Saturday, December 1, 2018

Reflections on holidays.

It's almost Chanukah and I've been reflecting on all the holidays that have come and gone in the last 18 months, both secular and religious.

Though I have made note of some of them by participating in a few, specifically the High Holidays and Shabbat services, most of the others have received little or no attention from me. I've done nothing for Passover except buy a few boxes of matzah.  (I know, but I happen to like the stuff!) I haven't gone to any Passover seder. Last year I put an electric chanukiah in the window. This year I'm not even pulling it out. I did all the Shabbat blessings last night for the first time and it felt just as I expected. Someone was missing to make it feel complete and meaningful.

On Thanksgiving I made a turkey and had my son and a friend over. It was a nice meal. July fourth is now just another day. I do watch the Boston Pops Fourth of July concert, though. We've done that for years and years and now I continue to do that. But that's a difficult few days since our anniversary was July third.

I don't get excited about any of this simply because it's not fun when there is no one to share these days with. Alone is a word that I can hardly wrap my head around but it's there, in front of me, in huge capital letters: ALONE.* Nevertheless, I'm becoming used to and still making my peace with it. So, celebrating holidays has become unimportant and irrelevant for me.

But I take pleasure in hoping and wishing that everyone else enjoys all the holidays they love and participate in. I wish you all good health, good cheer, much happiness and a lifetime of giggles and laughter.....much laughter.

* I may be alone but not without companions.... my two furry doggies help me to keep my sense of humor and my sanity. They bring me much joy and yes, a lot of giggles and laughter.

Now I just need some chocolate!

Copyright © 2018. Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved.

Thursday, October 25, 2018

There is me and there is me

There are two of me, the inside and the outside. The outside me looks normal. I smile and actually laugh on occasion, I have normal conversations, I participate in some activities, I go to the occasional lunch with friends, I watch and cheer mightily for my Red Sox, Patriots, Celtics and Bruins. I interact with my doggies a lot. I go to the gym and have even lost some weight. These are all good things.

Then there's the inside me. Up until recently, the inside me was totally out of control. The anguish, the incredible pain, the heartache was just more than I could bear. The sadness would wash over me like an enormous wave and I felt as if I would drown in it. I couldn't come up for air. But little by little, his voice would come through, at first allowing me to go through the pain for however long it might take and then, in soft whispers, I could hear him in my head telling me it was okay to begin to let go of the anger. In my head thoughts of all the times he embraced me, encircling me with his arms and hugging me close started to become almost real. I remembered what that felt like since he did it every day of our life together.

I have to think what an unprecedented gift it was to be hugged and embraced with extraordinary love through such a long love story.  No matter what anyone else thinks, I have to be luckiest person on the face of the earth to have been so loved by such an exceptional human being. And though I will always mourn for my Beloved, I can now bask in his love as those memories wash over me time and time again. And there is an added bonus: our sons. They are two most extraordinary young men who personify everything good about their dad, from his twinkling eyes, to his sense of humor, his intelligence, his kindness! What proud parents we always were.

On July 3, 1966 we clasped our hands and guided each other through life with unending love, kindness, laughter, compassion, intelligence and happiness. What a way to steer through an over five decades-long love affair. That love affair keeps on going in my heart, in my head, in my memories as they sustain me and help me to become almost whole once again.

Copyright © 2018. Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved.

Wednesday, October 10, 2018

A short homage to my brother, Ed.

This is long overdue but I have to say "Thanks, Eddie." Thank you from the bottom of my heart.  It was bashert (fated or predestined in Yiddish) that Warren and I would enjoy 55 years of love. And you, my dear brother, put all that in motion. It was a wonderful coincidence that you and Warren were fraternity brothers at UMass. You "fixed us up" for Pledge Weekend. I was still in high school and not very savvy around college kids. It was a nice and interesting weekend even though it was a little awkward on my part.

It would be two years later that Warren and I ran into each other back at the TEP house (Tau Epsilon Phi). I had changed considerably and I was now a college student. And, obviously, sparks flew. He asked me out and, after that first actual date, I immediately knew I loved him. Funny how love happens. It was that quick for both of us.

So, it was bashert that you went to UMass, that you became a TEP brother, that Warren followed that same path and my Beloved and I spent the next 55 years so completely in love.

My brother has been gone since 1988 and I know I thanked him for bringing us together but I wanted to publicly acknowledge the role he played in our happiness. Warren and I often reminisced about how we met. Ed, you did a good thing and I will forever love you for being the catalyst of our 55 year love affair.

Copyright © 2018. Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved.

Saturday, October 6, 2018

From tears to laughter

I don't get tired of crying. Whether it's tears just rolling down my face or the tears are copious enough to make me gasp, the end result is the same. It seems as natural to me as blinking. The tears are an ending of a small portion of my day when my thoughts have gone to that place. And, willingly or not,  I go to that place every day. The events that bring up that place are always there, buried most of the time deep inside but not always.

I've been looking through a lot of old photos, a few every couple of days just to bring those wonderful and funny memories to the forefront, even though they're in my head all the time. Sometimes the photos and their accompanying memories elicit sobs but many times the reaction is total laughter.

The thing about laughter was that when I laughed, it made Warren giggle. When something struck me funny, my laughter would bubble up and burst not only from my mouth but from the very bottom of my feet, or as my dad used to say, "from the bottom of my pedeshvas." I don't know if that was a Yiddish word or something my dad made up but he used it to describe my laughter.

Anyway, when I laughed, I couldn't stop. Most of the time I laughed so damn long that Warren had to try to calm me down. Sometimes my laughter would continue for 15-20minutes, with me gasping for breath. When I finally did stop, it wasn't for long. It would bubble up again and again. My laughter was one of the things that Warren loved about me. No need to tickle, just crack a joke or a pun and off I'd go!

So, when I'm reduced to tears and sobs, I search for the memories that will bring up the laughter. And it's the laughter that helps me keep my sanity.

Copyright © 2018. Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved.

Thursday, September 20, 2018

I lost it

My synagogue is almost 42 miles north of where I live. I make the trip because I love the Rabbi, the services and the many friends I have there.

I was able to sit through Yom Kippur morning services. And even though I had invitations from some friends to spend the 'break' between the morning and afternoon service at their homes, I declined and opted to drive back home. I didn't think I could handle the Yiskor service. Yiskor, in Hebrew, means "Remember" and is the first word in the Yiskor prayer. I had a pretty good idea of how I would react throughout that part of the service.

When I came home I remembered that services were being streamed from the Central Synagogue in New York City, not only on Facebook and their own website, but they were being televised on the JBS TV channel. I tuned in at the middle of the Yiskor service and listened through to the end of Neilah.

Thousands of people were streaming the service and making comments in real time on the Facebook page. During the Kaddish, I felt as if I was joining a world-wide minyon and recited the Kaddish in my own home, the tears streaming down my face. As I watched, Central Synagogue invited those watching to type in the names of those we were saying Kaddish for and so I did, through my tears.

But sometime during the Neilah service I totally lost it. The tears became rivers, the crying became  loud, guttural screams, the words flying out of my mouth were not pretty. And I scared the dogs.

Herc, Abbott's big lab, came running over, put his paws on my knees and began to kiss me everywhere he could find a spot to lick. He buried his head in my chest and kept looking into my eyes as if to say, "It's going to be okay." My own two pups, Snuggles and Sterling did the same thing, each trying to comfort me in the only way they knew how, jumping onto the sofa and then on to my lap.

It took a while for me to calm down and reflect on what had just happened. Since my beloved Warren passed away, there hasn't been a single day when I haven't shed tears, sometimes a lot, sometimes not so much. I think the solemnity of the day brought back memories of the last Yom Kippur service we attended together. I remember how much I prayed then that he would be written in the Book of Life. It was not to be. I think the memory of that prayer that would not be granted, triggered those horrific tears and gut-wrenching pain.

In retrospect, the episode feels like a cleansing. It was something that needed to happen. Today, I feel a bit stronger so maybe that was the point.......... me getting stronger.

Copyright © 2018. Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved.

Sunday, September 2, 2018

The First Visit

Yup, it's still there, the anguish. I've been able to push it way down to the bottom of my heart but every once in a while it bubbles up and then it explodes like a volcano, raining tears and guttural crying like a wounded animal.

It happened today. I went to the cemetery for my first visit since the unveiling. I brought special stones to place on the gravestone and right after I did that, I lost it. In doing so I placed my head on the stone and just let the grief flow, like a rushing, overflowing river. It took a few minutes for me to regain my breath and some semblance of composure. I knew this visit was going to be very difficult and it was. While holding onto the stone, I talked to Warren - about the boys, my daily life, the emptiness I still feel, and some funny memories. The conversation seemed natural and I could hear his responses in my head. I imagine subsequent visits may get easier.

Before I left I placed stones on a few graves of friends who have gone before. Then I came back to my Beloved, whispered "I love you" and then sat in the car for a few minutes just staring at the stone. The line carved at the bottom, "We Shared a Lifetime of Love and Laughter," jumped out at me as if that's what he wanted me to remember from this visit. And so I will.

Copyright © 2018. Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved.

Friday, August 17, 2018

We had the best.

