Kim, I Still Can’t Believe That You’re Gone

 

Kim, 

Today is that horrible date that I can't forget.  The day that you were gone, nine years ago.  It feels like yesterday, yet it feels like a long time.

I had a dream the other night that you were telling me that you were thinking of moving to New Jersey.  When I was waking up (half awake), I thought, "Well, where does she live now?"  That's because part of me always feels like you must just be living somewhere else, that you can't possibly be gone.

It still hurts too much, after all these years.  I guess that's why I have trouble believing it.  It just doesn't seem right.

Snow is here already, and the photo above makes me think of when you were so happy to see the snow that time when you came home for a visit.  I wish you could visit.  No, I wish you could come back and stay.

We just miss you, always.

Love,

Chris

Kim, It's Still Hard to be Missing You

 

Kim, I thought about you just now and I couldn't finish my sleep.  Tomorrow you would've been 51.

Your son can barely remember you and said that he doesn't think about you much, which upset Mum (his grandmother) terribly, but I do understand how that happened.  

Ethan, you were young when your mom was gone, and it's not your fault.  We've tried to talk about her, but it's hard for you to hear.  It was too painful to remember her, so you sort of stopped.  Someday maybe you will be able to listen, when you can handle it.

For some of us, Kim being gone will never be something that we can fully accept.

I have no words of wisdom for anyone suffering.  We try to just remember the good times, but it doesn't seem to work like that for us.  It just hurts.  

Still Missing You, Kim

 

[I wish there were photos to accompany all of the things I'm going to talk about, but we've never taken enough photos (we didn't even take one on my recent birthday).  In the old days developing film cost too much, so we rarely took any.  Now, with digital photos, we just forget.  So dopey!]

Kim,

Today it is 8 years that you've been gone.  We had a lot of good times...

When you were little, there was skiing, blanket forts, snowball fights, ice skating, flying you like an airplane outside (me holding one arm and one leg of yours) or inside (you up on my feet), learning to play just one song on the piano (The Keane Brothers), jumping in puddles during or after the rain, you and Juli dressed up as Leia and Han from Star Wars, riding down the stairs on our hot pink stuffed gorilla named Cinnamon, roller skating in the basement, etc.

When you were a pre-teen there was us trying to play tennis (me hitting the ball repeatedly out of the court (over the high, high fence)), trying to cross country ski near the apartment (you stuck in the snow), me waking you up with the Sgt. Pepper Good Morning song and fixing you breakfast before you went to school.

In your early teens we didn't do too much because you were busy quite often with your friends, but when we went to Austria with Mum and Mark it was some of my happiest memories.  We got to roam around by ourselves in Innsbruck, sometimes speaking "British" (because no one would know how bad our fake accents were) or sometimes making up songs like "Pee-zah (pizza), pee-zah pee-zah-ree!" or getting lost and trying to find the hotel again.  

We had fun with the waiter who laughed at you picking up half of a pizza (because for some reason they didn't cut it into slices) and the same waiter trying to show us menus in different languages (took him a few tries to select the one in English, even though we were talking the whole time).  Also, there was us trying out a bit of German (from my phrase book) here and there and me getting laughed at when trying to buy a pack of gum, you asking anyone in the family to let you dip your roll in their egg yolks (because you didn't want to spend your money on breakfast), and also you singing me your main song from the musical you starred in (Cinderella or ? - "I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream.  I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a dream.") in our hotel room.  It was such a great time!

For many years, you were away at college, and sometimes all the way across the country.  When you were back here (and a doctor) I should've used every opportunity I had to see you.  I still can't help feeling bad about the times we didn't visit with you and Ethan because of being tired, or because of family drama (not between us), or when I kept you away from a couple of Christmas Eve dinners with my in-laws to avoid hurting someone else's feelings.  It was wrong, and I will always regret it.  Any times I  missed with you were more time that we could've shared.

We had such fun times with you and Ethan, though, when we did manage to get together.  Playing video games and board games, eating dinner, and just laughing.  Those were some really good times.  We miss them so much, and we miss you.

Oh, how we all wish you were here.  I'm sorry that I can't express it better, but we just love you so much, and it's really terrible that you aren't here.

