Alone, But not Always Lonely

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Alone, But Not Always Lonely

I am alone. But am I lonely?

I have been widowed for six and a half years. For four and a half of those years, my son and my oldest grandson lived with me, so I was never truly alone. Now, I am—and once again I ask myself the question: am I lonely?

Sometimes.

Missing the Noise

My mom used to tell me that one day I would miss the noise—the very noise I constantly complained about, the noise that never gave me a moment of peace. For years, I was sure that day would never come.

But it has come, and it arrived with a vengeance.

I get it now, Mom. I truly do.

Why Now?

I’ve spent time reflecting on why these feelings have surfaced now, after all these years, and I think I understand why.

Since COVID, I worked remotely. Even from home, I stayed connected to my coworkers throughout the day—through Teams, phone calls, and texts. Many of us had worked together for seventeen years, so it still felt like being “in the office.”

Recently, I changed jobs, and everything shifted. Communication is minimal now—rarely phone calls or texts, and only occasional Teams messages. Whether it’s because they don’t know me yet or simply the culture of the workplace, the silence is impossible to ignore.

Change Upon Change

In all my years of widowhood, I have never felt this alone. I believe it’s the combination of a new job, quiet holidays, and yet another major change—moving to a new city last year. I left behind neighbors and friends I knew and loved.

So much has changed in 2024 and now into 2025.

Some nights, the quiet feels too loud. Sometimes the aloneness is overwhelming. When it snowed in south Mississippi in January 2025, I rushed to the window, amazed by the rare winter wonderland outside. And then I cried – big, sobbing, noisy, ugly cries. There was no one to go outside with, no one to share the beauty of that moment with. At that moment I have never felt more alone in my life. But I pulled myself together. I didn’t rush to fill that void with a relationship just to have companionship.

Finding Community Again

I am filling my days with meaningful things—a new church, a wonderful group of church ladies who welcomed me as if they’ve known me forever, book clubs, and small adventures throughout my new city. I know it will take time to feel completely at home, but I am confident that day will come.

Until then, I thank God daily for these incredible blessings—blessings I know I do not deserve.

Comfortable With the Silence

I share all of this to say that while I am alone—and sometimes lonely—I am comfortable where I am. I am at peace with the silence. I thank God that I do not feel pressured to fill it with a relationship, especially one that is not part of His plan.

In this season of my life, I truly believe God is nudging me to be alone. I went straight from my parents’ house to my husband’s house. I was married for thirty-seven years, yet I never learned to see marriage as the beautiful covenant described in the Bible—because I didn’t know the Bible.

God is working on me now. He is teaching me to be comfortable in my own skin, to turn to His Word instead of a dating app. In the past two years, I have spent more time in the Bible than in my entire life combined, and He has richly blessed me for it.

A Message to Other Women

Ladies, I hope you can learn to be comfortable alone and not rush into another relationship simply to have a man by your side. Wasting time on the wrong person can lead to pain, heartache, and—these days—even disease. Worst of all, it can lead to loneliness while not being alone.

I have been tempted to click on that Facebook dating app, but I never follow through. I want to wait and see what God has planned for me, because His plan is always better than anything I could choose for myself.

That plan may mean I remain alone for the rest of my life—and that is okay. When the ache in my heart returns, I know exactly where to turn. I turn to Him, and to no other.

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“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” – Jeremiah 29:11

All Alone in the Snow

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We had an epic, rare snow in the south. I joyfully watched posts of families, couples, friends, lovers playing in the white fluff. I gleefully pressed my face to the window with happiness and joy. But then it hit me. A tear rolled down my eye. I’m alone. I’m all alone. I don’t have anyone to hold hands with in the snow. I don’t have anyone to help me up after making a snow angel. I don’t have anyone to share this special moment with. I don’t have anyone to laugh with. I am all alone. Ugly cry came next. Snot may have been involved.

But then, miraculously, water works stopped.

I have God.

I would rather be alone than where I was 6 years ago.

Pity party over. A moment of loneliness almost wreaked havoc on a time of joy. We all have these moments. I lived in a house full of people, but felt alone and loneliness. Now I am alone, but not lonely, except for a few gut punching instances. But I get over it.

I am truly happy, even alone.

I am blessed.

