The Vanderbuilt

When I got divorced Billy was 11. I never knew what an impact it had on his heart. I have had the past 3 years thinking about it all. Reliving every moment of my life with him. He loved family. He kept connected to the places he went to as a child. One of these places was the Vanderbuilt museum in Centerport . I recently had a brick installed where he took this photo. It was my way of making sure he always stays apart of them so one day his daughter can visit and feel connected to him. There is also a brick at the planting fields on Long island.

Disney Feed

My son started getting into his drawing around 2015. I really believe he did this to find balance within himself . He often felt lonely inside. He was so talented but as most things he did he felt he wasnt good enough. I wish he followed this dream. God gives you such a gift you go after it. Keep getting better and never give up. I will always believe this was the dream he should have followed. Thank God we have his drawings. He started an Instagram page and acquired 4500 followers. Connecting various artists. Sharing their work. Friends he made

continued that page and accumulated 15,000 followers.

The stone

Written from A Bed for your Heart

“The best way I can describe grieving over a child as the years go by is to say it’s similar to carrying a stone in your pocket.

When you walk, the stone brushes against your skin. You feel it. You always feel it. But depending on the way you stand or the way your body moves, the smooth edges might barely graze your body.

Sometimes you lean the wrong way or you turn too quickly and a sharp edge pokes you. Your eyes water and you rub your wound but you have to keep going because not everyone knows about your stone or if they do, they don’t realize it can still bring this much pain.

There are days you are simply happy now, smiling comes easy and you laugh without thinking. You slap your leg during that laughter and you feel your stone and aren’t sure whether you should be laughing still. The stone still hurts.

Once in a while you can’t take your hand off that stone. You run it over your fingers and roll it in your palm and are so preoccupied by it’s weight, you forget things like your car keys and home address. You try to leave it alone but you just can’t. You want to take a nap but it’s been so many years since you’ve called in “sad” you’re not sure anyone would understand anymore or if they ever did.

But most days you can take your hand in and out of your pocket, feel your stone and even smile at its unwavering presence. You’ve accepted this stone as your own, crossing your hands over it, saying “mine” as children do.

You rest more peacefully than you once did, you’ve learned to move forward the best you can. Some days you want to show the world what a beautiful memory you’re holding. But most days you twirl it through your fingers, smile and look to the sky. You squeeze your hands together and hope you are living in a way that honors the missing piece you carry, until your arms are full again.” © Jessica Watson

Gorgeous piece written by Four Plus an Angel by Je

ssica Watson.

Grey Street

Dave Matthew’s started talking about why he wrote the song. He said there are so many colors in life and sometimes we cant get past the front door. We are stuck in the grayness of lifes troubles. Sadness of life overrules those bright colors.

(By DMB)

Oh, look at how she listens
She says nothing of what she thinks
She just goes stumbling through her memories
Staring out onto Grey Street
She thinks, “Hey, how did I come to this?
I dream myself a thousand times around the world
But I can’t get out of this place”
There’s an emptiness inside her
And she’d do anything to fill it in
But all the colors mix together – to grey
And it breaks her heart
How she wishes it was different
She prays to God most every night
And though she swears it doesn’t listen
There’s still a hope in her it might
She says, “I pray
But they fall on deaf ears
Am I supposed to take it on myself?
To get out of this place?”
There’s loneliness inside her
And she’d do anything to fill it in
And though it’s red blood bleeding from her now
It feels like cold blue ice in her heart
When all the colors mix together – to grey
And it breaks her heart

A life once lived

I saw this post and it instantly connected to me. I shall never return to what once was. I remember at the funeral the priest sat with me as if he were giving me last rights. He sat with me for a long time. I cant even remember the things he said to me. But I remember the feeling as if I had died too. I did but I didnt know it yet. You will never return to your life. This is grief of losing a child.

Title waves of Love

I dont know what provokes it. I think I have it managed most days. It hits me. I never know where I will be. I could be sitting at my desk at work or in a store. Your life comes through me and grabs my breathe. I feel this hardness in my chest and the tears start to fall. My heart starts beating so fast and all of our days start jumping in front of me. I often think you are visiting me in these moments. Reminding me you are still here. It’s on these days I am reminded that my life will never be the same. No matter how hard i manage to breathe every day