Love,

Chris

Kim, Thank You for the Love You've Been Sending

 

Kim, today you would've been 50.  I wish you could be here.  We all miss you every day.

I do appreciate the hearts that you've been sending me since you left, all these years.  You've sent more of them the last few weeks, leading up to your birthday.  I do believe that that's deliberate, because you know we think of you even more at this time, and miss you even more.

There was the fried fish crumb...

...the heart in the potato chip...

...the chicken strip crumb...

...the blob of jelly...

...and the hole in my toast.

Some people would say that I'm just looking for these things, but I've loved hearts my whole life and didn't see them until you were gone.  Maybe some of them are from other people we've loved and lost, but I do believe that the ones recently (and many others) have been from you.

What do these mean?  Some would say, "You eat too many carbs and fried foods?"  Ha ha.  Nah, I just haven't happened to see things in my vegetables and my glasses of water.  I do believe that you are trying to send me signs of your love, so that I can know that you are thinking of us all and so that I can share that message of hope with Mum, and with others online who are grieving.

I know that you wish the best for all of us.  We wish you could be here to help us all (especially Mum and Ethan) through these trying times.

We will always miss you and love you, dear sister.  Please watch over us, and we will see you again someday.

Love,

Chris

Time Spent with Loved Ones Is Never Long Enough

Dear Kim,

It's six years since you left this planet.  Today, November 14th.  It sounds selfish, but I'm grateful that it wasn't a week earlier, on my birthday.  It's still hard enough that it's so close.  I know many people lose loved ones on birthdays and holidays, or near them, which must make those days even more difficult than they already are.

Look at your smiling, happy face.  We all miss it so much.  We know you would want us to smile, laugh, live, and love, yet we are still struggling.  You touched so many lives - for the better, of course.  You had so many friends, who I am sure still love you and miss you terribly, like we in your family do, too.

I regret all the time we didn't spend together, because you were living far away, or because Dean and I were too tired to spend some Sundays when you lived here, etc.  I'm sorry for not letting you come out to dinner on Christmas Eve a couple of times with Dean's family because I was too worried about offending some who would be left out.  That was wrong of me.  No matter how much time we did have together, when someone is gone, you just wish for more.

I remember a lot of good times...

When you were around five years old, you and Juli dressed as Princess Leia and Han Solo, respectively.  I don't know if it was Halloween, or just for fun, but I wish I could find that photo right now.  Also around that time, you and I jumping in puddles during a rainstorm.  The three of us building forts in the living room, and going skiing (you and I taking turns going through each other's legs on a gentle hill at Alpine Valley).  The three of us girls and Mom all dressed in the same sundress (it was longer on you because you were small (they were stretchy on top and were one-size-fits-all)).  Me flying you like an airplane on my feet, and also flying you by one arm and one leg outside, too (you were always so fearless).

When you were around twelve years old, four of us in the family going to Austria.  You and I spending some time on our own, getting lost in Innsbruck, laughing with the waiter who laughed at you picking up half of a pizza to bite it, trying to get him to figure out which menu to give us (we only knew English well enough), singing songs (about pizza, arriving at the hotel, etc.) all around the town and laughing at Mum's funny jumping jacks/scissors walking/jumping move.  Then later, in our room, you singing your song from the musical you starred in.  I saw many of Juli's plays and musicals in later years, but I couldn't make it to that one of yours because I had no car.  You played Sleeping Beauty, but it was before cell phones and the preponderance of camcorders, so we have no record of it.

When you were around thirteen years old, all of us going to Jamaica, and you begging me to go to the beach, me being too lazy for sunscreen that day and getting burned, bright red, painful legs, and Mum putting aloe on them.

And then when you were an adult and moved back here again...

Laughing at your place on Sundays when your wonderful, silly Ethan was being so funny.  I worked hard cooking things for your special diet, so we could all eat together.  I cherish those Sundays.  There were too few of them.

Our time was all too brief, once you were back home.

I wish I could feel that carefree joy again.

Love,

Chris

Happy Birthday Kim, Though We Aren't Happy, of Course

Dear Kim,

Today would've been your 48th birthday.  Almost six years have gone by since you died, and many people still miss you every day.  It's still very, very hard for a lot of us.