I can go about my day, doing ordinary things either in the house or driving to do errands when suddenly I am attacked for a few fleeting seconds by trepidation, fear, anxiety, foreboding, unease, dread ........ all words that could describe a feeling I get in the pit of my stomach and in my chest. It happens suddenly, with no warning. It's like that feeling you get when walking into an unknown situation. In those moments I hear the words "he's not here" like a thunderous scream in my ear. Then it's gone. And, yes, it happens when my thoughts are on my Beloved and his handsome face flashes before my eyes and that handsome face, complete with the most beautiful hazel eyes and a totally captivating smile had me mesmerized and totally in love with him on our first date.

If you look at a life, there are so many different stages that we live through. I've described a stage (above) I seem to be living through right now but I've been a daughter, sister, college student, teacher, fiancée, bride, wife, mom, radio news broadcaster and talk show host, law office manager and retiree. Wife and mom were my most cherished roles and they continue to be. My role as wife and lover to Warren has been the joy of my life. The four years leading up to our wedding day and the almost fifty-one years we were married were so unbelievably happy.

And my role as mom to Ethan and Abbott has always been one of complete happiness. Warren and I raised two of the finest young men who ever graced the face of the earth. And I, unabashedly, say they take after their dad.

I've  had so many roles and worn so many hats over the years but my current one is not one I want to wear. I can't even write the word nor can I say it. So I don't really acknowledge it. I go through each day alone physically but not mentally or emotionally. I hear his voice in my head, talking to me about things I'm doing. I 'consult' him when there are decisions I have to make. My mind goes back to conversations we used to have and his wise counsel often comes through loud and clear.

We talked, we listened, we discussed. We laughed. It was a loving, exciting, gentle, joyful, intellectual relationship filled with so much laughter. I feel joy when I think of the extraordinary life we had together. We had the best.

Copyright © 2018. Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Sunday, July 22, 2018

The Unveiling

We held the unveiling today. Friends and family arrived to support Ethan, Abbott and me. I had put together a small booklet with readings, thoughts and prayers. At the appropriate time, our sons unveiled the stone. Among the lettering were the words, Brilliant, Kindhearted and Punster. Each word was carefully chosen because they had special meaning for us. At the bottom was this line: We Shared A Lifetime Of Love and Laughter.

I had all I could do to retain my composure while I led the readings and the recital of Kaddish and I wasn't very successful at it. But with our sons by my side I got through it. I then asked the group to indulge me while I read the following:

*"As I continue to grieve the loss of my beloved Warren, I keep him with me, hidden deep inside, cognizant of his presence every day and these days it doesn't weigh on me quite as much with sadness. The pain, though, is still there. That has never disappeared. These days his memory is deep in my heart and is as normal to me as breathing or the sound of my own voice. There is no real healing of that pain, but I'm learning how to carry it. I must be a slow learner, though.

*I love it when you talk about him because you aren't just reminding me of him. He's always in my every thought. When you talk about him, mentioning the puns and jokes he came out with so often, talking about his kindness and intellect, you're reminding me that I'm not the only one remembering him, that he was here among us all, that he was so much a part of me and still is, and that he continues to be my other half in everything I do. By mentioning him, you honor his memory and you let me know that he continues to be a part of you, too."
* (Inspired by Lexi Behrndt)

The entire time I felt that Warren was right beside me, his arm around my waist, as he so often did to steady and support me. He was proud of us today.

Copyright © 2018. Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Sunday, July 8, 2018

He was part Vulcan!

I finally figured it out!  Warren was part Vulcan and he did a mind meld with me before he left. It's the only logical explanation! He often cradled my head gently between his hands, his forehead to my forehead, whispering "I love you" among other things.  "My thoughts to your thoughts." That's what's been happening all these months. 

As you all know, I've been talking to my Beloved ever since..........  And when I do, it's obvious that my mind's eye works overtime.  Everything I say to him has an answer, in his voice. And I can 'see' him as he responds to my comments.

We obviously have a telepathic link between us which lets us exchange thoughts. We become one mind, sharing consciousness, just as we did before. I always knew he had incredible abilities but this........... this....... he was saving for when it was needed.

I knew our connection would never be severed so I'm expecting this mind meld to last forever. 

Copyright © 2018. Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Thursday, July 5, 2018

The aftermath

I'm swimming in the aftermath of those awakened memories. Reading those wonderful letters my Beloved wrote to me so long ago gave me so much happiness. I had several hours of joy in thinking back to those sweet years when our love was just beginning.

But then the inevitable happened. I had a complete and total meltdown filled with sorrow so intense I was screaming and crying out with a despair so deep I almost passed out. The feeling of emptiness is so palpable and the sadness is overwhelming.

I called a very dear friend in New York a few hours later. Our conversation was intense, comforting and gave me a way to open the valve and let it all out.

This isn't the first time I've had such outbursts. This one was just the worst. I'm okay now, today. But I know these episodes will probably happen again. But, as my friend told me, the anguish has to come out and if this is the process, just let it happen, just let it wash over me.  Good advice.

Copyright © 2018. Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, July 4, 2018

Sometimes the universe works in mysterious ways

July 3, 2018 would have been our fifty-second anniversary. I was dreading the day, fully expecting it to be a very difficult one for me. But it turned out to be a rather extraordinary day for me.

I was looking for something and knew it was probably in my hall closet. I'm short so I took a step stool, placed it in front of the open closet and stepped on it so I could reach the top shelf. I started to move stuff around including a cloth bag that was laying there. I thought I knew what was in the cloth bag and pulled it down, placing it on the dining table nearby. I went back to the closet and found what I originally was looking for and took it down.

I sat at the dining table and opened the cloth bag. I pulled out all the letters my beloved Warren had written to me from the time we met (the second time.) I had kept them all. There were dozens and dozens written between February of 1962 through May of 1963, all during his junior and senior years at the University of Massachusetts. But what was also in the bag were all the cards we received for our wedding and all the cards we received for our first anniversary! And among the treasures was the card that accompanied the bouquet of flowers I received from Warren's Tau Epsilon Phi fraternity brothers congratulating me on getting "pinned."

I spent the afternoon rereading the letters, starting with the oldest one. As I read each one, my mind went flying back to that time and the memories were so vivid that I felt as if I was transported back in time. I haven't read all of them yet because each one made me pause as I relived that time, thinking of where I was, what I was doing and what I was feeling. It's as if I was watching, once again, our love unfold.

I looked over the wedding and anniversary cards and couldn't keep the smiles from enveloping my face.

Ethan called today, the 3rd, to check up on me knowing what this day meant to me. I told him about the letters and told him he and Abbott just have to read each letter because it will give them real insight into their Dad's wacky sense of humor, intelligence and storytelling abilities. Abbott and I went out to dinner tonight and I told him about the letters, tickling his curiosity. I'm hoping the boys and I will have a reading-fest during the weekend of Warren's unveiling.

I have several more letters to read but the first one holds the key to our love story. We barely knew each other but his first letter, asking me out, was signed LOVE, WARREN. That, I noticed, was an unusual way to end a first letter but it was an indication of things to come.

So, July 3, 2018 turned out to be a nostalgic day filled with the most exquisite of loving memories. I honestly believe Warren's heart and hand guided me to that bag. He knew what I needed and made sure to provide it. Thank you, my darling.

Copyright © 2018, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Thursday, June 28, 2018

In praise of the supporting players

My posts starting in April of 2017 all revolved around the battle we fought to keep my beloved Warren alive and to get him well. From the day we got the diagnosis in May of 2016, this was a battle waged by our entire family.

Our sons became extreme activists. Every night, Abbott would comb the Internet looking for any and all information on different treatments. He came up with so much information it was mind-boggling. And every bit of information was copied to us as we all followed up on every piece. Much of the information was beneficial and we made good use of what we learned.

In the meantime, Ethan was doing some of the same and calling constantly, feeding us information with a very liberal amount of encouragement. Between the two guys, we were able to take advantage of every lead, protocol, or treatment available here in the U.S and elsewhere. The decisions we made were based upon all the information we, as a family, gathered from not only the Internet but from picking the brains of everyone we knew who might have leads for us to follow. And there were many.

I am convinced that the incredible love, support and encouragement we got from our sons lengthened the days our Warren was able to spend with us. And those days were quality days because of the alternative protocols he followed.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention how important our doggies were in all this. Somehow they knew Warren was not well and they stayed by his side or on his lap constantly, heaping tons of affection on him. Warren got a lot of pleasure from their attention.

The love and support of our sons was key in this journey of hope and our lives were enriched beyond measure because of them. Warren and I spoke often about how blessed we were to have such incredibly wonderful sons and we joked often that we really did something right! They continue to be a source of love and pride and comfort for me.

Ethan and Abbott, you have my heart!

Copyright©2018 Reisa Sterling Miller All Rights Reserved

Thursday, June 21, 2018

Perhaps we will sit on that cloud forever.

We're sitting on a cloud, side by side, about forty to fifty feet above our back yard and just enjoying the view and the peacefulness. The conversation is soft and pensive. We speak wistfully about the landmarks that dotted our lives, starting with our wedding day. When we talk about what we considered to be the best day of our lives, we laugh and agree that there was more than just one "best day of our lives." Our wedding day and the days each one of our sons was born comes to mind. And there were so many more!