It is Okay to be Angry at Your Partner After they Die

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There is no timetable or a rubber-stamped one size list fits all for grief.  Everyone’s journey is different, but one thing in common is a range of emotions.

988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline

Anger is a strong emotion.  It is common to feel abandoned by your loved one – like they really had a choice in dying.  But what if they did have a choice in dying – like my husband?  He chose to die. He chose to take his own life instead of facing future difficulties.  Anger is extreme in this situation.  My therapist says as long as I do not let the anger consume my life, I am handling this in a healthy manner.

Five years to the date.  Five years later and my first emotion that surfaces now is anger.  Not sadness.  Not loss.  Not love.  Anger.  But I am okay with that now.  I own it.  And I am determined to live my best life.  And oh I am having so much fun doing so.

 But May is a hard month for my family.  My husband’s mental health deteriorated rapidly until that pivotal evening of May 29, 2019.  Added to the stress of this May is I have been in the middle of the selling of my beloved piece of property and looking to start fresh in another city.  I grieved giving up my land, but the selling process has been so stressful that I cannot wait to get rid of it.  Good riddance.

I hate to see my children and grandchildren hurt.  That makes me angry.  The consequences of that night will ripple throughout our lives forever.  My daughter struggles with the loss of her beloved daddy.  We have come to recognize we are grieving what seems like two separate people.  She loves and misses her dad.  She wants to hug him.  I am angry and want to throat punch him.

My son is another matter.  His grief took him on a path last year that has separated us.  He currently lives on the opposite end of the United States, and he is working on himself.  I wish him all the best.  Maybe one day our relationship can be repaired.

Not all is gloomy though.  I love life, my family, my friends and my career.  I encourage all of you going through a similar situation to find your village.  Connect.  Re-Connect.  Strengthen bonds.  Have faith.  Seek counseling.  Be kind to others.

 I normally wake up on May 29 and simply want to crawl back under the covers.  But not this morning.  Yesterday I learned my act of sale is finally happening.  I was so excited I barely slept.  After tossing and turning, I finally got up and played on my phone.  It wasn’t until I read my FB memories that I realized today was May 29 – the 5-year anniversary.  Progress.  I have come so far.  Sometimes incidents bring me back to ground zero.  But each time it is getting easier to pick myself up. Big Progress.

I reached out to his siblings today.  They are hurting.  They lost a brother in a horrific manner.  I do not want my anger to be all-consuming.  I want to recognize there are others who hold love in their heart, and I want to honor that.  My in-laws are good people.  The best.  I want to validate their feelings and let them know I realize they feel pain.  I always want a bond with my in-laws.

I have been re-connecting with high school friends these past few years.  Greatest therapy ever.

And now that I am moving to a new city, I want to connect with my community.  Find a church.  Join a Bible Study, a book club – something – something to connect with new people and expand my village.

It’s time.

Re-Enter the Dating World – at my age?!?!?!?!

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My friends and I were discussing re-entering the dating world – in our 60s. I cannot wrap my brain around this. A lot has changed since the 1970s! Dating apps! I cannot wrap my head around that either. I just cannot bring myself to participate in this. What would my profile say? I quickly ticked off 10 items:

(1) Looking for single, mature man with no addictions (including, but not limited to, alcohol, drugs, gambling…). (2) Looking to share love of vegetable gardening. (3) Looking to share love of planting rose bushes, and killing said rose bushes. (4) I love to fish. But you must touch the worms and take my fish off the line. (5) Looking for someone who can accept that I am the Queen of Corny Jokes. (6) Looking for someone to pick me up when I fall. Literally, because I am a natural at tripping over flat surfaces. (7) Looking for someone to take a road trip with, and accept the fact I miss most of my exits, get lost quite a bit, and confuse GPS to the point she quits speaking to me. (8) Looking for someone who knows how to administer first aid for when I badly cut, or burn myself, in the kitchen. (9) Looking for someone who knows how to use a fire extinguisher in the kitchen, and change the batteries in the smoke detector. (10) Looking for someone who can just tolerate overall goofiness.

I would polish it off with: Sometimes I have family drama. I am sure you do too. Let’s get together in my kitchen to talk about it and I will burn, I mean cook, supper for you……

I think I rather the old days when you met someone at church, school, or a bar! Problem is, I am too comfortable in my house and do not want to go out and socialize to meet people. I am a great grandma for gosh sakes!