Some people like to say that everything happens for a reason.  Well, they will never convince me, even if they had a million years, that there is any good reason for you to be gone.  It's not right, it's not okay, and I still can't accept it.

I know that you would want all of us to be happy and to be not just surviving, but thriving.  We want to be able to do this, but many of us are still having a lot of trouble doing so.  Some of us have experienced multiple important losses, and some of us were just very close to you.  It's hard for everyone in different ways.

The good news is that your son Ethan seems to be doing better.  We try our best to help him and make things as good as possible for him.  I believe that you can see for yourself that he is coping the best that he can.

I know this isn't eloquent.  I've had a hard time lately.  I just didn't want to forget your birthday.  

We all miss you and love you.  Crying here without you.

Chris

A few years ago I tried to click this YouTube video link, but the video wouldn't play (on our computer, anyway).  It's just a few seconds long, but now it works.  I just watched it for the first time yesterday.  Click on the title below if you want to see it.

Kim Saxe speaks at the WNPA hosted Midwest Regional Lyme Conference in Madison, WI

To My Sister Kim - Five Years Have Gone By

[I know that I shouldn't post pics of other people's children (my nephew), but this is five years old, so maybe it's okay, and Kim looks so great that I just had to use it.]

Kim,

Our wonderful sister, five years have passed and I still can't even believe that you are gone.  It feels like a bad dream, the time when you were sick and leaving us and the times since, and now, without you.  It can't be true.

My heart keeps breaking, over and over.  We all miss your laugh, your smile, your positivity, the enjoyment you got out of life.  We miss your knowledge, your expertise, your help with our health problems.  

Ethan misses you.  Of course he would miss his wonderful, loving mom.  He tries so hard to escape (with video games (me, too)) and he tries to be okay, but he will never have what he once did - the security of your love, your embrace, and all of the fun you and he had together.

Mum is the most brokenhearted of us all.  She is a strong woman, but this absolutely breaks her into pieces, forever.  You were her favorite, as we all knew.  It's very hard for her to go on, but she does it to help your son and others, and to honor your memory (because she knows you would want her to be okay, as much as possible).

Many people miss you.  You had a lot of friends.  So many people loved you, and still do.

I just don't know what to say other than it still hurts so, so much that you are gone.  Some of us are forever changed, forever grieving.  We know you wouldn't want that, but we can't help it.  We try to move on and be okay, but it doesn't ever completely happen.  I don't think it ever will.

Please send us some strength, so we can be okay.

Love,

Chris

Happy Birthday Kim - Missing You Still

This is our late sister Kim, filled with joy about the snow when she came home for a visit one time.  I wish I could feel like that.

I keep feeling shocked that she is gone.  People would be surprised that you can still feel shock about losing someone, even though next month it will be 5 years that she has been gone.  Mum isn't surprised that I feel this way, because she said she feels the same way.

I sometimes let my guard down, like when getting up in the middle of the night or just turning off all sound or devices during the afternoon, and I find myself in complete shock when I realize that she is gone.  I guess it will never stop shocking me, because she was so full of life and loving life.

I wanted to write more today, but I don't have time.  I just wanted to say - Happy Birthday, Kim - we love you!

Sadly, Grief Has No Real Solution or Remedy

My late sister Kim, in December 2005, with her dog Fenny (Fenster).

I normally don't post photos of anyone's kids, but this has already been put on Facebook, so...

It's just a photo of a photo.  Kim and her son Ethan.  He's an amazing kid, and she should be here with him, but she can't be, except in spirit.

I think about my late sister Kim almost every day, and about other important people (and cats) that we've lost, too.  I don't seem to be getting any better at dealing with grief.  Seriously, I'm not trying to dwell on it.  I'm just sharing my struggles, hoping that other people who are having the same trouble will realize that they are not alone.

I do keep finding out, in these recent years, that grief doesn't go away.  It's just something that we live with.  

Life will never be the same, and we have no choice but to go on as best we can.  There is no solution or remedy for the pain.  It's just always there.

One thing I know is that we need to find ways to keep busy.  It's especially good if we can find things to do that are meaningful and have a good purpose, though I admit that many times I just want distractions, like playing video games.