The reminiscing continues as we remember so many wonderful things that encompassed our lives: the experience of being in the Air Force for five years and our travels during that time - the incredible friends we made and places we saw; our subsequent civilian moves, settling in a few states and making more wonderful friends along the way.

After all of this comes flashing through my mind at lightning speed, other thoughts start to crowd in.

I tell him I never expected him to die. I felt that way all throughout the ordeal we lived through. I always thought we, together, would beat this scourge.

Even during his last few days, I tell him, "I never once thought things wouldn't turn around."

He smiles at me, gives me a hug and says my optimism was contagious and that he, too, had the hope of a recovery.

"I never saw you doubt what you were doing to get well," I whispered.

"I never did." he says.

And so, he tells me that the only regret he has is that we didn't have more time together. We were hoping for maybe seventy years together......or just maybe forever.

But oh, look at the life we made..... so full of life and love and happiness.

And as we sit on that cloud, arms around each other, whispering softly, sighing and smiling, I know that he remains with me, always.... in my heart, in my mind, when I pick up a beautiful bird feather, when I see a single bright star, when I hear a joke or pun, or music we both loved. I remember and love him with every breath I take, every single minute of every single day and always will.....even after I take my last breath.

Copyright©2018. Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Friday, June 8, 2018

Sometimes music is my enemy

I was cleaning out an area of the living room where all our music CDs are stored. So I pulled out a bunch and placed them near my computer. I have a stereo system that stores and plays 51 CDs. I hadn't used the CD player for several years and the CDs were still in there. So, I figured out how to start the thing and began listening to the music. After the third one, I shut it off and went out to do an errand, glad to get out of the house for a bit.

So, now it's after lunch, I'm back at my computer and looking at a zippered CD holder full of the discs. Most of these discs are compilations that either I made or friends made many years ago (when I knew how to do that.) I start to play them, one at a time, and I'm swept back in time to happier memories and the tears start pouring down my face. It's as if a dam opened up and, unlike the little Dutch boy, I can't stop the flow.

I let the meltdown happen and I know more will follow because this is June and Warren's first Yahrzeit is coming up. Our home was always filled with music and listening to the music from these old CDs makes my mind play the memories like a long movie....... a love story. Only now, I feel pain and sadness mingled with them.

As a meme that came through to me today says: Time doesn't heal anything, it just teaches us how to live with the pain. Maybe I'm just a slow learner.

Copyright©2018. Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Monday, May 28, 2018

Moving slowly along

I was looking through the Mesa Arts Center season brochure for 2018-2019 that came in recently. As I thumbed through the pages, several performances caught my attention, performances in normal times, Warren and I would have liked to attend. We had attended several wonderful performances at this beautiful venue and enjoyed them immensely. But these aren't normal times for me anymore.

As I read each short description, I knew I wouldn't be going to any of them. The idea of attending any of these performances doesn't appeal to me. I can't envision me initiating a trip to one of these evenings. It just doesn't feel right. At least not yet.

Places we used to go together seem off the radar to me right now. I've been to two of those places recently and while they were pleasant experiences, I viewed them through different eyes, eyes that had tears hiding behind them.

I know these types of memories will continue to pop up, reminding me of the wonderfully happy times we spent together, doing things we loved.

I wonder, too, as I continue to write about how I feel, about how I'm trying to cope with my new reality, whether friends and acquaintances are beginning to think I'm not making progress, not crawling out of my hole of despair, not trying hard enough to shake off the sadness, that I might be swimming in self-pity. No one has indicated that kind of thinking.... yet..... but the invisible antenna in my brain causes me to speculate about what they really think.

I personally feel some differences, albeit small ones. My meltdowns are mostly less intense even though they still occur. More of my 'conversations' with him revolve around happy memories. The intense anger I have felt for so long is slowly abating. I don't know what a timetable of grief looks like but I do know my own is crawling slowly along. And crawling is the key word. There is some movement. And, no matter how slowly it goes, that's progress.

Copyright © 2018, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, May 15, 2018

I'm different and it's okay.

As the months have slipped by since my Beloved passed away and I reflect on the physical and emotional residue that I'm left with, I am not the person I once was. My words and actions are measured and hesitant. I'm more introspective. I've become a bit reclusive. I'm not as comfortable in public as I used to be. I hide behind a facade of what might appear to be cheerfulness but inside I'm still broken in millions of pieces. The passage of time hasn't seemed to change that.

I'm most comfortable with our sons and just a very few others. I've gone from a happy, carefree, full of fun existence shared with the love of my life to a quiet, contemplative, thoughtful kind of life with lots of time to think about what kinds of things should fill up my days. There are a few possibilities that I'm thinking about. But first things first.........

I haven't paid much attention to or taken care of myself for a few years and I'm reaping those "rewards" now.  So I'm taking steps to change that. And the joy I feel when there's a camera in my hands is returning now that I've picked it up again. Warren would love that and I can envision that gorgeous smile on his face, encouraging me as he always did. That's what will keep me going. We were so attuned to each other. That really hasn't changed. And for that I am grateful.

Copyright © 2018, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Saturday, May 12, 2018

The end of Kaddish

I have been saying Kaddish (the Mourner's Prayer) every morning for my Beloved since he passed away. We have an extraordinarily wonderful friend in Connecticut who has been saying Kaddish for him, two times a day, for the same amount of time. It was his way of honoring his dear, dear friend.  This week, during our conversation, he told me that today, Saturday, May 12th, would be the official Hebrew calendar date that the tradition of saying Kaddish for him would come to an end.

So, as I had done every morning for so many months, I stood in front of the many photos I have of him adorning my dresser, lifted the written prayer (which I had committed to memory years ago) and slowly recited the familiar prayer through copious tears. At its conclusion, I felt bereft, uncertain, sad and a little lost.

I spoke to him then, explaining about the ending of the recitation and reminding him (and me) that this was not an ending but now I would spend those precious few minutes each morning starting my day with a specific happy memory in place of the Kaddish.  And at that, I could see him smile.

My life with Warren was such a wonderful gift. What better way than to begin each day now with a smile, a giggle, or an outright laugh at one of the thousands of happy memories I have to draw from.

Copyright © 2018, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, April 25, 2018

I miss.........

It's just past ten months and through the solitude of my days my thoughts are always of my Beloved and the myriad of experiences we shared. I have been avoiding, consciously or unconsciously... I'm not sure which.... going to places where we went together. I'm not including places like food stores where I HAVE to go. Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix was one such place where, because we were members, we delighted in spending many, many days there, leisurely walking through this peaceful and beautiful sanctuary.

I went there, with cousins, for the first time without him on Sunday. It felt strange and bittersweet but I was able to enjoy the peacefulness and beauty of the place. And while walking through, I envisioned our previous visits, almost as if he was beside me. That was strangely comforting.

There is so much that I miss about him, our intense love for each other, the jokes and puns, the incredible laughter that was always part of our days, but I really miss his companionship. I miss him actually being with me as I go about my daily activities because we literally went everywhere together. The one place I didn't go was to the law school when he taught. If he could have figured out a way to keep me occupied for the duration of his classes, he would have loved to have me drive him in and back because he hated driving so much!

And because we went everywhere together, we talked a lot, enjoying a running commentary on everything and even singing along to some songs on the radio. I was so lucky to have that. Maybe that's why I talk to him so much now when I'm driving. It's certainly not the same but I can't be silent as I drive around. My thoughts come tumbling out as if he were right beside me in the passenger's seat. In my mind's eye, he's right there. And I consider that a good thing.

Copyright © 2018, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, March 14, 2018

Another sighting.......

He appeared again this morning, just for a few seconds but it was unmistakeable. I was in bed and I glimpsed him at the foot of the bed looking at me. He was wearing a white tee shirt, his hair a bit rumpled. It was a look I've seen thousands of times before and it was a comforting sight.

A short while later I was reminded of the words from the song, Hello Stranger: "It seems like a mighty long time, so glad you stopped by to say hello to me...."

This was his third appearance in eight and a half months.  After the second one, I hoped these appearances would continue.  Yesterday I experienced real physical and emotional pain for several minutes, again while driving, when my thoughts centered on that day last June. I think he heard me and knew he needed to show up.

The vision, this morning, made me smile.  Please continue appearing, my Darling. I need the smiles.

Copyright © 2018, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Sunday, March 4, 2018

I choose to believe

My driving narrative continues.  By now it's evident that driving is an emotional chore for me. I do it as little as I can get away with. And, as with most people, music accompanies me on every trip so as I drive I listen. The lyrics I hear become the story of my life with my Beloved.

The song today was To Sir With Love and the particular lyrics were:  "How do you thank someone who has taken you from crayons to perfume".  As I mouthed the words the rest of the song faded as that particular line became a metaphor for our early relationship. And as my mind started to race back to that period of time, I experienced a slight fluttering sensation throughout my body. I felt as though I was being surrounded by Warren's arms and it seemed very real to me.  I even asked, out loud, if he was with me and in my mind's eye I could "see" him smiling at me.

I choose to believe that what I experienced was another indication that my Beloved Warren is truly with me all the time and makes his presence known when I really need him.  My drive today didn't result in the usual tears.  I smiled!

Copyright © 2018, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Thursday, March 1, 2018

Why now?

