Getting lost in the picture albums...

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My way of 'grief management'...

If anyone wonders why I keep talking about my 'deceased' wife the way I do...then it's the way I handle my 'loss' and it makes ME feel better. I reach for every thought that makes it possible. Syl used to say that 'you have to cry it out'. Well...I do that too. Sometimes I'm like a blubbering idiot when I think of not being able to 'hold' her in my arms and comfort her, to 'see' her smile, to 'hear' her laugh. That's when she comforts me and tells me that she's alright. LOVE is not about 'the physical'. It makes me FEEL better to celebrate her life rather than mourn her death. It turns each day into something special. Good mourning? I don't think that 'animal' exists. But a good morning/mourning is the way I begin each day. I don't know when the tears will come...but I reach for the 'thought' that FEELS better. I talk about all the things I've learned from her, about the people that are ...
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Do I believe in miracles...?

My first introduction to miracles came to me from my parents. They told me about the happenings on January 13th, 1938. My 20 yr. old mother went into labor with me and my dad rushed her to University Hospital in Cleveland. She had a rough time of it. The Dr. told her there was a serious problem and I would have to be delivered Cesarean section. Also, because of the nature of the problem a choice had to be made. He could save my mom's life...or mine, and even then there were no guarantees. Stella (that's my mom's name) made a choice. She told the doctor to save me. She said she'd already experienced life and wanted me to have the same chance. Well...the delivery was made. I came squalling into this world at 1:38 AM on January 14th, and two weeks later than anticipated. The brat (that's me) survived...but the miracle was that my mom lived until 1980. Hmmm. I guess if I didn't make it, I wouldn't be writing this. Anyhow. From then on my life has been series of...
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John's 'secret'...

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     Today I was looking at my clown painting and suddenly, it jarred my memory.  It doesn't take much jarring these days to take a trip down Memory Lane or whatever that street's called.      I don't like to lay the blame on anyone, but since she's deceased, I'll point my finger at Sylvia as the culprit that got me going on my clown collection and my interest in clowns..  It all started several years before when the lady in question and I were just friends.  We were able to become 'best friends' so quickly because both of us had made the promise that we would NEVER get married again after what we'd been through.      One morning at Denny's, while we were having breakfast we had a sort of 'true confession' session.  It was during these we told each other 'secrets' that we would not even tell to our closest friends and family.  During one of these times, I told Syl  my biggest secret that not even my parents ...
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