This is how I stay strong.
This is how I survive.
This is where I get my peace.
This is what gives me grace.
This is how I stay strong.
This is how I survive.
This is where I get my peace.
This is what gives me grace.
Setting the Scene: A beautiful Spring day. 72 degrees with white puffy clouds in a crisp blue sky. 100 people standing together, sharing their love for their beloved friend or dearest family. Up to the casket steps the widower. Grief written in his eyes and a hushed tone in his voice, he begins to talk about the love of his life and what he’ll miss most.
The Eulogy: My beautiful wife… I will miss you more than you could ever know.
All of those many, many hours you spent in the gym every week to make sure that I could worship at your 6-pack abs are hours I’m glad you spent away from me and our family because look at the amazing results. Wow. The ripped muscles I could see pressing up against those tight dresses were so worth all the missed dinners and little league games you didn’t attend.
Every time you ate salad with no dressing, it proved to me how much you loved me. Each time you refused to eat birthday cake or passed up even a bite of french fries deepened my adoration of you.
Of course, I can’t forget those slim hips and delightfully petite tush that reminded me so much of how you looked when I first met you in Elementary school. I know that staying the same size you were when you were but a budding adolescent was challenging to say the least, but you did it so well and it made the world such a better place. You brought joy to everyone when they looked at you. They didn’t even have to know you or your mind to be thankful you were in the world.
What I’ll miss most is knowing that you loved me enough to spare yourself every bit of joy that good food, good drink and a lazy Saturday in bed could give us because you knew I needed you to be model-perfect everyday in order to keep our marriage strong and filled with passion.
In Heaven, may you find the gym of your dreams and may God give you a cup of 5 raw eggs every morning because I know how much you loved to start your day with protein. I’ll miss you, my love.
My thoughts: Of course that is an insane pile of shit! Hopefully, no one would really give a eulogy like that because when it all comes down in the end, what truly matters is what shines through. But I wanted to put it out there because I got stuck watching some commercials this week against my will and so many of them focused on: Being thin. Being built from the waist down like a 10-year-old boy. Having giant tits. A tiny waist. Bigger lips. Smaller hips. Being hairless from the neck down, but we have some great hair extensions to sell you to make the hair on your head twice as thick–all other hair is unacceptable. It was just ridiculous!
I’m soooooo sick of the pressure put on women to be “perfect.” First off, we all have a different idea of what perfect is, so let’s say bye bye to that word altogether. Secondly, who ever said that being a Victoria’s Secret model made anyone happy or secure? Men cheat on their model-hot girlfriends all the time. An expression I hate more than just about anything on earth is: “See that beautiful woman over there? Some guy is tired of fucking her.” I can’t tell you how many people I’ve heard use that expression and it makes me wanna punch something. Being beautiful is not the key to happiness, love, security or anything else. It might get you your Starbucks faster, but in the scheme of things…
The truth of it is, most of the beautiful women I’ve known in my life are also the most insecure. When everyone tells you how pretty you are, then it’s easy for your self-worth to tie only to your external beauty. Since we all grow old, how well can someone like that fare as they begin to age? If one’s only perceived value is what they see in the mirror, what happens when what they see is 50 or 60 or 70 years old? Our value should come from everything beneath the façade.
So what if you are 40 pounds or 90 pounds overweight? Who cares if you are 20 pounds underweight? The only reason I’d give a rat’s ass is that I’d be worried about your health. What matters to me is WHO you are, not what you look like. What a shallow bunch of shit. Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t mind a peek at a nice photo of Chris Hemsworth every now and again. I’m not blind. But if I met him and he was a dick? Then I’d never want to meet or see him again. It’s all about the love and joy and fun and support and strength that someone brings to others’ lives. Fuck how pretty their hair is or how nice of an ass they have. When life gets hard and you need someone to help carry you through those dark hours, do you really care if they have a 24 inch waist? Or do you care that they love you enough to endure any hardship that comes your way?
Here is an excerpt from a real eulogy a man spoke for his wife. This is the kind of love I’d hope to hear at my own funeral. Note he never once talks about missing her 6-pack abs.
I don’t know about anyone of you, but as for me, getting married to my wife was the best thing that every happened to me. She was my best friend, my lover, and my wife. She was the source of all the happiness and all the fun I had in my lifetime.
The best part of each day was waking up to find her by my side and the best part of each night was going to sleep knowing she was laying next to me and the best thing about life was knowing no matter how hard it got, how scary it was, or how poor we were, all I had to do was go home, close the door behind me, and see my wife and the sun would shine and nothing else would seem that important any longer.
I guess what they say about your home being your castle is really true because whenever I got home everything outside my door was no longer of any concern.
I will miss her terribly, but then I will see her in my mother-in-law and sister-in-laws and children and even grandchildren and I will smile knowing that a part of her is still with us.
I am saddened by my loss. She died too soon. “Why did god take her from me?” That is what I asked myself when Kathy passed last Sunday. It took this entire week before I realized that I was looking at it all backwards. That I had taken the wrong perspective to examine what had just occurred.