In the past few weeks I've had a couple of days of complete meltdowns. But these were different. I was completely engulfed by a tremendous sense of guilt. And once again, I was driving each time when it hit me. What came racing through my mind was my inadequacy in dealing with our situation. I didn't do enough, I didn't find enough ways to keep him encouraged about what we were doing, I didn't say all the things I should have, I didn't........... I didn't....... I didn't.......

What was so frightening was the physical feeling I experienced. I felt as if my whole body was devoid of oxygen and I couldn't breathe. I became agitated, crying my eyes out and raced to get home before I couldn't see anything at all through my tears. By the time I got home I was breathing so hard I was hyperventilating.

The thoughts that precipitated these guilt-ridden meltdowns have not yet been resolved even though I know they have no basis in fact. I guess this is the emotional price I will pay from time to time unless and until I somehow find a way to feel a sense of peace and healing.

It's been only eight months but it's as raw and crushing today as it has always been.  And I still have no idea why these two episodes happened at this time. What does that say about me? I always thought I was a rather strong person. Perhaps I was and still am in most situations. But in this case, this may be the one area where I'm allowed to cry, scream, question and doubt for however long I need to, even if that's until the cows come home!

Maybe I have survivor's guilt, as a friend so delicately put it to me. Maybe so, but I do have days that aren't that bad and they outnumber the meltdowns. Perhaps the cows are thinking of heading home.

Copyright © 2018, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, February 13, 2018

I chose this life

I chose this life fifty-three years ago when my beloved Warren and I became engaged.......on Valentine's Day, February 14, 1965. When we married seventeen months later, we embarked on a lifetime of love and laughter.

What a ride it was! We lived at sixteen different addresses, from the East Coast to the West Coast to the South and back, in six different states, all providing adventures and memories beyond the normal. Who else would think of driving 90 miles, over the mountains, from the Mojave Desert (Edwards Air Force Base) into Los Angeles for a Kosher sandwich and then drive right back again?

On a thirty day tour of the West, we brought our car into a Denver dealership to be serviced, flew out to Chicago for a few days, flew back to Denver to pick up the car and continue our tour. Having the car serviced while we took the side trip offered a safe place to leave the car during those few days!

At the beginning of that tour, Triple A made a mistake and routed us to the north rim of the Grand Canyon (when there were absolutely no tourist places). When we got there and asked the Ranger where the Moqui Lodge was, he nearly convulsed with laughter and then told us it was only about 30 miles from where we were except that there was a big hole in between! We raced around to the south rim (after calling the Lodge to keep the room), arrived about 10 p.m. and thankfully got the room amidst several people who were looking to find a place to sleep.  We toured national parks all over the West and sent postcards back home exclaiming this was what was meant by America the Beautiful.

Stories. Our life together was made up of extraordinary stories, all filled with hope, joy, some misfortune, excitement, wonder but always filled with love and laughter. Always.

Those stories live on in my memories and bring me great joy. It was always the best of times, no matter what happened, because we had each other and we had our sons who have always added untold joy and happiness to our lives. I'm reminded of these lyrics from a Jacques Brel/Rod McKuen song:  We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun. That we did, all of our lives. Oh, my darling, I chose well. We chose well.

Copyright © 2018, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Sunday, January 28, 2018

Traveling through my mind.......

"Oh my god, he's not here." That thought travels through my consciousness a few times a day. It takes me a little while to let that feeling of despair wash over me. I give it the time it needs to cycle through my soul.

I've taken to saying goodnight to him every night, either in my thoughts or out loud. And every morning I greet him, again silently or out loud, as I always did, "Good morning, my sweetheart," as I look at the several photos of him adorning my dresser and walls in the bedroom. I hear his response and I picture his smile which lit up all of my mornings.

I go over in my mind what could have originated the turn of events that tore our lives apart. What could we have done differently. I wave those thoughts away because it doesn't matter now.  My thoughts turn to the things we used to talk about during the day: the boys, the dogs, sports, his law students, old law cases that are still churning, and then, interspersed...the inevitable puns. Oh my, every day I was convulsed with laughter from his never-ending puns. I used to describe this ability to constantly come up with them as kind of a disease.... he just couldn't help it. They just rolled off his tongue.

Puns have been popping up on my Twitter feed and Facebook page. Some have Warren's stamp on them. As I read them I can picture the times he used them, similar ones or the hundreds he made up on the spot, where he was and who was the unsuspecting victim! He was always asked if he was writing them down for a future book. He never did. So, whenever I hear a pun or read one, the giggles start bubbling up amid the sweet memories.

Ah, memories. The sweet and happy ones are now outnumbering the sad ones. I'm enjoying the giggles. I guess that's progress.

Copyright © 2018, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Sunday, January 14, 2018

There is no timetable

Going to Erev Shabbat services is proving to be extremely difficult for me.  I've attended a few in the past four months. When I show up I'm greeted and hugged and welcomed by so many friends. When I went in November, I couldn't stop silently crying. It was awful. Every hymn sung brought searing memories that just tore my heart out.

I wasn't able to attend in December but I went again this past Friday night. I thought I'd be okay, that I would be able to contain myself. I was doing well for a short while but then the floodgates opened. Trying to be quiet while feeling the tears erupting and engulf my whole body was a near impossible situation.  It happens as the music begins. I envision Warren sitting beside me, singing his heart out. Warren couldn't hold a tune ever. I joked with him about that and described his singing ability as being "as good as Johnny-one-note." He always chuckled at that description and totally agreed. But when he sang in Hebrew, he was always in tune.

So as we sang each prayer, in my mind's eye I saw him sitting or standing next to me, singing, and I just couldn't stop the tears. I desperately tried to hold them back by stuffing tissues in my eyes. That did't help much. Friends sitting next to me became concerned but I assured them I was all right. The struggle to appear okay was difficult. I eventually got some control but I felt worn out by the end of services. I couldn't wait to get home.

This is not the way to spend a Shabbat evening.  But this is proof that grieving has no timetable.

Copyright © 2018, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Saturday, January 6, 2018

My quiet village

I live in a very small, quiet village, replete with lots of silent time. And while I'm there, my thoughts  flood with memories of our life together. I first met Warren when I was sixteen and had so many freckles he thought I looked like Howdy Doody. Some will remember who that was. And then I didn't see him again for two years. I had changed considerably. After our first actual date, I remember coming home and telling a friend that Warren was the man I was going to marry. Our love affair lasted over 56 years!

I heard the song, Memories, written by Mack Davis and William Strange, the other day in the car. One line had me shaking my head in agreement and with tears streaming down my face: "And quiet nights and gentle days with you"...... a perfect description of much of our life together. The rest of the lyrics seem to describe what I'm going through now.

Oh yes, the pain is still there in my heart. It's just not screaming as loud (most of the time.) I'm remembering the quiet nights and gentle days more often.....and I smile. The memories engulf me like a cocoon and the quietness of reflecting makes me feel surrounded by his love.

Copyright © 2018, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Friday, December 29, 2017


Just for a second, he was there sitting in his chair in the living room, wearing a dark shirt. Just for a second. This was not the first time he appeared. The first time he was standing right next to me, in the bathroom looking in the mirror over the sinks and we were having a conversation. It took one, maybe two seconds and then I was back in my reality, kind of like an out of body experience.  I've never had experiences like that..... ever, not after any of my other family members have died.

Each instance left me with a kind of awe, a bit shaken but with a feeling of calmness and wonder. So the questions started. What did these mean?  Will they continue happening? I don't know the answers. What I do know is that I wasn't hallucinating. Of that I am very sure. I hope they continue.

Copyright © 2017, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Friday, December 1, 2017

A truce

Anguish, heartache and I are trying to come to a very tentative truce. Even after the months that have gone by, their effects haven't lessened very much and it's taken a toll on me physically and emotionally. So, I've read the books and the pamphlets. I've read and listened to the advice of friends and relatives. All were helpful. I'm even getting out of the house a bit more (other than grocery shopping.)

Since I'm now doing all the things that Warren used to do and taking care of the all the things he used to take care of, my 'conversations' with him have become more pointed. My mind races back to scenes of him doing those things and I find myself doing them exactly as he did.

The 'taking care of stuff' is a little different. He had expertise that I don't have in some of our personal affairs and so I'm trying to figure out just how to proceed in these matters. It's a daunting task even though I've reached out for help. What I've learned is from my gut and from remembering our past conversations: not to rush into anything and to take time before making any decisions. He would approve. Though the conversations seem to be one-sided, they are not. Remembering his good counsel is standing me in good stead.

And so I come to the truce. I'm trying to balance my reactions to my memories and tasks at hand and trying to make sure I find a way to live so that I remain healthy physically and emotionally in this new reality I'm living in. The anguish and heartache have not thrown up the white flag but it is within sight. And I'm reaching for it.

It looks like I'm taking baby steps but at least one foot is going in front of the other.

Copyright © 2017, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Sunday, November 19, 2017

I'm looking for tolerable days

The days are getting a bit more tolerable. The stages of grief are running their course with a few stumbles backward from time to time. There is no shame in those backward stumbles. They are a more direct and strong reminder of my loss.

