Good Memories; Guilt, Regrets & Anger Still There

Family (minus Sara) Christmas 2018 these are our grandchildren 

In my never ending task of clear out Mark’s things. or so it seems, and the thinning out of mine, I came across the little picture album that Shawna gave me when I got home from my first hip replacement.

As I looked through it again, of course, I couldn’t help but to start crying.  There was a reason for this meltdown though, I had just realized that Mark wasn’t feeling too well that day and didn’t really want to go.  I begged him to do it for me stating that if he wanted to leave sooner than I did he could and I would have one the kids bring Bass & I home later.  He made a last, half-hearted protest and then said ok.

God must have been trying to warn me but, as no surprise, I got the message mixed up.  I had texted the members of my little family stating that I wanted for us all to get together with during the holidays to take some family pictures in case anything happened to me during surgery.  Of course, objecting to my reason for it, they agreed to meet at my son’s house.

I could never have guessed in a million years they would be last pictures taken of Mark.  He was in the hospital within the next couple of days after.

I’m so glad that I talked him into it!  We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves, leaving me a good last memory of him.

There are still a bunch of emotions that I am having to deal with day in and day out, but I’m getting there.

I thought I wouldn’t ever stop grieving after losing my BFF Penny (3 or 4 years ago) but even as close as we were, it pales in comparison to losing Mark!

I’m still missing you, Babe, daily!

Teresa Marie

When Does it Stop?


Missing you mom (1)

I was doing that one thing we all love to do when seasons change, pack up the Fall and Winter coats and clothes into the totes you just emptied of Spring and Summer clothes.  Carefully inspecting each of Sebastian’s items for the size label (usually non-existent because it was cut off before handed down from his autistic cousin or he demanded the tag be removed himself) to determine if I pack it or send it off to either the rag bag or another worthy wearer.

Nah, the second part of that is always what I intend to do but my the time I get there, I’m too worn out from unpacking, sorting and repacking the totes that I’m needing a break from the monotony but yesterday I needed a break from the angry grief just long enough to completely fall apart, sobbing like this is February and we just buried his ashes!  Why?  What set me off?  A little green tee-shirt that said “Daddy’s little helper”.

Grief really sucks!  When I start thinking I’ve moved past all its stages, something small, just a minor little thing, socks me in the gut with one uncontrollable emotion of another!!

It’s been a rough time these last five years.

We lost Mark’s dad, Al, from cancer in Nov. of 2017.

We lost my dad, Rich, when he broke his pelvis in a fall after Thanksgiving of 2018 and caught pneumonia at the age of 89.  He went home before Christmas.

Afterwards, I happened to have found sort of a poem that he had written on a piece of paper and tucked away in a book.  I presumed he wrote since there was no author noted.  My dad was much too honorable for plagiarism.  I thought I’d share it with you today.


“Do not cry for me for I am dead and I cannot hear you.

But smile and laugh of the good memories and times that we shared.

Death is not the end.  The end comes when memories are no longer.

Love is said over and over as if to convince the speaker as well as the listener.  If there is no listener why speak of love?

My life was not wasted, the waste was my lack of saying the things that I heard in my head but never put to word.”

I loved all three of these proud, strong and quiet spoken men with all my heart.  They don’t make too many of them like that any more.

God bless and keep you all,

Teresa Marie  5/18/19