But with age comes wisdom. I have let go of past mistakes. They do not define me. I have re-set the clock. But am I ready to begin dating again?

Not just yet. At least I do not think I am.

I am still working on me – a work in progress. I’ve done the therapy. I’ve done the reconnecting with friends from my past. And now my latest call to action is my health. I pay attention to proper nutrition and I exercise.

Maybe I will take a cooking class next, instead of dating, and burn up someone else’s kitchen.

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Want to join me in this health adventure? Not much compares to feeling good in your own skin. Age has nothing to do with this. I started 5 months ago, age 62, terribly out of shape and no energy. I now exercise at least 5 days a week for 30 minutes. I am down 2 sizes in clothes and that alone makes everything worth it. I attend a zoom nutrition class every Tuesday night with my health coach. I eat better. My grocery bill is lower. My skin looks great. I have energy. Invest in yourself. I’m glad I did. Our partner community inspires and takes care of each other.

$179 for a year of the BODi app (formerly Beachbody) – has thousands of workouts, recipes, meditation – you name it! This includes your 1st month of Shakeology (CLEAN ingredients – packed with tons of vitamins and nutrients, including prebiotic and probiotics).

Send me an email and I will send you some information about my group:

FineHotGreatGrandma@gmail.com

End of a Spooky Hollow Era

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Signed a contract with a buyer today to buy my beloved property. Bittersweet moment.

Oh how I struggled with this. Today I feel the pain of leaving my sanctuary. I do not have room in my heart to think of the future possibilities.

Back in 2009, my husband and I were looking for a place to buy. We were shown this property. Famous last words from me, “No way on God’s green earth am I moving into that country bumpkin place.” God has a sense of humor. We put an offer in on another place. All was in the works.

UNTIL

My husband was laid off. Only place we could afford on my salary was – you guessed it. This scary piece of property I dubbed Spooky Hollow. I would not even invite friends over because I was so embarrassed by this place. Shame on me, because this was a blessing from God.

God’s plan is better than mine. My family had a blast. We had beautiful vegetable gardens and chickens. I raised my two oldest grandkids here. I learned I wasn’t really a city girl. My country girl heart blossomed. When I turned on my dirt road I immediately forgot a hectic day. This was my pace. This was my safe haven. We made a bunch of memories. I had lots of stories to tell.

Life changes. Time to move on. I grudgingly made the decision a few months ago. I accepted the offer today. Moving on to new things. Moving to new places – not sure where – but somewhere.

I’ve taken interest in new things – my health for one. Taking my life back. Time for me. I have the time and I have the money. I joined a group. I exercise from home. I have lost almost 35 pounds and 25″ in 5 months. I’ve become a BODi coach so I can empower other women to do the same.

God takes care of me. He took care of me all those years at Spooky Hollow and I have complete faith I will find happiness in my next adventure. I am sure He will let me see the joy in my new surroundings. I will make new memories and have new stories to tell. Stay tuned!

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Want to join part of my health adventure? Not much compares to feeling good in your own skin. I started 5 months ago, age 62, terribly out of shape and no energy. I now exercise at least 5 days a week for 30 minutes. I am down 2 sizes in clothes and that alone makes everything worth it. I attend a zoom nutrition class every Tuesday night. I eat better. My grocery bill is lower. My skin looks great. I have energy. Invest in yourself. I’m glad I did. Our partner community inspires and takes care of each other.

$179 for a year of the BODi app (formerly Beachbody) – has thousands of workouts, recipes, meditation – you name it! This includes your 1st month of Shakeology (CLEAN ingredients – packed with tons of vitamins and nutrients, including prebiotic and probiotics).

Send me an email and I will send you some information about my group:

FineHotGreatGrandma@gmail.com

Sweet Memories

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My son hooked up an antennae to my house so I could watch local stations when not streaming.  This has brought back a flood of memories, great memories, good memories, sweet memories.  In our early years of marriage, when we had a boat, our Saturday and Sunday mornings were spent fishing in the bayou – lots of time with my father-in-law tagging along.  Such great memories, good memories, sweet memories.  In later years, bones getting older, exhausted from a work week, no longer living on the bayou, no longer have a boat, we would leisurely snuggle on Saturday mornings, watching PBS.  We would kick off the morning with This Old House, and then watch the local New Orleans cooking shows.  In much later years, our two grandchildren would hop in bed with us for our Saturday morning PBS and snuggles.  Great memories, good memories, sweet memories.