The worst times are when I'm driving somewhere. I listen to music on Sirius radio and hear songs with lyrics that tear my heart out. And while I listen to the lyrics, I talk to him, using those words to tell him how much I miss him, how much he made me so happy, what a wonderful life we had together, how much I still love him and always will. And inevitably the tears flow. But by the time I get back home, I'm spent emotionally and that meltdown is over. After getting out all that devastating physical emotion, I'm okay for the rest of the day.....until bedtime.  Maybe I should try listening to an all instrumental station!

Bedtime. I send the doggies outside for one last time, turn off the TV, shut the kitchen lights, make sure the front door is locked, get the doggies in and shut the doggie door, lock the patio doors, turn on the alarm and head for the bedroom. The dogs are already on the bed, Snuggles in her favorite place...Warren's side of the bed laying right next to his pillow with her head touching it. Sterling is on my side of the bed watching everything I do.

This is the quiet time when my thoughts turn to the events that shattered my life. The tears roll as I try desperately to fill my mind with the good memories. It doesn't always work. The doggies inch closer and lick my hands, my arms, and my nose. They nuzzle me, calming me right down. As I softly say good night to him while gently rubbing his pillow, Snuggles and Sterling settle in right next to me, as if to keep me safe. They comfort me and keep me sane and make the days and nights a bit more tolerable.

 The days are going toward tolerable, inch by inch, a step at a time. Tolerable. That's what I'm striving for now.

Copyright © 2018, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Monday, November 13, 2017

Planning for the unveiling

It was a difficult day. Although there is no religious law requiring an unveiling, it is customary to have one. An unveiling is the time when the gravestone for a loved one has been set up at the grave and "unveiled" to family and friends, usually just before the time of the first anniversary of the date of death. Today was the day I began those preparations. No final decision will be made until our sons and I decide together what will be on the monument.

I had not been to the cemetery since the funeral. But today I found myself standing at his grave and I lost it. There was a small marker there with his name on it and I just lost it. I did manage to place a stone on the marker, touch his name with my fingertips and gasp at the intensity of my anguish.

It was a distressing, difficult day.

Copyright © 2017, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Thursday, November 9, 2017

What I'm learning

Some lovely, caring friends have been kind enough to provide a few books dealing with grief. One is aptly named LIVING WITH AN EMPTY CHAIR. Just the title says a lot for that's truly what I'm doing. But the empty chair allegory also means the empty side of the bed, the empty passenger seat in the car, the emptiness of his presence in the house. It's how I must now live. But the real empty chairs (one in the kitchen and one in the living room) still retain his aura. For me, I picture him sitting beside me at breakfast or snoozing in the recliner in the living room with Sterling snoozing on his
lap. And though those pictures in my mind are there every day, my heart doesn't always accept that it's pure illusion.

What I found comforting about some of the advice in that book was that there is no timetable. My grief has many faces, some very intense, some very subdued and quiet. And as time goes by, it waivers between the two. And I don't question or wonder whether I am really dealing with it. I am, in my own way and it will take as long as it takes, even if that's forever.

I've also read Sheryl Sandberg's OPTION B. She's the COO of Facebook who lost her husband very suddenly. Even though her circumstances were different, her devastation mirrors my own. She, like me, began writing. She calls it journaling, I call it blogging. We both acknowledge it as a compulsion.  Letting the words pour out of me allows me to give vent to the insanity, the anguish, the memories replete with humor, giggles, sweetness, loving and, yes, punning.

I have been deeply wounded but I am not beyond repair. While my loss is profound and sadness will always have a home in a part of my heart, my 'option B' is to look forward and find a way to walk down this road with lessening pain, even if it's tinged with a bit of guilt. I'm not walking this road alone. Our sons are walking with me, bringing me much strength, support and joy (they are so much like their dad.)

The wonderful, happy and funny memories of our life together are coming a bit more often and crowding out the sad ones. But my Beloved will always be by my side, sharing the memories and joining in the happiness I feel when I think of them.

Copyright © 2017, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Friday, November 3, 2017

A case for laughter

As I drive around doing various errands, my conversations continue, almost like a running commentary. The other day, however, out pops the question: "So, how are you doing?" I immediately repeated it in my head, not as a question but as an exclamation, thinking, "Oh boy, I've just gone over the edge. I'm losing it." But I can hear him laughing his head off at the absurdity of the remark! And I actually had a good laugh about it, too.

And then I think about all the times I loved hearing him laugh. He was an extraordinarily good punster and for over fifty years he had me laughing and, yes, groaning, at his 'gift' and he would laugh, smile and giggle at each one. He couldn't help it. The puns would come tumbling out in a nanosecond during conversations with just about everyone he met.

We laughed a lot during our life together. I mean A LOT!  There were so many times I laughed so much, I almost keeled over from losing my breath. He got a kick out of how long I could laugh at his puns and jokes. And even though I had heard many of his puns over and over, they would evoke my giggles and laughter every time.

When he smiled or laughed, his whole face lit up, and you could see the joy in his eyes. I'm so lucky and grateful that I have so many memories that I can call up in my mind's eye and immerse myself in those moments of pure joy. I can hear his laughter, I can see his smiles and I can feel a great warmth pouring over me when those moments crowd my mind.

Laughter is good medicine.

Copyright © 2017, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Saturday, October 28, 2017

So much hope, but........

We had so much hope, right to the end,
I did not think I would be saying goodbye,
Watching him go to that place
Where neither of us expected to be...

A final breath and then peace...for him
But not for me.
For me, the war began...
The war of words and thoughts,
The war of screams and anguish,
The war of heavy breathing, trying to catch my breath.

Even with time, the war rages on,
But the battles are fewer
And I am limping more slowly.

A quietness has descended
But the sorrow has not abated.
The heartache is still there
Just not as loud.

We talk in my mind
And that saves my sanity.
The memories flow in copious amounts
And I am thankful that there is an abundant supply.

I am adjusting, albeit unwillingly
But it goes slowly and
I prefer it that way.

Copyright © 2017, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Friday, October 13, 2017

Another phase......

I am turning inward. Even though I still talk to him out loud daily, many of my thoughts and comments just pass silently through my mind. Some of my 'thinking out loud' has become soft whispers in my head and those are occurring more often. While I have these conversations in my head, I take no action on conclusions that 'we' come up with.

I spend a lot of time alone even though I do see a few friends once in a while. The calls have mostly stopped and I don't initiate very many anymore. Thus I have more time for introspection. I feel as if I'm in suspended animation.... not really here.... or there, as if I'm traveling through each day in slow motion.  My inclination is to just be.......  I'm becoming comfortable with that.

My life has been smashed into a million little pieces that have flown in every direction with many so far away. Trying to gather them all is a Herculean job. I'm not sure I'm up to it or even want to try to put them back together. Maybe I'm hoping all those pieces will magically gather themselves up and come back to me.  

I have no illusions that this is not a particularly good way to be but it is, for me, at this time.

A  question: When (and/or if) the intense pain begins to lessen, will I feel a sense of guilt? Those of you who have gone down this road - Is there an answer?

Copyright © 2017, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Saturday, October 7, 2017

Reality yet? Um, no.

Nope. Not yet. It's clear to me that I haven't really accepted the reality. I cried out today in silence. Not a sound came out of my mouth as my chest heaved in pain and the tears flowed copiously down my cheeks. Not a sound, even as I gasped for breath. This happens every once in a while but today's episode was more crushing than before.

My mind's eye is doing a number on me.  Most times the images I 'see' bring a smile for the warm memories they invoke. It's the other times when those mental images bring a sadness that becomes more overwhelming because I can't actually share them with him. That's when the "oh gawd" refrain bursts from my mouth, followed by the silent "He's not here." Even then, I shake my head as if to shake that notion into oblivion.

It just still seems unreal. That 'someday' and 'time' I keep mentioning.... stills seems far into the future.

Copyright © 2017, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Thursday, September 28, 2017

The W word

I can't even conceive of me being categorized. I recently had to make a selection and automatically started to place the check mark on the box indicating married. Before I could actually put the pen to paper, I gagged when I saw the other box with the W word. In a matter of milliseconds the thoughts came crashing through my mind: That's not me. I can't be that now. I refuse to acknowledge that. Holy gawd, I'm not one of those.  Please, not yet.  A feeling of total despair washed over me. It was a visceral reaction.

I think as if we're still a couple. I suppose I do that because I continue to talk to him every day. Visions of my Beloved appear in my head as I see him walking around the house doing the things he used to do, sitting beside me when I eat breakfast or in the car, sitting in his favorite chair in the living room watching the Patriots and Mercury games. Yes, we're big fans!

I have photos of him everywhere so I can catch his twinkling eyes looking at me. Most of the time, not always, locking our eyes brings me a moment of peace. I savor those moments.

I say the Mourner's Kaddish every morning and then I look at his photo and think, "I shouldn't have to do this" because even though it is just me now, I still feel married. I think of myself as a married person, nothing else. I just don't feel the W word applies to me, not now, maybe not ever.

I'll always think of us as a couple, a continuing loving partnership, because he's always at my side and that's just they way it is.

