He loved the color green.
He loved the smell of vanilla.
He loved vanilla ice cream.
He loved hot white chocolate.
He loved the fresh powdered snow.
He loved the cold.
He loved that his Mum came to South Carolina.
He loved that he saw his family in the UK.
He loved his Mum.
He loved his Dad....
He loved his sisters.
He loved his brothers.
He loved his nieces and nephews.
He loved scrambled eggs and wheat toast.
He loved my family.
He loved macadamia nut and white chocolate cookies.
He loved Durjay.
He loved Yasmin.
He loved Bello.
He loved a good Merlot.
He loved to laugh outloud.
He loved solving work problems.
He loved medium rare steaks.
He loved Crest toothpaste.
He loved to say Hanukkah Hanukkah.
He loved Carrot Cake.
He loved watching his Magnolia Tree grow.
He loved that he looked like Niyi.
He loved down feather pillows.
He loved to learn.
He loved playing Yahtzee and Rummikub.
He loved cutting his own hair.
He loved to snorkel.
He loved the microwave.
He loved his rubber yard boots.
He loved my turkey stuffing.
He loved working in his PJ bottoms.
He loved to snow ski.
He loved my long hair.
He loved fried plantains.
He loved Tiger Woods game.
He loved his work and coworkers.
He loved Sci-Fi.
He loved for me to clip his nails.
He loved to swim.
He loved bowling with me on Wii.
He loved listening to jazz.
He loved Sierra Mist Soda.
He loved stepping on the back of his house shoes.
He loved sleeping in.
He loved Keri Lotion.
He loved being modest.
He loved finding new places to eat.
He loved when he saved a buck.
He loved Reality TV.
He loved Salsa dancing.
He loved Riley and Pookie.
He loved American Cheeseburgers.
He loved the Cinema Theater.
He loved chasing me about the house.
He loved my Potato Salad.
He loved to make me laugh.
He loved to go to the driving range.
He loved getting calls from his family.
He loved long car drives.
He loved celebrating his birthday.
He loved soft clothes.
He loved his remote control airplane.
He loved to golf.
He loved the nickname Pinhead.
He loved calling me Dingo, Sugar Plum and Lovely.
He loved himself.
He loved me.
What a lovely list, Oluwa. The last two emtries being the absolute most important.
He sounds like a very lovable person.
I may have been dealt a bad hand, but at least I'm still playing with a full deck. ( most of the time anyway).
Bola's loves could go on forever...Bola's dislikes list is so, so, much shorter. Bola is loved and missed by me. My heart has been heavy.
I realized today, I think the 'anxiety' I have is actually attacks of a heavy saddened heart. Today, the heaviness... it would tip the scale to the floor and there is not enough Kettle Bells in the world to tilt it the other way.
I have been calling Jack, Riley and when I look down I expect it to be Riley. It is the weirdest thing...to have one foot in today and the other is yesterday.
OMG!!! I LOVE YOU "SUNSHINE"! I LOVE the list and so would your Bola...He sounds as BEAUTIFUL as YOU ARE DEAR FRIEND...What a WONDERFUL thing to post...SO SORRY for your PAIN....I CANT say IT enough (as YOU KNOW) LOL...Maybe there is a bit of RILEY in YOUR JACK....Maybe subconciously YOU FEEL THAT...Not so weird at all...Hes your FURRY BABY, as all 3 of them are.....In death as well..It doesnt make you stop being a MOMMY to them... Their spirits are FOREVER WITH YOU....LOVE and ADORE YOU BEAUTIUFUL......
Grief is like recycling..they said it resurfaces. Books, people and my own heart. Recycling to me means, there is no schedule, there are no sequences and it repeats itself and remakes itself, over and over into something new, something old, something used. Liken it to, I was a rubber tree on January 5th and on January 6th I became a byproduct of its many uses and when it is used it is remade and used again..repeating the cycle over and over. I wonder what becomes when the plastic, the latex can not be reused anymore. Its uses have exhausted...what becomes of me? Eventually 'I' will disappear and become dirt?
