Friday, January 8, 2021
Friday, October 11, 2019
musing
Musing.
Those of you who follow my photos will remember my son Andrew lived for 55 days. During these 55 days, I share with two group, the Sands Group and Campomelic Group. With these groups, it is the birds of the same feather flock. 'I also blog. I try not to post too much about Andrew.
However, I believe that this is my page and I post what I like. Sure that this is happening, I went to find another blog post about Cherry blossom trees, and an American blogger had commented on her son's grave, and that was 2010. I went to her blog and saw her pansies. Seems we are connected. I saw the pansies at the same park as the Cherry blossoms.
Those of you who follow my photos will remember my son Andrew lived for 55 days. During these 55 days, I share with two group, the Sands Group and Campomelic Group. With these groups, it is the birds of the same feather flock. 'I also blog. I try not to post too much about Andrew.
However, I believe that this is my page and I post what I like. Sure that this is happening, I went to find another blog post about Cherry blossom trees, and an American blogger had commented on her son's grave, and that was 2010. I went to her blog and saw her pansies. Seems we are connected. I saw the pansies at the same park as the Cherry blossoms.
Thursday, October 10, 2019
Needy people
China celebreted her 70 National anniversary. The amount they spent, they could feed so many needy people,
During my trips to China, I saw needy people.
I
was so impressed with him. I went back to talk to him, his name is Mu
Yik Yang. He couldn't use his leg and turned his interest into writing.
He comes from Hunan. A skill like him should be National hero instead of
begging.
Thursday, September 26, 2019
a bereaved wish
A Bereaved Parent's Wish List
I wish my child hadn't died. I wish I had him back
I wish you wouldn't be afraid to speak my child's name. My child lived and was very important to me. I need to hear that he was important to you as well.
If I cry and get emotional when you talk about my child, I wish you knew that it isn't because you have hurt me. My child's death is the cause of my tears. You have talked about my child, and you have allowed me to share my grief. I thank you for both.
I wish you wouldn't "kill" my child again by removing his pictures, artwork, or other remembrances from your home.
Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn't shy away from me. I need you more than ever.
I need diversions, so I do want to hear about you; but I also want you to hear about me. I might be said and I might cry, but I wish you would let me talk about my child, my favorite topic of the day.
I know that you think of and pray for me often. I also know that my child's death pains you, too. I wish you would let me know things through a phone call, a card or a note, or a real big hug.
I wish you wouldn't expect my grief to be over in six months. These first months are traumatic for me, but I wish you could understand that my grief will never be over. I will suffer the death of my child until the day I die.
I am working very hard in my recovery, but I wish you could understand that I will never fully recover. I will always miss my child, and I will always grieve that he is dead.
I wish you wouldn't expect me "not to think about it" or to "be happy". Neither will happen for a very long time so don't frustrate yourself.
I don't want to have a "pity party," but I do wish you would let me grieve. I must hurt before I can heal.
I wish you understood how my life has shattered. I know it is miserable for you to be around me when I'm feeling miserable. Please be as patient with me as I am with you.
When I say, "I'm doing okay," I wish you could understand that I don't feel okay and that I struggle daily.
I wish you knew that all of the grief reactions I'm having are very normal. Depression, anger, hopelessness and overwhelming sadness are all to be expected. So please excuse me when I'm quiet and withdrawn or irritable and cranky.
Your advice to "take one day at a time" is excellent. I wish you could understand that I'm doing good to handle him at an hour at a time.
I wish you understood that grief changes people. When my child died, a big part of me died with him. I am not the same person I was before my child died, and I will never be that person again.
I wish very much that you could understand - understand my loss and my grief, my silence and my tears, my void and my pain. But I pray daily that you will never understand.
I wish my child hadn't died. I wish I had him back
I wish you wouldn't be afraid to speak my child's name. My child lived and was very important to me. I need to hear that he was important to you as well.
If I cry and get emotional when you talk about my child, I wish you knew that it isn't because you have hurt me. My child's death is the cause of my tears. You have talked about my child, and you have allowed me to share my grief. I thank you for both.
I wish you wouldn't "kill" my child again by removing his pictures, artwork, or other remembrances from your home.
Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn't shy away from me. I need you more than ever.
I need diversions, so I do want to hear about you; but I also want you to hear about me. I might be said and I might cry, but I wish you would let me talk about my child, my favorite topic of the day.
I know that you think of and pray for me often. I also know that my child's death pains you, too. I wish you would let me know things through a phone call, a card or a note, or a real big hug.
I wish you wouldn't expect my grief to be over in six months. These first months are traumatic for me, but I wish you could understand that my grief will never be over. I will suffer the death of my child until the day I die.
I am working very hard in my recovery, but I wish you could understand that I will never fully recover. I will always miss my child, and I will always grieve that he is dead.
I wish you wouldn't expect me "not to think about it" or to "be happy". Neither will happen for a very long time so don't frustrate yourself.
I don't want to have a "pity party," but I do wish you would let me grieve. I must hurt before I can heal.
I wish you understood how my life has shattered. I know it is miserable for you to be around me when I'm feeling miserable. Please be as patient with me as I am with you.
When I say, "I'm doing okay," I wish you could understand that I don't feel okay and that I struggle daily.
I wish you knew that all of the grief reactions I'm having are very normal. Depression, anger, hopelessness and overwhelming sadness are all to be expected. So please excuse me when I'm quiet and withdrawn or irritable and cranky.
Your advice to "take one day at a time" is excellent. I wish you could understand that I'm doing good to handle him at an hour at a time.
I wish you understood that grief changes people. When my child died, a big part of me died with him. I am not the same person I was before my child died, and I will never be that person again.
I wish very much that you could understand - understand my loss and my grief, my silence and my tears, my void and my pain. But I pray daily that you will never understand.
Wednesday, September 18, 2019
Eden Park
Eden Park is New Zealand's largest sports stadium. Located in central Auckland, New Zealand's largest city, it is three kilometres southwest of the CBD, on the boundary between the suburbs of Mount Eden and Kingsland. Wikipedia
Rugby and cricket are played here.
I have not seem other photos taken at this angle,
Wednesday, August 21, 2019
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