The last few years of my husband’s life were not good.  Years of chronic body pain, years of living on pain meds – finally broke him.  He was depressed, angry, drank.  Dark moments.  Then he chose to leave this earth in a most horrible way that left his family shattered. Those last few years tried to overtake the sweet memories of a what was a good man – who did good deeds – made people laugh. That last day tried to define a man’s life of what he was not – robbing great memories, good memories, sweet memories.

Therapy – I highly recommend it.  Therapy brought me out of the dark and I do not linger there.  BUT!  Therapy could not control my dreams.  When most people lose a loved one, they whisper to heaven and ask for them to visit them in their dreams.  The times I dreamt of my husband were – were – let me just say – stressful.  I would wake up shaking – not wanting to move – stay in my bed – bury my head under the pillow – go away world I cannot face you!  Therapy – I highly recommend it.  Therapy brought me out of the dark so I did not linger there for the rest of the day. 

One day at a time – I got this!

And then!  2 years, 10 months and 22 days since my husband left this earth – finally!  I was dreaming.  I walked into my room.  He was waiting for me.  All I saw were beautiful blue eyes, a relaxed face and a gentle smile.  He was waiting for me to snuggle and watch our Saturday morning PBS.  Great memories, good memories, sweet memories.

Then I woke up.  But thank you God for this sweet moment.  Thank you God that I did have sweet memories.  So I decided I was going to lay there, relish the sweet moment and watch Saturday morning PBS. 

All was right with the world until I realized it was Tuesday. 

Therapy – I highly recommend it.  Therapy taught me to latch onto to this sweet moment.  Carry it with me throughout the day and go on living – even when you wake up on a Tuesday and think it is Saturday. 

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Help is available.

Speak with someone today.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

800-273-8255

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Acts 2:17 – In the last days, God says, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams.

Grief is not Linear

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Grief is not linear, there are no set stages to follow.

In the beginning, I refused to take blame for my husband’s suicide.  The first thing the therapist says is to not take blame.  Check!  I had that mastered.  I would hear other widows blaming themselves and would think get a grip person – you are not to blame.

1 year, 4 months, and 9 days later that changed.  That changed drastically.  The guilt was overbearing.  What could I have done differently?  Could I have pushed him harder to get mental help? He absolutely loved pies.  Why didn’t I bake him more pies?

I spent that morning with tears running down my face texting with his sisters, admitting my guilt.

In my heart, I knew his suicide was not my fault.  But I guess this was a stage I had to experience.

I spent the first year of grief in an angry state.  Looks like my second year will be of a wife grieving the loss her husband, their 37 years of marriage and what the future might have held.

I look back on past blogs and cringe.  Sometimes I cannot believe I put my feelings in writing for the public to see.  I feel I made statements that disrespected my husband.  He is not here to defend himself.  And for that, I apologize to our children and his family.

This second year, I am remembering the good times and pushing the bad last years away.  I am getting better at that.  However, in my dreams, these last few months, the angry husband makes his appearance and gives me nightmares.  Let me be clear, he was never physically hurtful.  His pain made him an angry person and that anger was pointed to his caretaker – me.  Unfortunately, the sitting on pins and needles of anticipating mood swings has manifested into my dreams.  All I can do is pray for this to stop.

I am not writing this for sympathy, compassion, or for mounds of people telling me my husband’s suicide is not my fault.  I do know that, but it is a stage I had to experience.  Once again, I am being brutally honest in sharing my grief in the hope my words will help someone one day in their grief journey.

And I feel the overwhelming need to apologize to my deceased husband for all the hurtful actions and words I directed towards him throughout our 37 years of marriage.  I share the blame for some of our problems.  I am truly sorry.

I strongly felt the need to put this in writing for all to see.

2 Corinthians 7:10 

For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death.

YourAvon.com/ghegwood

Don’t Call me a High Maintenance City Girl!!!

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I must say I was a pampered princess growing up. My dad did not let his girls use lawn equipment, nor did he make us help with outside chores. I, personally, think he did all the outside work by himself to get away from all the girls. The yard was his domain.

My mom added to the role of pampered princesses. Whenever us girls were attending a high school dance, my mom didn’t let us do any housework. We were to pamper ourselves like Egyptian royalty, soaking in a scented bath, polishing our nails and fixing our hair.

