Doubt and Grief

The thought of doubt has been plaguing me for some time now and for the most part it’s been a struggle to piece it out and connect it to something specific. 

What I come to realize that my feelings of doubt come from many situations, people and experiences. But they are all connected to who I am and how I react to certain situations or people. Now I will say with age, my filter has faded and my ability to stay quiet and not speak up has diminished. On some days, I say my give a damn is busted. Perhaps it’s because of the pain and sorrow I’ve had throughout my life. Maybe its age. In fact, maybe it’s because I’ve let others dictate who I am or who I am not.

For many years, I listened to others who influenced my thoughts and feelings about certain viewpoints. It probably wasn’t until my 40’s when I grew a backbone and said, “no more”. No longer will I let others dictate my worth. I am more than this body. I am a thinking, feeling and smart, well educated woman. In my 40’s and 50’s I found myself. The world opened up and I took it all in. Succeeded in my career. Grew as a person. I knew who I was and what I wanted.

At the same time, I was deep in my grief journey after losing my daughter who was my whole world. While some well-meaning people thought that telling me it was time to move on or that she was in a better place; it in fact, did more damage than it did good. I began to doubt my response to grief. Was I overreacting? I questioned everything. 

After a couple of years under my belt, I began to rise up again and found ways to celebrate Brittany, but also honor who I was in that moment. What was my purpose during the next phase of my life. I loved my work, traveled a lot and settled into a life that I could control. That is the magic word here. I controlled my own destiny. I made my own decisions and I was great at my job. I felt needed. I felt validated. I felt important. Probably for the first time in my life.

In looking back, that seems unfortunate but the reality was I did not have an easy life before. Life was incredibly hard and at times burdensome to point that I wasn’t sure why I was here. It wasn’t until my 30’s when I became successful at my job and had Brittany that I felt I had purpose. It all came crashing down when my mom died in 1988 (the year Brittany was born) and in 2006 when Brittany died. 

A few days ago, I came across a video interview I did for my church in Indiana about a year after Brittany died. I looked at that woman (me) and said I don’t even know her now. In that moment, I grieved for her. I had lost her or a part of her and never really knew it. Until I saw that video. It hit me like a rock. She is gone. I don’t even look like her now. She was young and vibrant. Now I am grey and more seasoned. Grief has seasoned me in a way that at times I don’t even recognize who I have become. 

I have become someone who I don’t know and need to time to figure out who I am and what future I have left. What I want to do with it. What truly matters. Right now, I do not know. This is what doubt does to you. You think you got it figured out. When in reality, you’re just going along with the motions to appease others. This is what grief and doubt does to you. You walk through life in a fog and some days it’s clearer and other days, you can’t see anything. Even the obvious seems not obvious. And when that gets pointed out by others, doubt creeps back in and your left back where you started as a young person; doubting yourself, what you bring to the table and is any of it worth it.

It’s time to stand up for me and what I want. That is the only way I can get back to feeling adequate and filled with purpose. I will no longer listen to the voices of others tell me otherwise. Grief, sorrow and life can tear you down; but it is in the growing, believing and honoring who you are, will you be able to carry on and being the best version of you that you can be.

Until next time,

M

Grief Writing

For many years now I have recommended to everyone that writing, whether it be in a handwritten journal or on-line blog, can be cathartic for a grieving soul. It has always been an outlet for me to express my pain and sorrow. In the early days there was a lot of pain and sorrow. It needed an outlet. I was motivated to write because I could feel the words pour out of my broken heart and onto the page. I got some level of comfort with each word.

As a seasoned griever, I find the words don’t come as easy. I have nothing new to say. I struggle to write anything that might be helpful to anyone. And then it dawned on me. I have been avoiding my grief for a long time. I stay so busy. I work hard. I play hard. I avoid hard. I remember how difficult this journey has been and the toll it’s taken on my heart and soul over the years. Quite frankly, I’m tired of it. Problem is I can’t run away from it.

Trust me, I’ve tried and all I’ve done is push it away. It’s still there. lying deep within my soul waiting for a time to resurface. This is where I can control how and when it happens. If I wait until it chooses to resurface and it comes as a complete surprise, it can be devastatingly difficult to overcome. But if I acknowledge it and express it through writing, I choose how the grief is released. I choose.

