Thank YOU!

Thank YOU!

As dusk fell that Saturday evening Sherry, truly a gift from God, casually asked, "What are you going to do with your writing talent?"

"I'll just use the oldest excuse out there: I'm writing the Great American novel."

"Seriously, have you ever thought of  blogging?"

"Who-ing?" Don't you believe me? What's wrong with the great American novel? I know there's only one Toni Morrison, but..."

"Do you even know what a "blog" is?"

No.  And I''m not really interested."

"It's a way to write about many things."

Well, if I did, I'd write about grief and loss.  That's what I present at seminars and other venues on."

Sherry finished packing her tools; I helped her fill her trunk with them; then thanked her and mutual friend, Jan, for the "do-over" of my modest bungalow.  I went to bed that Saturday night, only to be awakened before dawn by a frantic call from Christian.

"What's your address, Mom? I need to come and get you.  Courtney's been taken by ambulance to the hospital!"

"WHAT?"

Christian broke speed records racing from my side of the city to another.  We were directed to a "Quiet Room" to wait for a doctor to come and tell us how Courtney was doing.  The longest wait in the world.   What felt like an eternity later, a team of four women doctors entered the room so quietly it took me a long moment to realize they had entered.  Theydidn'thavetosayaword; their faces spoke volumes.

"We're so sorry.  We did everything we could but couldn't save her life."  Then, I knew how a "death knell" sounds Soundless.  A soundless roar of denial!

"May we see her?"

"Of course, but we must warn you that she hasn't been cleaned up."

The longest walk.

I know nothing about the next six months.  Remember, I'm a Grief and Loss counselor. and had been doing gried work for close to eight years.  But!

Months later, Sherry's question woke up with me. A blog? I wonder.  Some days later, I called Sherry and croaked, "Will you show me how to write a blog?  You know I'm a "Tech-Dummy!"

Sherry did all the heavy lifting, the most salient centering on my ineptitude with all things technical.  Yet, notes from a broken heart (my contribution).blogspot.com  arose from the ash heap of grief, incalculable loss, and roiling pain.

That's the backstory.

I write this "Thank YOU,"  to every Lamenter who reads these blogs, on whatever basis, and for whatever reason, I thank YOU! Why? This particular "blog administrator (/)"  keeps detailed statistics, including "hits" and other data, which I rarely scan.  I think the last time before this most recent one might've been in December 2019.

Imagine my astonishment a couple of weeks ago! "I almost dropped my teeth,"  as (Grand)Mama used to say about a huge surprise. Readers-Lamenters from all over the world have read me at least once! "Goodness gracious, great balls of fire," Little Richard would've trilled!  And aptly so!  

I thank YOU, Lamenters, for helping me heal.  I'm not there yet and don't when or if I'll ever be.  And no, it's not "misery loves company."  It's more, 

Another day has gone

I'm still all alone

How could this be

You're not here with me

You never said goodbye

Someone tell me why

Did you have to go

And leave my world so cold." 

Shortly after beginning the blogs, I'd invite readers to respond however they wanted.  I read all comments.  Still do. I'd like to invite you to again comment or ask questions about any blog, whatever.  I'd love to hear from YOU!

"When you walk through a storm hold your head up highånd don't be afraid of the dark,

At the end of a storm is a golden sky

And the sweet silver song of a lark.

Walk on through the wind,

Walk on through the rain,

Tho' your dreams be tossed and blown,

Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart

And you'll never walk alone,

You'll never walk alone.

Blessings.