Another thing to do is to turn to those you love, though if they've suffered the same loss, or other deep and profound losses of their own, they have their own pain to deal with.  Sometimes we are all in such pain from our grief or other problems that we don't seem to be able to do much to help each other.  

I always want to help my loved ones, both older and younger, with their emotional pain, but usually the only thing I can do is to be there for them.  I guess that has to be enough, when there is nothing else to do.

Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds - Two Great Women Gone in Just Two Days

 

I don't usually cry when celebrities die, but in these last few days I've cried a few times about people I don't know personally who are gone.  I think the last time I cried about a celebrity death before this was when Ginger Rogers died, many years ago.  I happened to be reading her autobiography at the time. 

 

My husband and I don't like many movies (find the comedies unfunny and many others just too boring), but the first Star Wars movie is one of our favorites.  We even had a very long discussion about various Star Wars movies and other sci-fi topics the night before Carrie Fisher died.

 

Carrie Fisher had a rough life.  I know it's hard enough just dealing with regular depression.  I certainly wouldn't want to live with bipolar disorder, as she did.  Having made the choice in recent years to get shock treatment to deal with her mental illness couldn't have been easy.  She mentioned on talk shows how it would take away her short-term memory.  She would lose about a month of recent memories, if I'm recalling correctly.  That sounds so frightening to me, but she did what she felt she had to do to feel better.

 

I admired Carrie Fisher for all that she had overcome in her life, while remaining so strong.  When I heard of her passing, I thought of both her daughter and her mother, Debbie Reynolds.  I thought of how hard it would be for them, similar to what my own mother and nephew have gone through because of losing my sister Kim, though Kim's son was much younger than Carrie's daughter.

 

 

Then one day after Carrie had passed, her mother Debbie Reynolds did, too.  Such a shock.  Again, my first thought was for Carrie's daughter (Debbie's granddaughter).  I hope that she has good, loving, and supportive people around her, because she is going to need that so very much.

 

Al Roker said today on The Today Show, "Debbie knew that her daughter needed her."  I disagree.  I know Todd Fisher said that his mother had expressed wanting to be with Carrie about 30 minutes before she died, but I think she would know that Carrie was fine, and that the people who really needed her are her son and her granddaughter. 

 

I just heard, in these last few days, that there is an upcoming HBO documentary about Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds called Bright Lights.  I will definitely want to buy it on DVD when it comes out.  I didn't know that they lived right next door to each other and were so very close, but I would really love to see that and hear all about their recent time together.  I know it will make me sad, as will seeing Carrie in any new or old Star Wars movies we watch.

 

I always, always loved Debbie Reynolds, too.  I saw most of her old movies, some of them multiple times, and she was great on Will and Grace, too, playing Grace's mother. 

 

I just hope that Debbie's son and Carrie's daughter and anyone else who loved them will all be able to comfort each other and find ways to make going forward an okay thing for all of them.  I know it will be difficult, but I wish them joy and peace.

 

 

 

What Doesn't Kill Us Makes Us Stronger? Not for Me.

The saying is "What doesn't kill us makes us stronger," yet I feel like the hard things I've been through have made me weaker.  I feel like each loss (of a person or cat) or very difficult life situation has made me less able to cope with it all.  Am I so strange or different from everyone else because I feel so beaten down by things?  I don't know.

For some people, it seems that "what doesn't kill us makes us bitter."  I've seen those people, and I do understand that, too, though I really try not to be that way, of course.

As Mum and I were saying today, we feel that we are surviving, not thriving, since the loss of my sister Kim.  We keep searching for ways to be okay, yet we are not, really.

I'm so very grateful every day for my amazing husband, wonderful mum, and others, but there are still gaping holes in my heart left by the important people we have lost.

I want to be able to offer some hope, some inspiration to people who are going through similar things and who come across this blog, but sometimes it's just really hard. 

I know that loving the people who are here is the main thing.  Also, finding things to focus on for the future is an important thing.  For me, it's the books I am writing and also trying to learn to create some art.  I guess that is all I can recommend, for now.  Love and do and be.

Wishing everyone a heart filled with peace.

Christine

Kim - We Will Miss You Every Day, Forever

 

Yesterday was the anniversary of my sister Kim's death.  It's the only death anniversary that I remember.  I forgot to blog about it yesterday because of some things that are going on with us, but that doesn't mean that I don't think about Kim every day, because I do.  I thought about that date for two weeks before it even came up.