I can’t tell you how important it is for you to walk this journey with intention. Choose to write. Choose to talk. Choose to live. Choose to honor. Choose to overcome. Choose to comfort. Choose to bless. Choose to breathe out life.

Until next time,

Mal

Dreaming of Thirty-Six and Forever Seventeen

Each year I dread this post. Each year I dread sitting down and writing how I feel about the best and worst thing that ever happened to me over a course of 18 years. And that doesn’t even take into account the loss of my mom and grandmother.

She was her mother’s daughter.

November 30th, Brittany came into this world against her will was an indicator of how stubborn she would be in her future years. A last minute caesarean section brought a girl and from all previous testing indicated I was having a boy.

This meant a lot to me as I had just lost my mom three months before and still reeling from that loss; the loss of my best friend. Between the raging hormones of childbirth and the overwhelming thoughts of being a mom, with the only knowledge of what my mom taught me; I made the best of it. A newborn that I’d tried so hard to conceive for years finally was mine. Little did I know I was in for the most devastating journey of my life.

Nothing came easy. The only thing that made any sense to me was the love that overwhelmed me every time I looked at her. I managed these early days fairly alone without much help and because of that, I’m sure we bonded even more.

She was the light of my life. As she grew through the years, she consistently demonstrated love and compassion to anyone who crossed her path. She was a friend to all. She loved unconditionally. I was so proud of the young woman she was evolving into. Then….

Fast forward to her 17th year and the constant battles with Crohn’s disease and epilepsy made the beginning of her senior year increasingly difficult. Her health declined and despite a stay at Cleveland Clinic to determine what treatment we could do to decrease her seizure activity, we were told there was nothing we could do.

Two weeks later on October 13th, a fatal seizure took her life after multiple attempts over 12 hours to save her. It took the breath out of my lungs and broke my heart into a million pieces. A piece of me died that day. And while I write about grief a lot, this was a moment in time that I did not know how to go on.

Most don’t understand what this type of loss does to a parent, especially a mother who carried this child into this life. Even after 18 years after her death, it is still devastating to me. Most wouldn’t know it as I learned to hide it well. Except at the holidays and her birthday and angel day. Which are the hardest days of them all. Mother’s Day, Thanksgiving and Christmas all bring more pain than they do joy. Most wouldn’t know it as I learned to hide it well.

I walk through this season with a heavy heart and while I don’t expect anyone to remember this far out, I do wish people would understand it is still very hard. Very hard. As I get older it feels even more devastating. When I see my friends and family’s children who would have been Brit’s age, having their own families, it stings. It’s heartbreaking and at the same time, I am so happy for them. But there is a small part of me that always will ask “why me?”.

One day I hope to know that answer. Why this task given to me to live my life in the midst of grief. What about me made me a great candidate to live out this life of loss. I don’t know now, so all I can do is write and hope people like me don’t feel so alone. This journey is one of the loneliness and it at times is exhausting.

But I stop and remember the most amazing girl, my Brittany and I am filled with love and joy because she was my shining beacon of the goodness in the world. Which feels so lost right now.

From her memory book. Reunion Heart.

I can only hope that through her life example; that I will continue to lift up, light and goodness of the world will return and we will once again lead with love and light.

Until next time,

M

Thanksgiving Hits Different This Year

Reflecting upon what Thanksgiving was like growing up as a child and young adult. Family looked different then. The entire extended family got together each Thanksgiving and we ate together, laughed together and prayed together. I was looking through photos of Thanksgiving past and it brought such mixed emotions to the surface.

Making homemade noodles for Thanksgiving.

Those memories are the ones that made us who we are as adults. I never realized how truly blessed I was to have such a great family who came together and celebrated as family each year. Then one by one they began to pass on. My great-grand father, aunts, uncles, mom, grandparents and daughter.

Cousins (me on the left)

Thanksgiving has never been the same for me.

Thanksgiving this year hits different because our home is still awaiting repairs from Milton and it just doesn’t seem the same. Being unable to decorate and put our treasured family trinkets and mementos out means more than I used to think.

Thanksgiving this year means spending time with our “framily” and celebrating our long-time friendship. Getting away and spending time with our extended family “framily” helps to reset our faith that life will get back to normal soon. And while the blessings this year are ones that are not easily seen, they are strongly felt.

