<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025209052102955029</id><updated>2011-04-21T15:34:31.276-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Grieving Together</title><subtitle type='html'>Dealing with the grieving process at a any age is very hard.  Sometimes it's hard to talk to others about what you are going through when they haven't experienced that same kind of loss.   This is a place where you don't have to explain, because we all know what you are facing.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grievingtogether.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9025209052102955029/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grievingtogether.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Chelsey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16513258623461387787</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025209052102955029.post-4501958300800652304</id><published>2007-11-13T14:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T14:43:30.751-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Holidays and the other random days of the year!</title><content type='html'>Your grief comes and goes, it hits at weird and inappropriate times too.  As I was sitting in class and watching the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Family Stone&lt;/span&gt;, there's a point in the movie where one by one the children start to realize that their mom is dieing.  Usually I am not an emotional person, but it just hit me hard.  The movie takes place around Christmas, and watching all the children come home and spending time together, just rubbed me wrong.  I began to choke up as I thought how I wouldn't be able to share completely in that joy, that there will always be something missing from my holidays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is not the first time that I have been hit by that realization, but something about that moment in the film just really hit home.  I sat there trying to choke back that emotions that were starting to rise to the surface.  I was em,embarrassed and uncomfortable and thought about leaving class, because I was not sure that I could handle it.  I hate that vulnerable feeling that comes out of nowhere it is so awkward, you really just do not know what to do with yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After leaving class I was just in this awful trans like mode, where I assume I will be for a good majority of the rest of the day.  Yes, it definitely puts a damper on your plans.  Wouldn't it be nice if you could map these freak  moments out on a calendar so it wouldn't interrupt your plans?  It would work so much better for myself!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course to it is that ti me of year, the holiday season brings great joy, but often a sentimental remembrance that makes you edgy and upset on occasion.  I can now almost pinpoint the day this period begins and ends.  It's funny how over the years that you become so in tune with your emotional state that you can predict feelings sometimes and then years later out of no where this god awful break down comes in.  I think it is a matter of accepting that you will have your good and bad days and it is just a matter of learning how to live with them.  I wish I had a mapped out calendar of days you should be aware of, but unfortunately life is not that easy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This will be my last post for my class.  But I do plan on checking to see if anyone has showed interest in it afterward, so please if you need to voice the frustrations in your life please do so here.  As this is always a shoulder to lean on and someone to vent to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chelsey&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9025209052102955029-4501958300800652304?l=grievingtogether.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grievingtogether.blogspot.com/feeds/4501958300800652304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9025209052102955029&amp;postID=4501958300800652304' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9025209052102955029/posts/default/4501958300800652304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9025209052102955029/posts/default/4501958300800652304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grievingtogether.blogspot.com/2007/11/holidays-and-other-random-days-of-year.html' title='The Holidays and the other random days of the year!'/><author><name>Chelsey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16513258623461387787</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025209052102955029.post-5667662242384531938</id><published>2007-11-10T17:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T14:28:41.268-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"How are they?"  After they are gone.</title><content type='html'>Sometimes it is awkward when people you haven't seen in years ask how someone is, this is after they have died and that person has no clue yet.  I had a dental assistant start crying over me!  How about you?  Share your awkward moments, they can end up being funny!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9025209052102955029-5667662242384531938?l=grievingtogether.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grievingtogether.blogspot.com/feeds/5667662242384531938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9025209052102955029&amp;postID=5667662242384531938' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9025209052102955029/posts/default/5667662242384531938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9025209052102955029/posts/default/5667662242384531938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grievingtogether.blogspot.com/2007/11/how-are-they-after-they-are-gone.html' title='&quot;How are they?&quot;  After they are gone.'/><author><name>Chelsey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16513258623461387787</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025209052102955029.post-1638215482279242218</id><published>2007-11-03T19:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-03T19:44:13.539-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Different forms of Loss</title><content type='html'>There are many kinds of loss in this world.  The loss of a family member or friend to death, the loss of a pet or even a job sometimes.  Loss can be in death or in separation from that person or place.  Some losses seem worse than others, until it happens to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think one of the hardest losses for me, was when I lost my best friend.  She didn't die, but a situation took her from me and we were never able to talk again.  The pain of knowing that she was not in my life any longer, but still on this earth made it worse than a loss to death for me.  I wanted nothing more than to see her and for everything to be normal again, and knowing that she was going on with her life and I was just stuck grieving from it just killed me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loss comes in so many forms that I think you would find it interesting just how many other people are out there grieving over the loss of someone or something and feel just as alone as you do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9025209052102955029-1638215482279242218?l=grievingtogether.