 

I'm not making light of the situation by making a glittery Blingee.  I just like sparkly things.  Don't Mum and Kim look so beautiful and happy?  It's making me cry to see them.  I'm very grateful to still have Mum.  I love her so very much.

 

For anyone who has lost someone dear and still can't get over it, you are not alone.  As Patton Oswalt said about the loss of his wife, “I’ll never be at 100 percent again...”  That's exactly how I feel about losing Kim and about other important people who have passed.

 

Some people who knew Kim seem to not care so much that she is gone.  Maybe that is just how they cope with death, but it's strange to those of us who really feel it on a daily basis. 

 

If you are grieving, please turn to others for support.  If you can't get it from the people closest to you, turn to support groups or even message boards online.  They can help you feel like you are not so alone and are not so strange for having this lingering pain. 

 

They don't teach you this in school, how hard life gets when you start to lose so many loved ones.  It doesn't seem to get any easier.  The only thing that helps me is the love of the people who are still here.

Kim, We Will Miss You Forever

 

[I'm assuming that it's okay to use Blingees on my blog.  It is my own photo (combination of photos) and I did make the Blingee myself.  I tried to skim through Blingee.com's terms of use, but I couldn't find the answer.]

 

Tomorrow will be our late sister Kim's birthday again.  Of course, this time of year always makes me think about her more, though I do think about her every day anyway.

 

I think about Kim when I hear the Gavin DeGraw song "Not Over You." 

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vDWhfsQHq1o

 

Okay, I know that both the song and the video are about a couple's relationship, but still some of the lyrics make me think of Kim whenever I hear them:

 

Dreams

That's where I have to go
To see your beautiful face anymore
I stare at a picture of you
And listen to the radio

 

...

 

If you ask me how I'm doin'

I would say I'm doin' just fine
I would lie and say that you're not on my mind
But I go out
And I sit down
At a table set for two
And finally I'm forced to face the truth
No matter what I say
I'm, not over you

 

...

 

I know some people say that everything happens for a reason.  Good for you if you can believe that, but I never have.  No one can tell me that there's any reason for Kim to be gone, to have left a young son behind.  There is no possible good reason for her to be gone and for many bad people to still be roaming this earth causing harm to others.  There just isn't.

 

If it sounds like I haven't reached the supposed grief stage of acceptance, that's because I haven't and never will.  Like my husband has said, he doesn't accept any of the losses we've experienced, not of family members, cats, or anyone we've cared about.  That's just how we are.  It might not be the healthiest way to be, but we are okay with that.

 

I will miss my sister Kim forever and wish forever to have her back here with all of us.  She was a shining light, a wonderful soul, and the world was a better place when she was in it.

 

 

Happy Mother's Day!

 

I drew this some years ago outside our side door for my mother-in-law and my husband's aunt (also like a mother to us) so they would see it when they went outside that day.

It's funny that I thought I was drawing a cat, because those ears looks more like bunny ears!

It's really a fun thing that kids can do and call it a "present" for their mom.

Anyway, this is my mum a few years ago, doing Tae Kwon Do:

 

She's just an amazing woman.  So strong, so loving and kind and helpful to other people, so smart.  I'm grateful that she's my mom.  That's why I wanted to do another blog and show some of her retro fashions from years back.  This is it:

 

http://christinabambinasmomsretrofashions.blogspot.com/

 

I've only put up a few photos so far.  I will do more when I find the time (or when I can find the photos).  I hope she likes it.

 

This is my sister Juli at her Tae Kwon Do black belt testing a few years ago:

 

 

I love the way her hair is swinging in this photo.  Another strong woman, both physically and mentally.  She's a great mom, too.  She works hard at both her paying jobs and all of the non-paid work that a good mom does.

 

On a Mother's Day weekend like this, we tend to think of the mothers who are still here and the mothers who are gone and that we miss.

 

Our late sister Kim is one mother who we miss, and her son misses her so, so much, too.  It's not fair that she's gone, or that any good mother is gone from a child's life too soon.