Simple Blessings

I am blessed that I can still breathe

I am blessed that I can still see

I am blessed that I can still laugh

I am blessed that I can still cry

I am blessed that I am alive

This year look at your simple blessings and try to find that while your life may be totally different than what you would have wanted or asked for, it’s the simplicity of life that makes it easier to see what is truly important.

Until next time,

M

Grief Abandoned

In my last post, I wrote about the damage many felt from Hurricane Helene and Milton. Our home was seriously damaged and we are in the midst of getting the repairs started. I would be remiss if I did not mention how fortunate we are to have insurance and to have an emergency savings to help cover these costs. Many do not.

I’ve always been straight with you on this blog. I’ve never held back how I felt or what I was feeling as it relates to grief. What I’m about to write might seem a bit dark and please don’t worry about me. It is not meant to be political but rather how the world around us impacts our grief. I know hope is around the corner but today I need to write how I’m feeling right now. In this moment as I sit here facing so much uncertainty.

I often spend several days around October 13th and November 30th watching old videos, going through Brittany’s things, and writing about her. It was a way to remember her and keep her light alive in me. Her friends would send me fond memories and post them on their socials. This year was different. And the weight of that is so heavy on me in this moment. Little did I think that my grief would be delayed or even pushed aside because I wasn’t in my home during October 13th due to the hurricane.

Instead, we returned to our home to find a tree had fallen into onto our roof and through the trusses and into our kitchen. All my grief I was feeling had to take a back seat to this new grief and loss. Trying to orchestrate all the moving parts to keep everyone involved has kept me distracted from grieving the loss of my daughter. Each year October/November comes and it’s my time to write and reflect. Not this year.

This year has torn my heart wide open and I haven’t felt this unsettled since October 13th, 2006. If I had to describe how I feel today, the only way I could adequately describe it as I feel I am a voodoo doll with pins poking at me from people and events. I am hurting in places and ways that I cannot understand. I may have said to myself, “if it wasn’t for my bad luck, I’d have no luck at all” – but I know that that isn’t true – but it feels like it. That is the difference between the mind and the soul. My soul feels bruised and badly tattered. My mind is filled with moments of rage and sorrow for so much that is happening around me and to me and I have no control over. I can only protect my peace by removing myself from situations that no longer protect me. But I also know, at least for those closest to me, that love will prevail.

There is a song by Jelly Roll “I am Not Okay” and it couldn’t be more perfect to describe how I am doing right now. And it feels like the loneliest place on earth. Not being able to grieve in my own home. Not feeling comfortable in my own home. Not being comfortable living in this hateful world. All I can do is take care of myself and those closest to me who get it. Who are like me. Who have empathy. Who want the very best for everyone, not just a few select. I fear for the future. I hope I’m wrong, but from what I experienced yesterday out in public, and what I’m seeing in social media; I don’t have much hope.

November 30th would have been Brittany’s 36th birthday. She would have hated what is happening to this country and the hate that is pulsating throughout the souls of many. She was a firm believer in helping others. It was never about her and she could have and had every right to feel selfish. That was not in her soul. I’m proud of that. I raised her to be a caring human. A giver not a taker. Someone who welcomed everyone to the table. A mission we should all strive for.

I’ve always leaned on my faith during my life and especially in times of struggles and grief. But that too seems to have taken flight from me. There is a fight for my soul going on. I feel abandoned by God in this moment. People I loved and cherished have chosen selfishness, racism and hate over love, honor and truth. The very lessons I’ve learned about the God I know and love are not what I see in others who claim to believe. They have chosen hypocrisy over truth. They are the reverse of who God is. Unfortunately all we can do is watch it unfold and make sure we are prepared for the fallout.

Whatever your belief, this type of grief is real and it has consequences for everyone. Grief knows no religion, political view or belief. Grief is grief. During times of discourse and hate; grief wrecks us. It complicates our ability to see hope. Self care is of most importance now. Take care of yourselves and help others in need. We are all suffering loss of some kind. Be kind to each other. There is no room for hate otherwise we all will lose.

Until next time,

M

Grieving – Crisis Mode.