Try to imagine with me, if you will, that first day when the spark and fire of love was first felt by me. I went home and thanked the Lord for sending Kathy to me.
Did I ask him to give me 43 years of bliss and happiness? Would I have been so bold and brazen to have said, “Lord I demand 43 years of having a companion to share life with?”
Of course not. I was and always am timid and shy when speaking to our Lord. Do Your will, not mine. Who knew how great His love for me would have been. Who could have expected God to be so caring as to have granted to me such a wonderful life.
I would like to end this now with a simple prayer. If you would all bow your heads.
Heavenly Father, Your servant Kathy has returned to Your side in Heaven. We give You thanks for allowing her to stay with us as long as she did and we know it was time for her to leave us. Please Lord, let her know of our love for her and keep her in eternal peace. Amen
I’m pretty sure I’m gonna puke!
So here’s my little tale.
Now that the house is finally coming together, the hubby and I occasionally have some friends over. They’d just gotten in the door and were standing in the living room when they noticed my Christmas window gels still up in the window. Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s July and I still have some Christmas stuff up. I’m a maniac! 😉
Anyway, the gels are these gummy-like decals you stick to the window. They feel like a wet, smushed, slightly melted gummy bear, but they stick great and last a long time. Well, until the evil summer heat of Arizona gets at ’em.
The snowman couple on the right had held up pretty well, but the cute little penguins on the left had met a rather unfortunate, melty fate. It was actually kinda gross looking. Like the face melting scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark.
We were all standing about 10 feet away and commenting on the sorry state of my little gel friends and their accompanying snowflakes when I noticed that some of the snowflakes had turned black.
My first thought was, “Wow, that’s probably unhealthy. If the sun baked what used to be white, lavender and baby blue snowflakes into black, crusty nightmares then the fumes it put off while cooking can’t have been healthy to breathe.”
So I walked over to them to scrape them off the window and much to my horror…NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! The carnage! Death abounded! The slow, painful murder of dozens of small critters faced me in my once-loved gummy snowflakes.
Look below at your own risk!
Here it is a little closer up if ya really wanna see mass death!
Holy fuck that is nasty!
I had NO idea I was murdering flies in such a gruesome way!
And the poor little buggers were left on display and I didn’t even notice. They had a public burial. Total ewww!!
So yeah, I screamed. Then said to the hubby, “Can you please remove the hideous death trap that our sweet Christmas decorations have become?”
I don’t know what they make the gummy decals with (crack? meth? chocolate?) that would be so alluring to flies. Especially since the snowmen were of absolutely no interest to them at all. Completely bizarre.
When I went to look at the snowmen the other day (which are still there to this day…yeah, again…I know…) I noticed a leftover fly leg stuck to the window. Poor little critters. I may not like flies, but nothing deserves to be cooked at 150 degrees while stuck in goo on an Arizona window.
Well, there you have it. I’m now officially horrified. I’m a murderer, pure and simple. Off with my head! 😉
Less than 24 hours ago I was counting my blessings, including the fact that my old ass hamster was still amongst the living. Little did I know he only had 8 hours of life left.
I love you Hamster. Mommy and Daddy miss you tremendously. There will never be a fuzzy-butted little hamster anywhere near as wonderful and sweet as you.
What a title, right? I have a lot of people ask me how I’ve learned to find such peace and contentment in my life. Like everyone else, I deal with struggles, hardship, and loss. But even through all of that, I usually find a way to come to terms with it all and move forward in a positive way. That doesn’t mean I don’t wanna smash my computer with a bat when it doesn’t work right. Or that I don’t want to drive into my office and ring necks when people get on my nerves. It doesn’t mean that if anything ever happened to my husband that I wouldn’t want to crawl into a hole and die. But, for the most part, I’m able to roll with the punches and keep my chin up (wow, 2 cliches in one sentence! That’s a record!).
I think one of the reasons for that is that I’ve been dead twice. Yeppers, you read that correctly. Once when I was just a very small child and again in my early 20s. I believe with all my heart that God jump started my heart both times so that I could live a bit longer.
How these death experiences have helped me is two-fold:
Having those two understandings helps me in so many ways. I don’t worry so much about the little things anymore. I don’t try and control everything. I never try to control other people. I know that eventually, all things work out as they should. I’m okay with who I am. I know that I don’t have to the prettiest, smartest, funniest girl on earth to be happy. I’m almost 42 and I don’t worry that I don’t look like I did when I was 20. I find growing old gracefully to be a blessing and a huge stress relief.
Ultimately, I learned and live my life’s mantra because of these experiences: Wake up. Be kind. Go to bed. Repeat.
While I hope none of you have to go through the physical struggles I’ve been through, I do very much wish that all of you find peace and contentment in your lives. When you have those 2 things, everything else comes naturally.
Blessings to all of you!
PS: If any of you out there have experienced something similar, I’d love you to share that story here so we can all benefit from what you went through.