Yesterday was our wedding anniversary....I didn’t miss you more, or less, Bola. I will always miss you deeply. Love you deeply. I looked at your picture and I still don’t believe you are gone. I cried. Not like a lost wailing baby seal, fragile, frighten in a new world like I use to but that of a woman with such, such…such grief and sadness.
Saw Nancy yesterday, who helps me with pharmaceuticals to with deal with my new found anxiety after Bola died and I asked her is there any hope for any drug to work? EMDR she suggested and to continue with my drug regimen. I will seek that out on Monday.
I wish I could find that part of my personality, who I was before...who was not afraid to be out in life alone, crowds and walk through life with trust, with intuition....and now I feel I have none of these. Maybe I am stuck in grief. Logically I know Bola has died but to really believe with all my heart, it is like a dream, unbelievable. When I look at his picture, something inside me feels I can't accept it. I am afraid to really, really feel it. I have always felt my heart has its own entity. Perhaps, I need to find ways for my heart to accept he is really dead.
My heart feels broken, but I don't know how to gather the pieces to put it back together. Together in some form at least so it beats with thoughts of the future being bright and without thoughts of why, what for and fright. To feel something other than it being fragmented in a pile riddled with pain. How does one gather the pieces that have been so dispersed over and over, through Bola's death, my dear Auntie and my two pets in the same year? How can a heart break so many times without losing a lot of the pieces? Not only did I lose all of them to death, but I also lost those living, some of my family because of their behavior.
Bola died in such a horrible way, the things that happened to his body which the medical examiner reported and what the witnesses told me I create an image in my mind as it is very vivid imagination, with great detail. And being a person with such great empathy, I hurt for Bola. And when he died it was not my life that flashed before my eyes, or my future...it was all what Bola would miss. His future. Then I felt guilty and at times still do for any little disagreement we had. Though I know, it is called just living life. I feel like how could I have wasted any of his precious life, even one nano second over anything when I read the accident report, age 38 (so, so young)...name not released because next of kin has not been notified.
Maybe I feel guilty for not being able to help him, to bring him back to life while he hung out of the door from the SUV... strapped in because of the seat belt and the door was mangled open. Dangling outside the SUV on a freeway, as people looked, gawked, passed by while I was sleeping, where was I. I don't even remember what I was doing at 8:26AM. I did not feel his death at 8:26AM..I think that happens rarely.
Maybe I am angry because though they said he died instantly, why did no one perform CPR? And I know, even if they had he would not come back from the injuries he sustained. And to be told by the time they, the medics arrived he had bled out and there was nothing they could do.
Maybe I am still somehow in shock, denial, PTSD because of how I found out...via the Internet or because of the report, photos, because of the things the investigators, the examiners spoke and wrote of or the lack of family supporting me.
I know all this intellectually and that it can be/is the contributing factor to my anxiety but nevertheless it still rages on. I know the strength of who I was has gotten me this far, but have I really gotten far? I think the girl, me from January 5th, her strength is petering out and that is why I flounder now into the person who was changed forever on January 6th.
People think the worst part of a death is the day knowing, finding out, but I think it is the following day and wakening up to it, whether after a sleep or a long night and seeing the sun rise. I think it is the worst because you realize they never came home last night and may not ever...I say may not because one is in disbelief, then all the ifs and whys filter through as fright settles in.
I hope the weight of despair finds its way back to being a word defined in the Webster dictionary and nothing that I will know personally anymore. One day. If not, tomorrow or perhaps the next..until then I will try to keep my thought busy with mindless games on the Net, playing with Jack, wiping my kitchen down over and over and playing loud music while dancing in my own arms. Imagining.
I have Lupus. So *^#@! what.
Hi, I too lost my husband in a plane crash in 2006. I don't know if you have read it but, Widow to Widow is a great book, it really helped me. Take care
Shanna..I am sorry you know of such a loss too. My heart has great empathy for you. Head hugs. Be well..O.
I have Lupus. So *^#@! what.
My Daddy died 11:55PM EST December 1, 2013. I can't believe he is gone too. I am in disbelief....I love my Daddy.
I have Lupus. So *^#@! what.
Hug my friend, I grieve with you.