When I got married, I remained a pampered princess. Yard work just wasn’t my thing.

Fast forward 27 years when we moved to my beloved #SpookyHollowSouthernMS. I discovered how much I love the farm life. Polished nails were a thing of the past. I dug in the dirt, touched earthworms, got a farmer’s tan……

I was quickly shedding the pampered princess persona, or so I thought.

Fast forward 10 more years to widowhood. I realized, even though I was no longer a high maintenance city girl, I was still somewhat pampered. The husband may have been disabled, but he was still the caretaker. All I did was go to work and dabble in the garden. I never had to cut grass, cook, clean or fix anything that broke.

This week is brought to you by the letter “W”. We have a broken weed eater, a broken washing machine and a broken water well.

The water well was the worst.

In the past, I would have headed off to work, come back 9 hours later, and all would be fixed.

Now I have to make the decisions. While all I wanted to do was check into a hotel and wait out everything getting fixed, I couldn’t. I had to work, wait for repairmen to get estimates, take care of a sick granddaughter, put pots outside to catch rainwater, haul in water from the redneck pool to flush the toilet, and make sure the dogs, cats, chickens and ducks all had water.

I was so mad at the late husband for leaving me with all this I rode the riding mower in the wet, muddy yard, doing donuts, leaving ruts in what was once the husband’s pride and joy. There take that!

Once I got the frustration out, I knew what had to be done. I saw another rain storm was coming so I filled a bowl of rainwater with Tide, threw a set of clothes in for the next day, put on my bathing suit, grabbed my Avon Veilment Natural Spa Black Rose Body Scrub & Cleanser, Avon Elastine PropoliThera Volumizing Shampoo & Conditioner (OK – maybe I am still a little high maintenance), and headed outside.

The grandson, who was filthy from playing on the faux farm all day, was going to join me. He stepped into the rainstorm and said no way, that water was too cold.

Didn’t phase me. I washed clothes, bathed, washed and conditioned my hair.

I have a new appreciation for our forefathers and mothers whose main job was just surviving by taking care of the homestead.

After this week, nobody better ever call me a high maintenance city girl!

(Just a note to my U.S. readers – I am finding healing in giving back.  My side job – my Avon business – is helping me do that.  My daughter, and youth minister son-in-law, have a personal ministry of reaching out to college students in their home town. Pre-Quarantine, they would bring the college students into their home on Monday nights to break bread, play games and speak the gospel.  They have since then had to find other ways to minister to these young men and women.  I am tithing my online order proceeds to their ministry.  Every little bit helps.  Would you please check out my website?  If this is your first time ordering Avon online, use code WELCOME10 for 10% off any size order.  Your products will be delivered directly to your door.  Some of the college students are foreign exchange students.  From a hand built table in southern Mississippi, the gospel is managing to be spread around the world.  Would you shop from my online store and have a part in spreading God’s word?)

YourAvon.com/ghegwood

Name Changing – Game Changing?

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I am out of sorts. I am sure we are all out of sorts these days.

I was streaming music and Springsteen’s Dancing in the Dark started playing. That entire song describes me at this moment.

Man, I’m just tired and bored with myself….

…..I wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face…..

Well, I already did some changing. Lost weight while working from home during the stay at home mandate, so I need new clothes. Definitely changed my hair. The face – nothing I can do about that except doll it up with some of my Avon. I’m good with that.

But next I am going with a name change. Heading back to the maiden name. Been thinking about this for a long, long time. COVID had me postpone this, but I am ready to see if the courts are open to schedule this. This is in no way me trying to erase almost 37 years of marriage. It’s just time. I have had a year to reflect back on my marriage. It wasn’t all bad – we had some great times and had two beautiful children. But it could have been better – better if we had been Biblical centered in our decision to marry.

My mom taught me to be independent, to always have my own job in order to have my own money, in order to take care of myself if need be. My mom was a child of divorce in the 1920s. Her dad was a womanizer, and left my grandmother with 3 children (one was a sickly infant son). My grandmother had to pack up a bag, leaving their family home with only what she and her two young daughters could carry. They had to walk miles to my great grandfather’s home, asking him for shelter. Great Grandfather Duples was a stern man. He took them in, but to my mother, this was not a loving home. My grandmother’s next husband was an alcoholic. He was a good man, but a heavy drinker. His brother, also an alcoholic, touched my mother inappropriately. When she spoke public of this injustice, she was slapped in the face, told to be quiet and not say such things about an adult. These men totally shaped my mother’s opinion of men.

