I finished a few more books that I wanted to share with everyone who may be interested in reading them:
Glimpses of Heaven
http://www.glimpsesofheavenbook.com/
This book was written by a Hospice nurse who shared her observations of 'glimpses of Heaven' when spending time with people during their final moments. Most of these people had experiences seeing angels, or loved ones in the great beyond, or even Jesus himself. They were able to share these visions before they passed, giving their family members comfort and peace in the wake of their death. Unfortunately this book did not offer much comfort or peace to me, because there is no way for me to know if my Dad experienced any of these things, as he could not communicate with us for the last few days of his life. This book does, however, introduce the conversation of Heaven and to look for these 'glimpses', which may be helpful for someone who is personally, or knows someone who is, terminally ill and preparing for the end with Hospice care.
90 Minutes in Heaven
http://www.90minutesinheaven.com/
This book was written by a pastor who was in a head-on collision with a semi-truck and pronounced dead at the scene. His body was so badly mangled that it spelled disaster for his brain and organs, and his lack of heartbeat meant there was no rush to use the jaws of life to free him from his scalped vehicle. Another pastor in the traffic that followed, felt compelled to pray for this man, and after 90 minutes in the great beyond, he began singing a hymn with the praying pastor. This books tells of his experience in Heaven during those 90 minutes, and his life after the accident. Although this book truly gives a sense of the glory of Heaven, it also reaffirms the belief that it is simply so fulfilling that you do not give a second though to the life you left behind. So much so that he often longed to go back, and no longer be a part of this world and this life after his return to Earth. This part was hard for me to read and grasp because it insinuates that my Dad might not even be thinking about the life he left behind, and that makes me sad. But this was still a very good book.
When God Winks
http://www.whengodwinks.com/
This book was all about the power of 'coincidence'. (I use this term loosely because according to this book there is no such thing as coincidence - everything happens for a reason and is all intertwined). This book describes incredible accounts from everyday people who share stories about the power of these coincidences, called Godwinks. This was an uplifting book and an easy read, and encourages you to be more mindful of the events that transpire in life and how they may be messages from God, or Godwinks directed just for you.
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Getting Over the Hurdle
This month is going to be a tough one. All within the span of 30 days will be several significant dates. First, May 7 marked six months since my Dad's passing. Part of me cannot believe that it's been six months already, but another part of me feels like it's been forever since he was last with me. I really cannot fathom how I will get through the next hundreds of months left in my lifetime, without being able to be with him.
May 21 marks his birthday. He would be 61 this year. This will be the first birthday we celebrate without him. I struggle with this date because I missed his 60th birthday party because I had to work that weekend. Knowing what I know now, I so wish I would have had someone else fill in for me so I could attend his party. This is one of my many regrets that haunt me still, even more so when I think of his impending birthday.
And of course June signifies Father's Day. I would ordinarily spend time picking out the perfect card, full of words of love and optimism. Then I'd select the perfect gift(s), like special seasoning, kitchen gadgets, and recipe books for his time in the kitchen, or sentimental pictures of our family. Even now when I'm browsing a store and I see something I know he would have loved, I contemplate buying it for him for just a second, and remember that he's no longer here to receive the gift.
Even thoughts of my upcoming wedding anniversary in June have a little cloud hanging overhead. It's a time when I would want to watch my wedding video, but now cannot bare the thought of reliving our Father/Daughter dance, or him walking me down the aisle. I also remember his voicemail he left me last year while we were spending an anniversary weekend in Savannah; "Happy Anniversary!" he half sang/half shouted in the message, in a voice so clearly identified in my memory. I saved the message for many months after because it always made me smile to hear the happiness and love in his voice. I prided myself on always having this message saved in my phone to go back and listen to, until a few days before his passing when I went back to hear it and discovered it was gone. A small breakdown ensued, simply because it was the last voicemail I had saved where his voice was happy and healthy in tone. (I had other voicemails saved more recently but all were messages wherein he described his current hospital stay and latest health issues; none as vibrant and joyous as this one message I cherished for so long). I fear a day when I might no longer remember the sound of his voice.