My family has been impacted by the hurricanes in Florida these past days/weeks. Milton caused significant damage to our roof and home. I’ve been absent in posting due to the clean up that is needed. I’ve posted some pictures here with a beautiful sunset the next day reminding us how fortunate we are to be alive.

October 13th was the 18th year of my daughter’s passing. The year that surpassed her life here on earth. It really hit me hard. I may have cried and wept so much that my eyes were swollen this morning. Perhaps the disruption of life these past few days did not help the deep sorrow I was feeling. I wasn’t even able to put out a post as the words just couldn’t come close to describing the emotions I was feeling.

We had to quickly pack up our most treasured valuables out of the house with us as we fled to family in central Florida. That included my daughter’s ashes; my collection of her most treasured things; my mom’s little box of memories and many photo albums. I could not bear losing them. It would have been like losing my daughter and mother all over. I am not sure, as I sit here today, that I could have survived that type of loss again.

On October 9th, we hunkered down during the night of the hurricane and listened/prayed as the wind howled as if it were about to take off the roof at the farm. But it did not. We watched our “pup cam” at our house as the tree fell on the house and watched the ceiling fall with mounds of insulation all over the kitchen, dining and living room. We could do nothing. It was shocking. By morning we were safe, but were aware that we had a long road ahead.

It took two days to get to our house to access the damage. The power had been out since the storm. It was just heartbreaking to see the damage. Rain had come through and added to the already gaping hole in our roof and ceiling. All we could do was begin to clean up as best we could. We returned the next day and the power had returned and the damage was far more severe than first seen. Multiple ceiling trusses were busted crusting damage in the attic and over the kitchen, laundry room and pantry.

The clean up began. And so did my grief. It was October 12th and I was feeling the burden of grief upon my heart. Trying to keep busy with cleaning and throwing our ruined belongings out on the street. But as we know, grief will not go unheard. It will not wait even during a hurricane. On Sunday, October 13th, it all came crashing down.

I don’t think I’ve lost it that much since the early years after her death. I did not feel safe in my own home to openly grieve. I tried hard to hold it in, but eventually it came out and I cried until my eyes were swollen and my energy spent. I’m so thankful for my partner for life. While she never knew Brittany, she has been the most compassionate person in my life post Brittany. From the beginning she has made room for Brittany in our life. This grieving mamma will always be forever grateful to her for that.

Brit’s friends who still pay tribute to her life – just demonstrates how she touched so many people. She will never be forgotten by them. They continue to post each year and it touches my heart so very much.

At the end of a very stressful and gut-wrenching day, was this beautiful sunset that reminded us all that there is beauty and love in more places than we can imagine. For anyone going through a tragic time of grief, please be with them. Sit with them. Love on them. Listen to them. They need to be heard.

The Farm

Until next time,

Demonstrate LOVE
Demonstrate COMPASSION
Refuse HATE
Be LIGHT

M

Memories

It’s October and that has historically been a month of reflection and sorrow after losing my only child Brittany 10-13-06. This October 13th will be 18 years since she passed away. She would have turned 18 the following month but she didn’t quite make it. Now she has been gone longer than she breathed life on this earth. That is profound for me.

The memories of her continue to fade much like memories of my mom faded after her death two months before Brittany was born. That is what is so difficult to deal with at this state of my grief – the loss of memories, the sound of their voices, the magic of their heart and soul and the impact on my life.

I have VHS (yes, for those who are too young to remember, these preceded DVDs) of her and other family members which I’ve been slowly moving to digital format. Today I have been watching video of her as a 2 yr old and it seems so odd to me as I don’t clearly remember these moments anymore. It’s like watching a stranger (me) in these videos. Only my voice sounds similar like it does today. It’s like looking into a looking glass in a world that existed in a past life.

I’m so grateful for these videos and will cherish them for the remainder of my days. It reminds me she lived. I was her mom and she was my daughter. And while that statement created a swell of tears in my eyes, I only have joy with a touch of sadness. I am proud to have created life and while she had a tumultuous life at times, she was the greatest achievement in my life.

I miss her with every fiber of my body.