Because of this independence, I watched her and my dad butt heads over the years. I did the same with my husband. Looking back now, I realize neither one of us trusted our husbands enough to be decision makers.

And that is sad.

Love, honor and obey. Obey. That word did me in and had chills running up my spine. Had I really known the Bible back then, I would have realized there was more to the story. God’s design for marriage is beautiful. When both parties are Christ-Centered, the wife is confident in her husband’s lead, and the husband leads with a pure heart. He is never to lead as a tyrant, or her superior. The husband should include her in important decisions and be respectful of her considerations. A Christ-Centered husband would not misuse his leadership.

Being as independent as I am, I just think this takes a lot of trust on the woman’s part. However, I see this can be successfully done. My daughter’s marriage is truly Biblical based and for that I am so thankful. They serve each other beautifully and focus on each other’s strengths. Lord knows she didn’t get that from her Momma, or her Momma’s Momma.

The best advice I can give for marriage is straight from Ephesians 5:33. “However, each one of you also must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband.” Men and women are wired differently. Women crave love, men crave respect.

Women, if you do not give your husband respect, he will not show you the love. Men, if you do not show your wife the love, she will not give you the respect you crave. This is a cycle that must be followed for a successful marriage.

If you are having trouble in your marriage, I cannot urge you enough to get Biblical counseling and jump into this love/respect cycle with gusto. BUT, you must trust each other completely. You should both pray together for the sanctity and success of your marriage.

So this discombobulated way brings me back to my name change. I was raised independent, so on this Independence Day, I am putting into motion going back to my maiden name. I cannot change the past, but only can learn from it.

Marriage is not for everyone, and at this moment, I do not think I can ever be successful in this endeavor. But all in God’s plan.

As for the present, I am going to live my best life possible and thank God for every moment.

You sit around getting older
There’s a joke here somewhere and it’s on me
I’ll shake this world off my shoulders
Come on, baby, the laugh’s on me

You can’t start a fire
Sitting ’round crying over a broken heart
This gun’s for hire
Even if we’re just dancing in the dark
You can’t start a fire
Worrying about your little world falling apart

I’m starting my fire by taking the name back I was born with.

(Just a note to my U.S. readers – I am finding healing in giving back.  My side job – my Avon business – is helping me do that.  My daughter, and youth minister son-in-law, have a personal ministry of reaching out to college students in their home town. Pre-Quarantine, they would bring the college students into their home on Monday nights to break bread, play games and speak the gospel.  They have since then had to find other ways to minister to these young men and women.  I am tithing my online order proceeds to their ministry.  Every little bit helps.  Would you please check out my website?  If this is your first time ordering Avon online, use code WELCOME10 for 10% off any size order.  Your products will be delivered directly to your door.  Some of the college students are foreign exchange students.  From a hand built table in southern Mississippi, the gospel is managing to be spread around the world.  Would you shop from my online store and have a part in spreading God’s word?)

YourAvon.com/ghegwood

I Survived the Year of 2019 – Can I Survive this Year of Jumanji?

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For the most part, I am doing well.  Most part.

However, as the year anniversary of my husband’s suicide is about to roll around, I get deep anxiety as to how I am going to face that day.  Will I wake up gasping for breath?  Will I be able to get out of bed?  Will I be able to put one foot in front of the other?  Or will it just be another day?

Thank God I continue working from home, because I just do not know if I want to be around people that day.

Almost a year.  Sometimes it is flying by, some days it is dragging by.  But I know I made tremendous strides in my healing.

When I have to say my husband passed away, those words just do not seem right.  Passed away.  Passed away, to me, seems like a peaceful passing.  His was not.  His was a violent death – at his own hand.

I have not publicly shared what happened that day to try to protect what was good in Bubba, and let him have some dignity.  But by not doing so, rumors abound.  Rumors are worse than the truth.

May 29, 2019 – a day I will remember for the rest of my life.

The years of chronic pain, his body failing and the multitude of medicines he was on, I swear, turned his brain into Swiss cheese.  The last two years of his life were very difficult for him, and his moods were difficult for the rest of us.  His last two weeks of his life were worse.