So many things remind me of him. Big things like his favorite sports teams, his favorite restaurants, and physical belongings of his, but also small and strange things... Like the other day I was sitting at a red light watching the crosswalk count down to prepare for the light to turn green. Suddenly I remembered being a little girl, in the car with my sister and my Dad, and we were trying to guess when the light would turn green for us. My sister and I kept guessing "...NOW!" "...NOW!", and then my Dad would say "Now!" and the light would change. We thought he was a genius! We could never get it right, but he always seemed to know when the light was about to change. Little did we know that he was watching the blinking hand of the crosswalk sign, and the light turning yellow in the intersection. This made me smile; something as mundane as a traffic light, now reminding me of my Dad.
For this reason, I decided to buy what I'm calling a Memory Journal. A large, substantial, good-quality journal where I can jot down any memories that come to mind about my Dad. Big things and little things. I want to remember everything. I want to be able to share these one day with my children, nieces and nephews, and/or grandchildren. I want to preserve the memory of my Dad, to be as multi-dimensional, as complete, as whole as possible. I think this will help to give me even more purpose in moving on in the absence of my Dad.
If you're grieving the loss of a loved one, this type of journaling may really help you to feel more connected to their memory, and that you are honoring their legacy, and I encourage you to try it.
May 21 marks his birthday. He would be 61 this year. This will be the first birthday we celebrate without him. I struggle with this date because I missed his 60th birthday party because I had to work that weekend. Knowing what I know now, I so wish I would have had someone else fill in for me so I could attend his party. This is one of my many regrets that haunt me still, even more so when I think of his impending birthday.
And of course June signifies Father's Day. I would ordinarily spend time picking out the perfect card, full of words of love and optimism. Then I'd select the perfect gift(s), like special seasoning, kitchen gadgets, and recipe books for his time in the kitchen, or sentimental pictures of our family. Even now when I'm browsing a store and I see something I know he would have loved, I contemplate buying it for him for just a second, and remember that he's no longer here to receive the gift.
Even thoughts of my upcoming wedding anniversary in June have a little cloud hanging overhead. It's a time when I would want to watch my wedding video, but now cannot bare the thought of reliving our Father/Daughter dance, or him walking me down the aisle. I also remember his voicemail he left me last year while we were spending an anniversary weekend in Savannah; "Happy Anniversary!" he half sang/half shouted in the message, in a voice so clearly identified in my memory. I saved the message for many months after because it always made me smile to hear the happiness and love in his voice. I prided myself on always having this message saved in my phone to go back and listen to, until a few days before his passing when I went back to hear it and discovered it was gone. A small breakdown ensued, simply because it was the last voicemail I had saved where his voice was happy and healthy in tone. (I had other voicemails saved more recently but all were messages wherein he described his current hospital stay and latest health issues; none as vibrant and joyous as this one message I cherished for so long). I fear a day when I might no longer remember the sound of his voice.
So many things remind me of him. Big things like his favorite sports teams, his favorite restaurants, and physical belongings of his, but also small and strange things... Like the other day I was sitting at a red light watching the crosswalk count down to prepare for the light to turn green. Suddenly I remembered being a little girl, in the car with my sister and my Dad, and we were trying to guess when the light would turn green for us. My sister and I kept guessing "...NOW!" "...NOW!", and then my Dad would say "Now!" and the light would change. We thought he was a genius! We could never get it right, but he always seemed to know when the light was about to change. Little did we know that he was watching the blinking hand of the crosswalk sign, and the light turning yellow in the intersection. This made me smile; something as mundane as a traffic light, now reminding me of my Dad.
For this reason, I decided to buy what I'm calling a Memory Journal. A large, substantial, good-quality journal where I can jot down any memories that come to mind about my Dad. Big things and little things. I want to remember everything. I want to be able to share these one day with my children, nieces and nephews, and/or grandchildren. I want to preserve the memory of my Dad, to be as multi-dimensional, as complete, as whole as possible. I think this will help to give me even more purpose in moving on in the absence of my Dad.
If you're grieving the loss of a loved one, this type of journaling may really help you to feel more connected to their memory, and that you are honoring their legacy, and I encourage you to try it.
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