Copyright © 2017, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, September 26, 2017

Grieving doesn't go away

I've recently had some not so bad days. Today wasn't one of them. I spent most of the morning  crying so hard, my chest literally hurt. The pain was sharp enough for me to take a baby aspirin. It started, as usual, while I was driving.  I cry out so loud I sometimes wonder if people driving beside me can hear me. I can't seem to get out of the chaos that envelopes my whole being.

I'm not looking for this chaos to stop any time soon. The way of grieving is such an individual thing. I suspect that these meltdowns will be with me for the rest of my life.  Maybe they won't occur as often....or maybe they will. I'll just have my bottle of aspirin handy and a lot of tissues.

Copyright © 2017, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Friday, September 15, 2017

Sometimes .......I just can't..........

Sometimes I just.........can'!

The void is huge. The realization overtakes me and it's like a blow to the head and I cry out at the top of my lungs. The tears are copious and I sometimes have to struggle to breathe. Too often it happens while I'm driving. That's not a good thing although I haven't had to pull over to the side of the road yet.  When it happens in the house, I scare the hell out of the doggies. But then they 'scooch' over to me and bury their heads in my chest. That calms me down. They are a lifeline for me.

I can go through some days in a fairly normal manner with just a few outbreaks of sadness. Then there are those other days. I suppose my road is not really different from the road others have taken in this situation.....and I understand that.  But I hate it, I just hate it.

These are strong feelings that get to me but I allow them to wash over me because if I don't I'll explode.

I haven't forgotten to laugh, though.  Friends call fairly often and there's always something to chuckle about in these conversations, especially when they bring up Warren's puns! And when they do, I picture his beautiful smile, his laughter and the twinkle in his eye.

I keep thinking what a blessing it was to have such an extraordinarily wonderful man living with me for almost 51 years. But I wanted much more time. So sometimes I just..........can'

I'm dealing with it........badly perhaps........but I'm doing the best I can.  Everyone says ...... TIME.  It's going to take a lot of time, a whole lot of time for me.........if ever.

Copyright © 2017, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Friday, September 8, 2017

Some random observations

Sadness plays games with me.  Sometimes it really shows its face and sometimes it's pretty well hidden, lurking under the surface but it's always there. I'm thinking it will never really go away.  The mantra running through my mind is that I will never get over losing my Beloved but I'll learn how to live with it. It's the act of learning that is so damn difficult.

Some days are better than others. I can go about three hours without being brought up short with a flood of memories rushing through my mind. Sometimes those memories are comforting and sometimes they fill me with anguish. I try really hard to concentrate on the wonderful and funny  memories and when I do, I can hear him chuckling and reminiscing with me.

I don't feel comfortable like I did before. His arms are no longer around me and I remember how much he made me feel calm and comforted in times of stress or worry. So now I worry on my own and it's a little like walking on 12 foot high stilts through a gravel pit!

I look around the house and see all the 'stuff' we collected, all the things that made the house uniquely ours. Now, the only things I treasure are the photos, the thousands of photos. And the doggies, my constant, loving companions.

I used to love to drive. I don't much like it anymore because he's not there. We were such a team, always going places together, conversing about a variety of things and laughing as we traveled. I was a captive to his constant punning and no matter how many times I heard those puns, I always ended up giggling.

 I'm still talking to him every day. The words just pop out of my mouth. I discuss sports: the Red Sox and the Phoenix Mercury and how they're doing. Now it's football season and I'll wrap myself in his Patriots blanket as I watch the games and I'll hear him dissect the plays every once in a while. The one saving grace is when I talk to him, it's in private. Public muttering to oneself is probably frowned on!

My days of being busy with finishing up estate details and all that that entails are winding down.  Each step of the way, I asked him if I was making the right decisions. I could hear him, in my mind, affirming those decisions. I guess that comes with how closely we worked together in the office. I learned a thing or two from the best.

Family has been extremely important during this nightmare. They are the glue that has held me together. What I find a bit amazing is the continuing contact from friends through emails and telephone calls. People actually are still checking in with me to see how I am, touching base with me. I'm very grateful for this and delight in these calls and emails.

Life goes on, as they say, but it's a different life. My Beloved may not be physically here, but he's always with me in my heart, in my mind and sometimes there is a tangible reminder that he's sticking around. And that's a good thing.

Copyright © 2017, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Friday, August 18, 2017

Our doggies feel his absence, too.

We moved to Arizona with Snuggles, our little, adorable rescue pup. Five months later we added another rescue pup, Sterling, because we thought Snuggles should have a friend to grow up with. They both are about the same age.

Sterling became very attached to my husband and the two were just about inseparable. So, during his illness, Sterling knew something was wrong. He'd sit on his lap and put his paws on the affected area and he would just stare into Warren's eyes.

During the last several weeks, it's been sad watching the doggies look for him.  They go to the rooms where he spent some of his time and look around almost every day.  They sleep on his side of the bed. I placed a towel that he had used (and I didn't wash) on his pillow and the doggies sleep on it. Sterling now follows me everywhere I go, even if it's just a change of a few feet. When I leave the house, he barks and cries and Snuggles just looks at me with a very concerned look on her face. I tell them that I'll be back and that sometimes seems to calm them down.

For the first several weeks, Sterling exhibited definite signs of depression. He wouldn't eat, he would just sit with his head drooping, he would sigh as he lay on the sofa. Snuggles sighs quite loudly and her eyes follow me as I go about the house. When I'm at my computer, she's right at my elbow, always. And so I've lavished an enormous amount of cuddling, hugging, kissing and just loving both of them. Even when my son's dog comes over he knows someone is missing. He, too keeps looking for him.

The looks on the doggies faces have changed. There is a sadness in their eyes, especially when they look at me when I'm having one of my meltdown episodes and when we settle in bed at night.  They crawl right up to my face and stare... I think just to make sure I'm all right.  I cuddle with them, hug them, stroke their heads and tell them I love them.  Doing that makes me feel better and they seem to love that.

I'm thankful that I have them. They provide a lot of love and emotional support and comfort. I hope I do the same for them.

Copyright © 2017, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, August 15, 2017

Sleep is elusive

Getting a decent night's sleep has eluded me.  It doesn't matter what time I go to bed, sleeping through the night has become elusive. Night after night, my eyes pop open at two, three or four o'clock, I get  up, wander around a bit, try going back to bed hoping sleep will come again. Sometimes it does, for a little while, sometimes I remain up for whatever is left of the overnight hours.

Once in a while I wander into the living room, settle on the sofa and read a bit from a book I've started. Occasionally, the reading sessions last until sunrise.

None of this surprises me. This problem started several months ago and has only escalated recently. There have been some nights when I've managed to sleep almost all night but those are few and far between. But there are days when I find myself napping so I guess sleep comes when it's really needed.

While I'm up in the wee hours, my memories of our life together surface and I spend time remembering so many happy, wonderful things. I remind myself how lucky we were that we had each other for over fifty years.  If my sleepless nights are filled with loving memories, it's a good price to pay.

Copyright © 2017, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Friday, August 4, 2017

The meltdowns

It's Friday night, Shabbat. I'm hoping to feel a modicum of peace but it doesn't come.  The meltdowns are coming more often and I think I know why.  The days and nights are getting lonelier. A few friends still call. The inquiring emails have trickled down to almost non-existent.

Being alone is affecting me badly. I was almost never alone before. We were such a team for so long, comfortable in our togetherness, always doing something as a duo. Now the 'aloneness' is so difficult. The quietness gives me too much time to think of the loss. The anguish is still so raw.

Time is going by but I'm not yet getting used to this different kind of life I now lead. I hate it. I simply hate it with a passion. I rage against it. Sometimes I scare the doggies with my outbursts. But bless these two beautiful little creatures. When I am almost out of control, they come to me and nuzzle me. They look at me with eyes of concern and then they lick my nose, my fingers, my arms and, yes, that calms me down.  I'm thankful they are with me.

What a different world it is now for me. It is filled with tears that I can't control. I give into them easily. Maybe someday the meltdowns will subside.  Maybe someday.......

Copyright © 2017, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Monday, July 31, 2017

An unpleasant task

Shopping has become a distasteful chore.  I haven't done much of it for the last several weeks so I  ventured out today to get some stuff I actually needed. I was in a drug store and walked down the greeting card aisle on my way to another part of the store. I slowed down and physically caught my breath as  I silently thought,"I won't be buying him cards any more."  I was breathing hard and choking as I left the aisle.  I made a quick purchase and left the store.  I went to another store and as I went through some aisles the same thought popped into my head: Look at all the things I won't be purchasing anymore because they were his favorites.

It's disconcerting to realize the small ways my life is changing. I've had a lot of very good advice from friends, some who have walked down this road I'm now on and others who want to do anything they can to help soothe my heart. Nothing has quite worked yet and so I realize this is going to be a very long and winding road and a difficult process.

Gawd, I hate going through this but strangely (or maybe not so strange) I feel as if I have an arm around my shoulders gently guiding me down this road.

Copyright © 2017, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, July 26, 2017

Reflecting on the Ribbon

The Shloshim period ended a few days ago.  In Judaism, Shloshim is the period of thirty days of deep mourning following a death.  As I unpinned the black ribbon from my chest for the last time, I looked at it, ran my fingers over it, held it against my heart and reflected on its visual meaning to me. It gave me a sense of honoring my beloved's memory, a tangible marker of who my family has lost. For a fleeting few moments, I wanted to continue to wear the ribbon indefinitely.  Instead, I held it to my lips, memories flooding into my mind's eye and unbearable sadness racing through my heart. Then I quietly put it into a drawer for safekeeping.