Until next time,

M

Life Changes

I was watching the Today Show this morning and watched Hoda as she announced her departure from the Today Show in early 2025. There is something about turning 60, in my case 66, that causes you to step back and reflect all that you have achieved and coming to the understanding that it can’t get any better. That you are at the top of your game and it’s time to walk away. To focus on yourself and the hopes and dreams you’ve held so close for so many years. Giving way to focus on career and financial stability.

After losing everything when my daughter died; I sit here in this moment grateful for the ability to rebuild, to have the privilege to retire. It wasn’t easy. I went back to school to finish my bachelors and then on to obtaining my master’s degree in nursing leadership and management. All during the most difficult time in my life. Grief intruptted the journey many times. But I worked hard. Long hours. Sometimes at the expense of my social growth. I dedicated myself to the job at hand. All with the goal that I could have time to retire early enough to work on my dreams of travel and writing while still healthy.

In August, I stepped away from the best job and being a nurse to focus on myself for the first time in what may seem like my entire life. I know it wasn’t an easy decision for Hoda as it wasn’t for me either. But when you have such supportive friends and family – it made it much easier to believe that I could. Kaci has been my rock and always supported me through all of it. Now it’s my turn to support her journey.

Here’s to the future for anyone who makes this decision to focus on their own health, dreams and live the best possible life – just differently. Here’s to more travel, writing more books, volunteering and whatever comes my way. What I know for sure is I will always give it my all.

Until Next Time,

Mal

Fall Is Coming

Fall is coming and it is the time of year where my grief becomes more visible to others. While some might not understand that is grief, they will detect a quietness of my soul. I begin to internalize my sadness. It is somewhat of a protective thing I do thinking it will make me feel better – when it really does not. I also think it isn’t something someone wants to hear about. I mean it’s coming up on 18 years. Longer than she walked this earth.

That is the very reason it hits hard this year. The distance between that life and this life is growing each year. The memories harder to recall quickly. If it were not for photos and videos, I’d not recall her voice. Her laughter.

So if you are around me this Fall, and you don’t see that normal spark, it is the season – the season of grief like a veil that covers me until January. Yes, I’ll still laugh. I’ll still find joy. But there will be moments of grief that washes over me and takes my breath away. This is the life I have now and it’s ok. I understand how it works. It’s taken me a long time to get to this moment of understanding and acceptance. But I don’t have to be happy about it. I just find purpose in it.

I know many of you understand this too. You are not alone. We will see the other side of the sadness as it lifts and a new season begins.

Until next time,

Mal

Photo: taken 8/31/13 in West Jefferson, NC

Grief Moments

As many of you know who’ve followed my journey for a while now, September – December is what I call my “season of grief”. My mom died in September; my daughter died in October and then her birth month is November. Mix in the holidays, which I continue to struggle with and my season of grief ends with the start of a new year.

For the past few weeks I’ve noticed that when something comes up about an event or someone’s interview that occurred before the year of Brittany’s death, I think to myself “Brittany was still alive then”. Have you ever done that? I’m not sure why that is happening other than it’s just that season I’m in.

Validation of a loved one’s walk on this earth happens when memories spark a thought or conversation. We talk about our loved ones to keep their memories alive, not only for us, but for others. Talking about them is essential to our continued healing. I know I don’t have to tell you that memories begin to fade. It has been 36 years since my mother passed away from breast cancer. I can barely remember her now. I have memory moments, like holiday dinners; or things she’d say to me that comes back to me when a similar situation presents itself. But it pains me beyond measure that I cannot remember her voice. I have no recording of her voice. The pictures I have are beginning to fade.

That scares me as I think about Brittany. That I could forget things about her. Thankfully I have video of her voice and her laugh which brings me joy and pain at the same time. I’m so grateful for the ability to go back in time and see and hear her laugh; her singing and the just pure joy she exuded even up to the last months of her life.

I don’t talk as much about my mom as I do Brittany, but I’ll never forget the letter she wrote me telling me I could achieve anything I put my mind to. I was in my 20’s when she wrote that and every time I felt the struggle of life’s decisions or situations, I’d get that letter out and reread it. Still do today.

Grief moments will happen the rest of my life, and I will always continue to say their name. To share their life because they did live. I owe them that. I owe myself that.

Bathe in those grief moments and reflect on the joy and gratitude of having them in your life albeit for a short time.

Until next time,

Mal