 

 

Anyway, Happy Mother's Day to all of the hard-working mothers out there who don't get enough credit for all that they do.  It's a very hard job, and I'm sure that most of the mothers don't get nearly enough credit for all that they do.  People tend to take it for granted, the love and the caring and all of the work, but really you should be getting thanks every day, not just on this one day.

 

Happy Mother's Day!

 

Christine

The Holidays Can be Especially Tough for Some of Us

The holidays can be a stressful time for most of us.  People who have lost special people from their lives can find it even harder right now.

I was watching an episode of Scorpion, and part of it dealt with one character's grief.  I ended up crying and thinking way too much about my late sister Kim and other people we miss all the time.

The holidays, whether it be Christmas, Hanukkah, New Year's Eve, or any other special occasion can just make us wish so, so much for our loved ones to be here with us.  The pain can be pretty unbearable, at times.

We can do things in their memory, such as blogging, writing in a journal, or just thinking about them for a while.  Also, try to be of comfort to others who are grieving, whether they are grieving for the same people that we are or not.

The only other things I know of to do are keep busy, help those in need, think of making things good for children, and just appreciate the present moment and the people we have here.

It's easy to get stressed out by so many little things during the holidays, but the other day I was thinking about how I wish our Aunt Dee Dee was here to annoy me in little ways like she used to (chomping gum loudly or singing along to Christmas music in the back of the car when we drove around looking at Christmas decorations).  I mean, how silly to get annoyed by such ridiculous things, when later you would just wish that the person was back with you again.

So, just try to cherish the people you love, and enjoy them and all their little faults (since we all have them - I know that I have many myself).  Try to relax and breathe, stay in the moment as much as you can, and find all the little good things to enjoy during this season.

I Saw Kim Again Yesterday

 

I know that people around the world are grieving every day, just like I am.

 

For instance, for the last two days, people in Paris and around the world are grieving for those killed in Paris.  Molly Hahn, who does her lovely Buddha Doodles, posted this drawing in love and support of the citizens of Paris:

 

http://us7.campaign-archive2.com/?u=2dba5e3be9f140a126eba45c8&id=46ea3c2809&e=407b2b1b49

I could probably post the pic myself, but I don't know the rules, so you can just click it if you want to see it.

Yesterday (a few hours ago), my husband and I went out for my belated birthday dinner (health problems prevented the outing last weekend).  Our waitress was one of the several Kim look-alikes I've seen since my sister's passing three years ago.  It's always hard when that happens.

Now, it's not like any of them really look like her, if you get close enough, but often if there is a woman with short blonde hair and a profile like Kim's, I can for just a second think that I am seeing her.

Our waitress was very nice.  She didn't look at all like Kim when she talked or smiled, but when she was farther away and waiting on other tables and I saw her from the side, or when she was behind the partition arranging things on plates or something and was looking down, I felt like I was looking at Kim.

It just was so strange that on the anniversary of Kim's passing, when I was wearing my "Kim" necklace and thinking about her so much, we had to have this particular waitress.  Maybe it was another sign, maybe it was a test of my strength, maybe it was just a coincidence and means nothing, but still it's always hard to see my sister, when it's not really her.

I'm sure that many of you have experienced something similar.  It sort of takes your breath away or makes your heart skip a beat, doesn't it?

So many people really loved Kim, and her son really needs her, yet she is gone.  Life is often so unfair, and still we are supposed to carry on, be strong, live, and be happy.  I try, I really do.  I know there is a lot to be thankful for, but this loss will forever be difficult, for any of us who loved Kim.

For anyone reading this who has lost anyone very special, I hope that you can breathe, find peace, and feel more joy again.

We Love You, Kim

As I've said before, I don't remember death dates - not for people or cats or anyone else, but I do remember Kim's, because it's her and because it's a week after my birthday.

We lost our sister Kim three years ago.  I can remember it like it was yesterday, but in many ways it feels so, so long ago, because these years have been difficult - missing her.  And even three years later, I still can't totally believe that she is gone.

I love this picture of Kim because it's how I remember her most - laughing like that.  I wish I had more pictures like this.  They are probably on Facebook, but I am not.

I will be wearing this necklace from my best friend Barbara this weekend, in memory of Kim, just like I did on her birthday last month.  It helps me to feel closer to her somehow. 

I can't say it gets any easier, this grieving stuff.  It just gets...different.

Grief Advice from a Zen Buddhist Nun

 

My husband recently got me a book by the people who make Prevention magazine.  I think the title is Prevention Happiness Now because that's what the inside page says.  I think he got it at the grocery store.  It says on the front of it "Display until December 19, 2015," so as of this writing, it would probably still be available somewhere.  I tried to find it for sale online, to put up a link, but couldn't find any.

 

Anyway, it's a pretty good book overall.  I liked a lot of it.  It had one chapter in it that was about a woman who lost the love of her life 14 years ago and then became a Zen Buddhist nun.  Her name is Sister Dang Nghiem, M.D.

 

Some things she had to say in this chapter were pretty good.  She said:

 

Breathing heals; time doesn't.

 

"It's a myth to say that time can heal.  Time cannot heal.  Breathing and mindfulness can.  [Long after a traumatic event happens to you,] a sight, a sound, a smell, a taste, a touch can trigger the complete stress response as though it's happening all over again.  What saved me was the mindfulness of breathing.  Sometimes I would lie down to breathe and put my hands on my belly to slow it down and anchor my body.  Through breathing, you learn to slow the stress response, the fight-flight-or-freeze response.  If you can do that when going through a very intense experience, the next time you recall that trauma, you will do so with more peace, mindfulness, and clarity."

 

You can cultivate joy even when you're hurting.

 

"It's been 14 years since John died.  I still miss him every day, but I have learned to cultivate joy and peace in each breath, even though I feel that pain.  You have to do them both at the same time.  It's like a garden:  You have to take care of the weeds, but you also have to plant flowers.  If you only weed, you'll be exhausted and lose hope.  And if you plant enough flowers, eventually there will be less room for all the weeds."

 

You can keep the dead alive.

 

"When a person dies and you lose all your joy, then it is like you are making sure that person is as dead as possible.  But you can learn to call on the spirit of that person for help and learn to see him or her around you.  When I see a purple flower, I remember that John loved purple flowers, and I smile.  That flower, in that moment, becomes him."

 

Her words helped me a lot.  I know that I've been guilty of losing most of my joy, since my sister died and we lost other very important people.  But I also have felt that presence of the loved ones and have even asked them for help.  I remember when my husband was having his heart surgery and I was so frightened and I prayed to all of our dear departed loved ones and told them that if they see Dean coming toward them (coming toward the light) to please tell him to go back, come back and fight to stay alive, come back to me because I need him so much.  I don't think he experienced any of that during his surgery, but I had to say it to them, just in case - make him come back to me.

 

I also have felt the presence of loved ones in ways I've mentioned before - in signs, in inspiration, etc.  I guess I have to work on feeling that even more, and also cultivating more joy in general.  I have been trying, but many days it's very hard, as some of you might really, really understand if you've experienced a major loss (or several, like we have).

 

I just hope these words (from the book) help you as they are helping me right now.

 

May love and peace be with you,

Christine

I Believe in Signs of Love and Support from Departed Loved Ones

 

Happy Birthday, Kim, and thank you for the signs and the support. 

 

I know it might sound strange, but I do believe that our departed loved ones can send us signs.

 

For example, a day or so after we had to put down our very sick cat Dino, who we had for many years and loved so much, we were going to Toys R Us and saw the most bright and brilliant pink sunset (my favorite color, when it's not pale).  I felt that it was from him, telling us that he was okay.

 

Last winter, I had to do the shoveling, because my husband has had heart surgery and because we can't afford to pay anyone.  We were both worried because of my heart and my back not being strong enough, but when I stepped outside to shovel this deep snow...

 

     

 

...I saw this heart in the snow: 

 

I felt that it was a sign from all of the people we've lost through the years, telling me that they were watching over me and that I was going to be okay, and that they loved us.

 

Then, a few months ago, we were passing Kim's old apartment on the way to the health food store, which always makes me sad, but we don't try to drive around it or avoid it.  So, I was feeling terrible, saying in my head, "Kim, I miss you so much."  Then some adorable things happened while we were sitting in the parking lot, before I went in.

 

First, there was a little bunny - not a baby, but not full-grown.  He was so cute, munching on leaves from plants growing on the edge of the parking lot, by a fence.  I went inside to get him some shredded carrots from the salad bar.  I did see him again, but not while I was sprinkling the carrots around all over onto the plants (he was hiding, of course).  Both my best friend Barbara and my husband love bunnies a lot, so it meant a lot to me to see him and leave food for him.

 

Then there were two women talking in the parking lot and one of them saw the container I was holding, and said, "Oh, I thought you were smelling the purple irises that smell like grapes."  So, I went back and smelled them.  Actually, they smell like grape soda, not real grapes, but it was amazing.  I told the women that those were so incredible!  I wouldn't have even seen those women if I hadn't been feeding the bunny first.

 

Then, when I was getting out of the car to go into the health food store and Dean was driving across the street to get groceries at a regular grocery store (sounds silly, but he had to drive because he had to get bottled water, cat litters, and stuff), there was a beautiful rainbow in the sky.  Dean saw it from the car and I saw it from the parking lot, but we both would've missed it if not for the bunny, the carrots, the talking women, and the purple irises.  We both would've been inside our stores already.

 

I felt that all of these things were sent to me by Kim, to comfort me, to let me know she was okay, and that she was thinking of all of us, too.

 

A short time later, we were heading past Kim's place to go to the health food store again, and I was feeling very sad and wondering, in my head, why can't our dear, departed loved ones help us with all our pain, why can't they send us some love and support or something?  Why do Dean and I have to both keep feeling so much pain over our losses?

 

This time, in the health food store parking lot, we saw the brightest, full-across-the-sky rainbow that we had ever seen (other than in pictures).  Everyone was standing in the parking lot saying, "Wow," "Amazing," and thing like that.  Again, I felt this was a sign from the people we care about, because it was right when I needed it and asked for it, and it was so beautiful and brilliant, as if they all banded together and created it, for us to see.

 

I wish I had photos of some of these things, but I only have a flip phone and my husband's smart phone is cheap and doesn't take great photos, and I keep forgetting to bring the camera when we go out. 

 

Also, recently, about two weeks before Kim's birthday, Mum landed on an old Facebook post from Kim (so, from more than 3 years ago), and a couple of days ago I accidentally ended up on a chunk of email from Kim in my "old mail" folder (which contains tens of thousands of old emails).  Like I mentioned in a previous post, I suddenly got the urge to delete some old mail (I almost never do that, obviously - that's why it's so full), pulled down once on the scroll bar and landed on emails from Kim, even though that was so unlikely because of the small amount of them that were from her.  Also, a few messages down from the oldest one were a couple from her replying to me when I was saying "Happy Birthday Kim!" which today now is, too.

 

Now, some of you might be saying, "Well, that's just all coincidences," or something like that, but I choose to think it's messages from people, saying hello or that they care or that they love us and are watching over us. 

 

Maybe some of you reading this have had similar experiences, too.

 

 

Happy Birthday Kim - Thank You for Everything

 

Tomorrow would've been Kim's 45th birthday, but I wanted to write this now, in case I'm too busy tomorrow.

 

A lovely necklace that my best friend Barbara gave me (that I'm going to wear tomorrow) is a heart with an inner heart that flips.  One side is engraved "Kim" and the other side says "When someone you love becomes a memory, the memory becomes a treasure."

 

I wish I could say that I could just treasure the memories.  I mean, I do, but they also bring me pain.  It will probably always be that way, for some of us.

 

One thing I do feel is that I need to honor Kim's memory by trying to be okay, and by doing what I can to help her son and others.  This might sound strange, but I felt her presence early this morning when I was working on some of my work projects (more on that soon).  I felt that she was right by my side, giving me ideas and inspiration.  I've felt that before and also received what I believe are signs from her and other people we've lost (http://christinabambinasays.blogspot.com/2015/10/i-believe-in-signs-of-love-and-support.html).  I actually had a feeling of peace come over me today, and I feel it came directly from Kim.

 

Kim, it's not fair that you are gone.  We will miss you forever.  

 

This is just a song I love and a lyric that made me think of Kim today:

 

Journey - Wheel in the Sky

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MxGEVIvSFeY

 

Steve Perry had such a beautiful voice. 

 

The mornin' sun is risin' - it's kissin' the day.