Mentally, I will wear that ribbon forever.

Copyright © 2017, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, July 25, 2017

Sometimes the silence is deafening

I sit at the table, eating breakfast and reading the newspaper. And when I'm done, I just sit, stare out the window and know that the silence is deafening. Sometimes I talk to him, my beloved,  and sometimes I can hear his replies in my mind. And yes, the tears begin to flow and I let them dribble down my face, onto my shirt and lap.

I hear the silence throughout the day. It is a constant reminder of the immense anguish I still feel. I don't imagine this will go away any time soon.

I fill the days with tasks that have to get done but very often I'll stop what I'm doing, look at the photo and feel his presence. The photo was recently sent to me by a cousin (bless her!) It's a closeup of the two of us and when I look at it, he's looking directly into my eyes. As I stare back, it gives me a small sense of comfort and a bit of peace. And, yes, I talk to him as I gaze directly back at him.

The anguish is raw, the silence is deafening, the heartache and pain are real.That's just the way it is right now. I don't wonder how long it will take for all that to lessen. I don't care. I think those feelings will always be part of my life and  I'm okay with that. I'm learning to live with what is even though it's a very difficult lesson to learn.

Time will heal? Perhaps...... Perhaps........

Copyright © 2017, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Sunday, July 9, 2017

The Question

"How are you doing?"  It seems to be the standard question, the first question I'm asked. People are kind and concerned about me right now, those who reach out.  I answer with the usual, almost expected response. "I'm okay."  Okay means I'm managing adequately, I guess.  But that's only partly true.  There are times when I'm barely okay.  To all outward appearances I function normally. I pick up my newspaper in the driveway each morning to read with breakfast.  I go through the day doing things that now HAVE to get done quickly. I pick up a few grocery items.

The life I was living before has changed and so I've changed.  I go through days perfunctorily.  Reality slides in and out. There are times when I just can't wrap my head around what's happened. But those times when I fully understand the blow dealt to my sons and me, I am NOT okay.  I am assuming those times will begin to recede.  In the meantime, the struggle with reality continues, to be replaced by an acceptance not easily welcomed.

The one thing I'm very sure of is the strength I get from the incredible love of my sons, my family and close friends. That is what keeps me from falling into a place I don't want to go and where my Love knows I needn't be.

So, am I okay?  Like a weather forecast,  it will be a bit cloudy for the next several weeks with a good chance of sunshine breaking through after that.

Copyright © 2017, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Friday, June 30, 2017

I whisper

I have begun to whisper, softly at first, then a bit louder so that I appear to be talking to myself. And I am indeed, although it doesn't feel like that to me.

The crowd has gone and I am now left with the solitude. As I go about the daily act of living, everything has changed.  Yet, I don't actually see the change because I whisper to him all the time.  He is there, in a faint outline sitting in his chair, in a feeling I get as I walk through the home we shared, in responses to my musings as I go through the day.

Conversations continue and they don't seem to be one-sided.  I can hear, in my mind, his comments, observations, and repartees because we knew each other so well.  I wouldn't mind if this occurrence continued forever.  It brings comfort to a very broken heart.

His presence is very powerful right now.  It may dissipate somewhat in time but our connection is....was so strong, I know he'll always be there, by my side, whispering in my ear as I whisper back.

Copyright © 2017, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Sunday, June 4, 2017

Where is the repair kit?

The name of this blog is  LIFE IS MORE THAN SOUND BITES.  Here's a sound bite:  CANCER SUCKS!   My heart is breaking, piece by piece, and I can't find the repair kit. Hopelessness has snuck in where hopefulness has been residing for many months. It doesn't stay too long. I won't let it but it does get in every once in a while.

We have been married for almost 51 years.  It's not long enough. We promised each other that we would grow old together.  We still need to grow much older.  On this journey that has been thrust upon us, we have found unknown depths of strength and hope and positivity rising up through the veil of anguish, fear and anger.

I hang my hope on what might be termed "inner strength" to will an  outcome that will crush, once and for all, the cancer that has invaded our lives.  I scream in the car and rail against the circumstances we find ourselves in.  The tears flow now and again, just not where they can be seen.  It's the only release I have.

There are so many different days we are living through: days of hope when things seem to be going okay, days of doubt when something new or unexpected pops up, days of calm when things have remained the same, days of anger when too many ugly thoughts invade my mind.  The yoyo of emotions plays on and on.  Nevertheless, hope springs eternal and that is something we will never give up.  We are sustained by the love and support of family and by those friends who have remained in contact.  And even though I'm not much of a god person, I am extremely grateful for all the prayers, mishaberahs, rosaries and supportive thoughts and actions coming our way.  This kind of a circle of support helps immensely, calming our minds and hearts.

HOPE and OPTIMISM continue to be the words we live by. There is no other alternative.

Cancer: the scourge of humanity. May it rot in Hell.

Copyright © 2017, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Sunday, April 23, 2017

Why I've been quiet...

I haven't written a blog post for several months because my mind has been engaged in more serious matters.  Without going into specifics, I've become a 'helper', putting my heart, my soul and my mind into it with the hope that this road I'm on will lead to a happy destination.

As a result, I've tried to limit the attention I used to pay to the horrible things trump and his minions have done, are doing and will do to destroy the United States and all she has stood for.  I keep up with the 'news' quickly and fleetingly and then my attention is quickly diverted to more important, immediate things.

It's a fine line I walk right now but one I willingly traverse and am totally committed to seeing it through to it's happy conclusion.

Life doesn't always go the way you plan or expect it to. But you always have a choice about how you view the circumstances that are dealt to you.  I choose to have an absolutely positive, uncompromising and confident attitude that I know, without a doubt, will bring the desired outcome.  And when that time comes, and it will, I won't have to write about it. You will hear me shouting my joy and happiness as if I was standing right next to you.

I'll be back to this space from time to time.  Writing here affords me some quiet and reflective time. That's something we all need.

Copyright © 2017, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, January 10, 2017

Nightmares - Trump style

Nightmares are a funny thing. I don't mean in a "giggle" kind of way.  Nightmares can be terrifying. In my lifetime, I've had a few and they occurred when I was an adult. None of them lasted long enough for me to remember them with any clarity.

However, in the last few weeks I've had recurring nightmares about Trump. Each time I've had one, it lasted much more than a fleeting few seconds, more like a few hours. And it caused me to actually wake up, get out of bed and walk around the house to try to calm down. I would venture to say that I'm not the only one experiencing this.

Donald Trump is, indeed, a nightmare. He has the vocabulary of a three year old, the attention span of a flea, the vindictiveness of Idi Amin, the traits of Adolph Hitler, and the 'sophistication' of a gutter rat.  He exhibits no intellect, no compassion, no humaneness, no understanding of the Constitution or the laws of the United States.

He only understands MONEY.  He claims he knows lots of words but MONEY is the only one he cares about.  His 'brain' cannot accept reality so he lives in his own lying world of deceptiveness, double dealing and hypocrisy.

He's appointed people to his Cabinet who have no experience for the positions or who have nothing but disdain for those departments. They will decimate every Cabinet department to the point where they will be useless. Republican vengeance against all the Democrats have accomplished will render this country ineffectual and akin to a third world country where women, LBGTQ, the poor and working class, Blacks, Latinos, the disabled and non-Christians are relegated to second, third or fourth class status.

Trump's presidency will be riddled with corruption, idiocy, and reprisal against his perceived enemies. He's already labeled those who voted against him as his enemies.

What could go wrong with a great country being led by a racist, misogynistic, bigoted, wage-stiffing, intellectually-deficient, money-grubbing, pussy-grabbing, thin-skinned business failure who would rather whine like a brat while he Tweets!

So, do I have reason to have these nightmares?

Friday, December 9, 2016

I could turn myself inside out.........

With all the crazy things going on in this country I could turn myself inside out with anguish, frustration, irritation, disappointment, etc.  Instead, I'm going to take a step back and watch while the morons in Congress (mostly the GOP) continue to show their incredible stupidity, brainlessness, idiocy, ineptitude, and lunacy and hope that they all sink in a huge lake of their own poop, waste, refuse, detritus, scum, trash, dregs and dross.

If I could just understand how those who say they're conservative and are looking for government to be kept out of our lives reconcile the Republican stance on transvaginal probes into a woman's vagina, pushing a Christian religious agenda that seems totally contrary to their so-called Christian values and faith in a country that is supposed to be free from one religion being established through legislation, denying voting rights to so many who have legally voted for decades, shoving millions of dollars into corporation coffers while pulling tons of money from the mouths of children.

Now that the least qualified individual ever to run for the highest political office of this country rigged the election so he could be president, the more than 65 million of us who didn't vote for him but gave our love and vote to oh-so-qualified Hillary Clinton will now have to stand back and watch this racist, bigoted, misogynistic egomaniac ruin the country with his inability to understand what the job entails, his fascist tendencies, his illusions of being 'king', his stacking his cabinet with people who have no experience and actually dislike the departments they're supposed to head. Ah, but they have donated to his foundation or otherwise sent money his way so Cabinet jobs can be bought.  I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to use the US Treasury as his personal bank. Donald J. Trump is the sleaziest, most corrupt, uneducated, two-faced, profiteering mercenary ever to run and win the office.