I will not go into detail, but there are a few things that I would rather utter the words instead of others spreading rumors.  You will know this truth from me – the only other person with him that day.  What anyone else offers is pure conjecture.

All I will say is on May 29, 2019, Bubba had a most difficult day.  I returned home from work not knowing if I would find Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde.  I was in the front yard.  Bubba was on the carport – when I heard the gunshot.  I heard the gunshot.  I will never forget that.  I heard the gunshot.

I knew what he did.

I called 9-1-1.  Since no one else was home, the 9-1-1 operator said I had to check my husband to see if he was still breathing.  I could not imagine what I would find.  Yes, he was still breathing.  No, his face was not blown off like someone later told his sister.  How this untruth traveled from north Mississippi to the bayous of south Louisiana beats the heck out of me.  I could have had an open casket funeral if I had not chosen cremation.

To dispel other rumors, at no point was a gun turned on me.  I was not in fear of my life at that moment.

My goal in this is to make people think before they offer opinions to someone who has lost a loved one by suicide.  Death by suicide of a loved one already has enough stigma attached to the situation.  We do not want to hear you state our loved one cannot get into heaven because he took his own life.  We do not want to hear what the trajectory of a bullet does to the brain.  And mostly, if you were not in the room at the time and have no idea what occurred, we do not want you to offer opinions, or repeat hearsay as fact.

I hurt for Bubba for what his mind must have been going through contemplating his suicide.  I hurt for our children and grandchildren.  I see the pain on his siblings’ faces when they speak about him and I could just cry.  He’s left a world of hurt in cousins, aunts, uncle and friends.

His suicide hurts badly enough. Rumors and conjecture hurt even worse.

Fast forward to May, 2020.

As May 29, 2020 approaches, for the most part I am doing well.  Most part.

I am bringing on my own anxiety by anticipating I will have a bad day.

That is an unknown.

What I do know is God’s promise.

Philippians 4:6-7 – Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

This verse brings me peace, for the most part.  For the most part I am doing well.

A common comment heard from someone experiencing new grief is, “I wish I could fast forward from this deep pain to a day this pain does not bring me to my knees.”

This crazy COVID-19, Jumanji year has accomplished that very feat for me – fast forwarded my grief.  I am not making light of others’ hardships during this most difficult time, I am only speaking of my own experience.

Usually during a time of trial and tribulation, God sees it fit to put me in the middle of the turmoil.  But this time, God let me sit this one out.  He gave me rest, peace and blessings.  I still have a job.  I work from home.  I get paid.  And I will return to my job when this over.  For that, I am eternally grateful.

Life is good during my time of quarantine.  I am finding myself, re-kindling old friendships, spending many therapeutic moments in my vegetable garden, eating better, losing weight and learning much.  Learning things such as, did you know you can open a bag of potato chips and not eat the entire bag in one sitting?  Who knew?  I have also learned I can let my bangs grow out, and I do not have to cut them myself.  The hairdo actually looks better!  I can have downtime and enjoy this without guilt.  I can be lazy sometimes, and that is okay.  My soul finds rest.

Yes, my grief has fast forwarded, but I find myself trying to put on the brakes as May 29, 2020 approaches.

Check with me on May 30, 2020, and I will let you know how I survived.

For the most part, I am doing well.  For the most part I have shed my skin and stepped into a skin I like much better.  For the most part I live, I laugh and I love.  For the better part I am moving forward, not just surviving but thriving.

For the most part I am truly doing well.

 

 

(Just a note to my U.S. readers – I am finding healing in giving back.  My side job – my Avon business – is helping me do that.  My daughter, and youth minister son-in-law, have a personal ministry of reaching out to college students in their home town. Pre-Quarantine, they would bring the college students into their home on Monday nights to break bread, play games and speak the gospel.  They have since then had to find other ways to minister to these young men and women.  I am tithing my online order proceeds to their ministry.  Every little bit helps.  Would you please check out my website?  If this is your first time ordering Avon online, use code WELCOME10 for 10% off any size order.  Your products will be delivered directly to your door.  Some of the college students are foreign exchange students.  From a hand built table in southern Mississippi, the gospel is managing to be spread around the world.  Would you shop from my online store and have a part in spreading God’s word?)

YourAvon.com/ghegwood