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grievingtogether.blogspot.com/feeds/1638215482279242218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9025209052102955029&amp;postID=1638215482279242218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9025209052102955029/posts/default/1638215482279242218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9025209052102955029/posts/default/1638215482279242218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grievingtogether.blogspot.com/2007/11/different-forms-of-loss.html' title='Different forms of Loss'/><author><name>Chelsey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16513258623461387787</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025209052102955029.post-3826031623710736965</id><published>2007-10-27T15:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-27T15:14:34.443-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Pushing Rewind</title><content type='html'>&lt;h2 style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Pushing Rewind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;I wish that time could just rewind&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;Taking us back to the laughter&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;That use to fill the days of happiness&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;Sometimes my heart pounds with hurt&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;In a fatal blink, you were gone&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;Your wings taking you home where you belong&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;Trying not to be so selfish missing you&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;For now you sing in the chorus of angels&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;Watching from the kingdom up above&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;You came to serve, so many you did&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;That day the whole world mourned&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;When their mother Teresa passed&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;Ending this scene, but not the movie&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;I look forward to the grand finale&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:18;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;When we’ll meet once again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9025209052102955029-3826031623710736965?l=grievingtogether.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grievingtogether.blogspot.com/feeds/3826031623710736965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9025209052102955029&amp;postID=3826031623710736965' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9025209052102955029/posts/default/3826031623710736965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9025209052102955029/posts/default/3826031623710736965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grievingtogether.blogspot.com/2007/10/pushing-rewind.html' title='Pushing Rewind'/><author><name>Chelsey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16513258623461387787</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025209052102955029.post-493798263445897087</id><published>2007-10-20T16:10:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-20T16:21:11.943-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Having to Remember all the Details</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;When you originally lose someone you think about them everyday.  Your life is kind of consumed with that, maybe because you feel like if you do not you may forget them.  As time goes on that slowly starts to sit further back in your thoughts, it is no longer a priority in your day.  Out of no where you realize that you did not stop to think about that person yesterday.  You panic and feel horrible and almost punish yourself mentally and emotionally because you are placing more importance in other things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;This is a completely normal and all just part of the process.  In all actuality  you will never be able to forget that person because they are forever imprinted into your memories and life.  Sure you may sometimes forget the joke that you two always laughed at, stories that were told, but the person remains a part of you forever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;After my mom died I was afraid too of forgetting every detail about her.  Those were the only things I had left and I never wanted to forget a single thing.  An obvious piece of advice I received was to start writing all the moments and memories, with painful details in a book.  This way you will never forget and can later revisit them when you are not thinking clear or lose track.  Looking back I wish I would have stuck with that more.  There are things I find hard to remember, but I do not punish myself for forgetting them.  It is just a part of life and though the details mean a lot, the person means more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9025209052102955029-493798263445897087?l=grievingtogether.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grievingtogether.blogspot.com/feeds/493798263445897087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9025209052102955029&amp;postID=493798263445897087' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9025209052102955029/posts/default/493798263445897087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9025209052102955029/posts/default/493798263445897087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grievingtogether.blogspot.com/2007/10/having-to-remember-all-details.html' title='Having to Remember all the Details'/><author><name>Chelsey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16513258623461387787</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025209052102955029.post-3944643322370049537</id><published>2007-10-06T21:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-06T21:24:08.002-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Living, One Year After</title><content type='html'>&lt;h2  style="font-weight: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span&gt;Living, One Year After&lt;/span&gt; is a poem I wrote for my poetry class in high school.  I ended up reading this to the class exactly one year after my mom's death.  Many in the class new her and were crying, which made me feel awkward as I did not like showing my emotions in public.  I was doing OK and when others would fall apart I just didn't know what to do.  I thought why did I have to comfort others over my moms death I'm fine why aren't they?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;  But, through my grieving process I found that writing was a huge outlet for my frustrations, anger, sadness, it helped to see everything on paper.  Maybe it is physically being able to see what you are feeling that helps, whatever it was it helped pull my  thoughts together.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;Living, One Year After&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Sitting here I flash back exactly one year ago&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;To the horror and pain that flooded my body&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;All of us standing around your bed letting you go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoEnvelopeReturn"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;I go back six days before, when you left for surgery&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Too consumed in my own life, not even a goodbye&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;I slept in the warmth of my bed, while you on a cold table&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoEnvelopeReturn"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Waiting outside for you to wake up, not knowing the outcome&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;With an absent minded mistake, your life they took away&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Depriving the world of a comedian, hero, nurse, friend, and mom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoEnvelopeReturn"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;As sirens approached an odd fear overwhelmed my heart&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;As I thought of yesterdays shopping trip, coffee, and chats&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Not possibly imagining that they would be our very last&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoEnvelopeReturn"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;The following days were a blur, as people came and went&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;I sat at your bedside doing your hair, rubbing your hand&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Looking at pictures kids had sent, everyone thinking of you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoEnvelopeReturn"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;While in my morn my head held high as I cared for everyone too&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Running on fumes I just hoped and prayed that I could be like you&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Not as strong was I, but I tried to fill your outstanding shoes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoEnvelopeReturn"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Until that day, one week past that we had to call your last &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Everyone bedside holding on as the nurse pulled the plug&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;It took 20 minutes for your heart to let go, ours are still saying no&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;But strong I hold not letting you down, ever so firm I stand&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;For me to hold on would be nothing short of selfish&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;Because today, one year after I know you're smiling down.