His avarice, stinginess and unscrupulousness is legion.  So, as I watch what will unfold, I cry inwardly for the damage he will do to the people who are not rich, White and mostly male. We will become a third class country, the laughingstock of the world, and so many of the people who voted for him will watch in horror as he goes back on every promise he made to them and screws them out of their Social Security, Medicare, health insurance, voting rights, and a whole host of other rights they thought were guaranteed by the Constitution.

My fervent wish is that Trump is in for only one term OR less and that his whole Cabinet and everyone around him gets prosecuted for massive wrongdoing as soon as possible.

Monday, November 21, 2016

Dear Jared Kushner

Dear Jared Kushner:

I read your letter stating that your father-in-law, Donald Trump, is not anti-semitic or a racist. You are wrong. You see him from a very narrow perspective.  You see him as your wife's father, your kids' grandfather and the guy who came to your wedding.  And when he looks at you he sees a rich, White, good looking individual who happens to be a Jew so you're good with money.  You fit into his compartments nicely.

What the world sees, however, is an extremely boorish, loudmouth who denigrates so many different types of people including, of course, Jews. And he has surrounded himself with people who are obviously anti-semitic. There is no denying that.

Your family background is gripping but that doesn't make you an expert on who is or is not an anti-semite.  Words matter. Actions matter. Decisions matter. Acquiescence in the face of blatant anti-semitism is hard to ignore. That's what you seem to be doing.  You describe him as  being loving and tolerant. Where was his tolerance for a disabled reporter? Or for people who genuinely disagreed with him?  Yes, he is tolerant, for those who decry the Jewish people, Blacks, women, feminists, Latinos, Muslims, Gold Star families.

There are many questionable qualities your father-in-law has and concern for others is not one of them. He is not humane, except for his own tight little family. Anti-semitic? Yes. He has appointed the vilest of people to be in his inner circle. Anti-semitic is just one of the horrendous qualities he has displayed.  Open your eyes. He is not who you think you see. And the world knows and understands this.

This is the article I was responding to:

Sunday, November 13, 2016

I am done, for now!

Okay, I'm done with the whole crappy mess.  The damage is done. And it is damage. The Republicans tore our country apart, piece by piece. They're very good at it. And if you think I'm being partisan here, I don't give a crap.  They went LOW.  No matter how you feel on each side, there is no doubt that the Republican mind is filled with racist, bigoted, misogynistic, convoluted thinking that hatred of Muslims, Blacks, Latinos, the growing LBGTQ community, Jews, women, the old and infirm is normal. Why else would the vitriolic epithets hurled at all these groups come so readily to the lips of so many GOP (read 'Trump') supporters?

If you think we should give the guy a chance, I'm not anywhere near ready. Again, the damage has been done. The outright lies, the obvious lack of intelligence, the stirring up of hatred, the complete putdown of so many, the snide remarks resulting in his opponent being marked for physical jeopardy (don't think that wasn't meant), the secretiveness, the refusal to show his tax returns, the myriad of lawsuits, his vile language and actions with and toward women. Vilifying your opponent with lies (and she has been vilified for decades because she is a woman) just cements the pettiness and viciousness with which Trump will always be known.  He is a piece of work and it's not good.

Both candidates have flaws. But some flaws are WAY OVER THE TOP.  When you run for the highest office in the land, you don't go for the miserly, boorish, garish, uneducated, least ever qualified or fit for the job, who thinks it's okay to stiff people who work for you and bankruptcies are good business practice as long as he doesn't lose any money.  You go for the most qualified, educated, intelligent person who has a proven dedicated life of service to so many others; who has a wealth of experience dealing with those who were across the aisle in Congress, world leaders and whose foundation has helped millions around the world.

Planning to dismantle all the good that President Obama accomplished during eight years of the most vitriolic assaults on his (and his whole family's) character while stifling his ability to  move this country toward a more humane and good world, is the proof that the GOP doesn't give a damn about most Americans, only their religious, bigoted and uneducated agenda and their desire to take away so many rights that Americans hold dear.

I don't tolerate unbelievable stupidity well at all. The next four years will be filled with that, I fear. An ignoramus doesn't become a genius. Trump will remain what he is: a self-centered, power-grabbing, money-grubbing zhlob (isn't Yiddish terrific?) surrounded by people (mostly men) who have designs to make this country what it was back when White men were the only ones who mattered.  This does not bode well for so many and I cry when I anticipate the damage that will be done.

But, it is what it is. I will do whatever I am able to do to combat the stupidity and hatefulness by speaking out or writing about it or signing petitions or whatever I can do. I am encouraged by all the people who want something better for this country than what will be offered for the next four years. And no matter how much damage the Republicans will inflict on us, it will be undone in years to come.  

Saturday, October 29, 2016

What do you do in the wee small hours?

In the wee small hours of the morning, when I find it difficult to sleep, I rise from bed and tiptoe into the living room, tap the base of a small lamp, pick up the book  I'm in the middle of reading, settle into the rocking chair and immerse myself in a different world.  It's during these times that worries retreat to a faraway place, so far away that when my eyelids finally start drifting downward, my only thought is to get back to bed before I fall on the sofa fast asleep.

These kind of nights have started to happen a bit more frequently of late. To what do I attribute these sleepless episodes? I'm at a place and age in my life where worrying seems to be walking toward center stage.  My life has been an extraordinary ride, full of excitement, wonder, good times, good health, lots of laughter and much happiness... intermingled with those times that are filled with sadness that happen to everyone.

So, during some of those wee small hours, the book gets put aside and I start talking with myself, having a two-way conversation, you know..... one of those "On the one hand....", then "On the other hand...."  Sometimes those conversations take me all over the place, sometimes they stay right on point, on one particular area of worry.  I've yet to come up with any perfect solutions or clear cut answers to the myriad of questions these conversations raise.  But sometimes, once in a while, the conversation crystalizes enough for me to tap the worry down a bit and convince myself that I or we will get through whatever it is that has to be tackled.  Somewhere, deep down, strength seems to wend its way to the fore, clear my head at least for a while and I feel once again in command.

Wherever I got that strength from I am thankful that so far it has appeared when I need it the most.

So, what do you do in the wee small hours?

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

A response to an Arizona Republic article

I'm posting this as a blog so more people will read it.

After reading a column by a local reporter in the AZ Republic this morning, I wrote him the following email:

Mr. Goodykoontz:
Once upon a time, honesty and fairness were considered virtues. Today’s mass media have thrown them out and replaced them with the abdication of all pretense of responsible reporting. Donald Trump and the GOP get to say whatever they want, lying through their teeth with savage, vitriolic words slithering out of their mouths and the media lets all of it slide. The lies are left to boil in the cesspool of public thought, unchecked by the Fourth Estate which silently condones them by their silence and inattention. But, should Secretary Clinton say or do anything about calling out the abominable behavior of Mr. Trump or his supporters, she is pilloried, drawn and quartered by the media. Journalistic ethics have been thrown out the window in favor of creating controversy for the corporate heads who see these tactics as a stream of money for selling more papers, attracting more viewers and listeners and generating more and more profits. As corporate entities own all the media and most big companies lean Republican, it’s easy to see that bias also plays a huge part in what gets reported and how it’s reported.
The media have abdicated their prime responsibility, to present the truth. Your question at the end of your column today: Will the media recover? is easily answered. No, it will not because until profit is taken out of the equation, pandering to a gullible public who eats up controversy and accepts lies as truth will be seen as a money-maker and that, above all, drives the news business today.


Reisa Miller

Wednesday, August 31, 2016

That DASH is not some esoteric concept

I haven't written a blog entry since May.  That's the month when life as we knew it came to a screeching halt. And in the ensuing time, that Dash concept or idea has occupied my thoughts sporadically, at least a few times each week.

The Dash: that imaginary line from the beginning of one's life -------------------- to the end. The Dash: to be filled with all the things that make life worth living: all the actions, reactions, the good, bad and ugly, the positives, the negatives, the learning, the understanding, the caring, the striving, the loving, the uniqueness........ the laughter, the tears.

The Dash: It's a finite length of time, unknown to us as to the length of our own Dash but hoping it will be a long one.  For too many, it's unbearably short.  But even if it isn't, we all think that Dash could go on forever.

Personally, the Dash is now playing a more important role in the life of someone I love. And when the looming fact that the Dash is possibly heading toward its finale, we do everything in our power to prolong it, to coax it, to coerce it, to push it ever onward so that the end is totally out of sight, even if that means draining every resource you have, seeking out every possibility on the face of the earth to make that Dash continue long into the future.  It's a daunting task to ferociously seek out ways to lengthen the Dash but finding strength in a situation like this is not hard.  It is what we do, we humans, who love so deeply that we'll relentlessly find a way to make the Dash continue through its long and winding road.

So, to those of you who understand what the Dash is all about, make sure the space that it takes up is lived to the fullest, with the most happiness, good deeds, good words, humaneness, kindness, good intentions and always, always, lots of giggles.

Copyright © 2016, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved