I was suddenly so aware that although I was terrified we would lose him and I felt tremendous pain, I was not alone and someone understood. -missy
406 days. 406 days since she exited this plane of existence for one free from pain and suffering and the chains of an earthbound world. Seems like 406 years and then again it seems like yesterday. I can still see her in my mind; see her laughing and saying “Jules!” about something outrageous I proposed. For a long time after she died I couldn’t remember what her laugh sounded like. I could see her in my mind, but the movie had no sound or plot or middle or beginning or end.
There was a day I thought I could not live without you. There was a day that I rushed to hit your name on my phone with every piece of news because there was no other person I wanted to share it with more. If there were tears in my eyes I wanted nothing more but to hear your voice. A cup of coffee with you was the best day ever. There was a day when I was shopping and everything reminded me of you from the lime green pants, to the thin mint girl scout cookies, and even the song on the radio.
Oh dear friend. I am sure that there was a day you looked in the mirror and never thought that you would reach the end. You thought that you would always find that one reason to get up each morning. Maybe it was work, or your children, or your marriage or maybe it just was the mere fact that you feared death too much.
Sure you had your down days. You had the days that you purely melted down. Maybe you broke down and cried in the shower letting the water wash over you and wishing it would wash you away with all the pain that you felt deep inside. Maybe you went to bed at night and took sleeping pills hoping that maybe you wouldn’t wake in the morning then when you did you weren’t sure if you were relieved or not. Maybe you came home to an empty home and picked up a dish smashing it in pieces then sinking to the floor in a mess of tears falling asleep on the floor. Maybe you cut yourself off from friends and hobbies. You secluded yourself. You never opened your blinds and never wanted to see the sun. Maybe you preferred to sleep instead of be awake. Maybe it was all to easy to pour another glass of vodka and down another pain pill to keep the hurt away.
Jules is the newest writer for Bleed With Me. She is also my Aunt and one of my most favorite people in the entire world. To read more about her CLICK HERE-m
Jennifer was my best friend for 30 years. Never did I even contemplate the idea that she might leave this plane first, never. The pain and grief I experienced during her illness and following her departure was the blackest, darkest, most horrible pain I have ever endured. I THOUGHT I was prepared for her death. Turns out I thought like Ned in the first reader. I had no idea, no clue, what real grief was. It’s a good thing most don’t before it hits them.
I decided to start facing what this journey had been like with the eulogy; I don’t know why except to say that this was the hardest thing I have ever done in whole life. To get up in front of all those people and speak from my heart and soul without dissolving into a blubbering mess of snot and tears in a fetal position seemed impossible to accomplish. But I wanted to do it. I wanted to be the one who said the last words for her. Because she would have done it for me.
Kay is a new writer for bleed with me. You can learn more about her HERE
Today I am going to talk about my guardian angels. I have four of them. Four is the number of people who I have truly loved, yet I was forced to watch them fade from this life. I’ve spent a lot of years denying my connection with those who have passed on, but I am no longer afraid of this precious gift.
The one who has been with me the longest is my paternal grandfather. We buried him just one month before my 15’th birthday. He was a man who never threw an unkind word in my direction. He was warm, and round, and steady. He always had candy with him, and he had no qualms whatsoever about crushing me mercilessly at Monopoly. Now that I am older and understand the weight that must have been on his shoulders concerning certain issues in our family, my love grows for him even more. I know he was not a perfect man, and if he were standing here right now, he would tell you the very same thing. I know he watches over all of his family, but I feel him so strongly. There has to be some significance to that, I’m sure of it! When I am really down, and I feel the warmth of a hug, yet no one is in the room with me, I know that it is him. When I am having a hysterical panic attack, it’s his voice that is still and booming all at the same time telling me that it’s going to be ok.
I live in Mississippi. The Southern part of the United States commonly referred to as “The South”. We have a saying around these parts… “Here in the South we don’t hide crazy. We parade it on the front porch and give it a sweet tea.” It’s true. We stand by that. When southern women lose control of their emotions it is called throwing a “hissy fit.”