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9025209052102955029-3944643322370049537?l=grievingtogether.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grievingtogether.blogspot.com/feeds/3944643322370049537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9025209052102955029&amp;postID=3944643322370049537' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9025209052102955029/posts/default/3944643322370049537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9025209052102955029/posts/default/3944643322370049537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grievingtogether.blogspot.com/2007/10/living-one-year-after.html' title='Living, One Year After'/><author><name>Chelsey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16513258623461387787</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025209052102955029.post-864972448349855438</id><published>2007-09-29T22:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-09-29T22:12:48.123-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Help Others, But Start with Yourself</title><content type='html'>When you lose someone in your family, automatically you try to fill the void.  That emptiness feels weird and foreign, it is very uncomfortable.  It's hard to pin point this feeling in the middle of grief, but in retrospect you start to understand why you did certain things and said what you did.  Although you may be feeling like you are useful and really helping those around you, you also have to be very careful.  It's easy to lose yourself and enable others.  It is probably the most difficult thing I have ever done was to stop playing mom, wife, sister, and daughter.  When I should have concentrated on being the best sister and daughter possible and spent a little more time on me.  It sounds selfish, but to help others you need to be able to heel yourself first!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9025209052102955029-864972448349855438?l=grievingtogether.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grievingtogether.blogspot.com/feeds/864972448349855438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9025209052102955029&amp;postID=864972448349855438' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9025209052102955029/posts/default/864972448349855438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9025209052102955029/posts/default/864972448349855438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grievingtogether.blogspot.com/2007/09/help-others-but-start-with-yourself.html' title='Help Others, But Start with Yourself'/><author><name>Chelsey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16513258623461387787</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025209052102955029.post-5579540101066759359</id><published>2007-09-16T18:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-09-16T18:39:39.278-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Strength Through Faith</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Psalm 30:5&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Psalm 34:18&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;John 3:16a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that whoever beliebed in him shall not perish but have eternal life."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have found that in the darkest times, when I was grieving, that the one thing that always pulled me through was my faith.  When my mom died, I felt like I was almost "born again" in faith, as I had set it to the side for my social life.  The only thing that comforted me in my mourning was knowing that she was in a much beter place than I was.  In fact I was even mad at her for leaving me in this world that can almost be hellish.  Knowing that I would see her again comforted my sorrows.  My best advice is when in doubt always turn to your faith, the answers to your problems will always be found their!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9025209052102955029-5579540101066759359?l=grievingtogether.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grievingtogether.blogspot.com/feeds/5579540101066759359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9025209052102955029&amp;postID=5579540101066759359' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9025209052102955029/posts/default/5579540101066759359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9025209052102955029/posts/default/5579540101066759359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grievingtogether.blogspot.com/2007/09/strength-through-faith.html' title='Strength Through Faith'/><author><name>Chelsey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16513258623461387787</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025209052102955029.post-8153470696282456152</id><published>2007-09-11T00:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-09-11T00:33:54.329-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Six Years Ago Today</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Today I am reminded of the thousands of people in this country who lost parents, kids, siblings six years ago.  Also, I am thinking of all the men and women currently serving in the armed forces and of those who have made the ultimate sacrifce for all of us.  I hope you can take a moment out of your day to do the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Always remember and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;NEVER forget&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9025209052102955029-8153470696282456152?l=grievingtogether.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grievingtogether.blogspot.com/feeds/8153470696282456152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9025209052102955029&amp;postID=8153470696282456152' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9025209052102955029/posts/default/8153470696282456152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9025209052102955029/posts/default/8153470696282456152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grievingtogether.blogspot.com/2007/09/six-years-ago-today.html' title='Six Years Ago Today'/><author><name>Chelsey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16513258623461387787</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025209052102955029.post-6406334617963622398</id><published>2007-09-07T13:17:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-09-07T13:24:02.010-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't be Afraid</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 204);font-family:verdana;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hi! &lt;/span&gt; Welcome to my blog. I want you all to feel free to post anything. Whatever you are feeling, how your day has been, your story of loss, whatever you feel like. Remember this is a community of people just like you feeling your frustrations and pains. So don't be afraid. Whatever you have inside let it out. You'd be surprised how it feels!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 204);font-family:verdana;" &gt;There is nothing to be scared or nervous about, we don't know who you are, we just know that we share a bond with you. I hope you join in on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;discussions&lt;/span&gt; or thoughts!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9025209052102955029-6406334617963622398?l=grievingtogether.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grievingtogether.blogspot.com/feeds/6406334617963622398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9025209052102955029&amp;postID=6406334617963622398' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9025209052102955029/posts/default/6406334617963622398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9025209052102955029/posts/default/6406334617963622398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grievingtogether.blogspot.com/2007/09/dont-be-afraid.html' title='Don&apos;t be Afraid'/><author><name>Chelsey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16513258623461387787</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
