Coming out of the Fog

I have always loved helping people. I seem to have a countenance that people feel comfortable confiding in, sharing with, asking advice from. Even strangers tend to give me their life stories...in waiting rooms, elevators, stores, etc. I welcome those questions. I welcome those stories. Sometimes I offer to pray for them, sometimes I wish them well and sometimes I offer some wisdom. Wisdom. What in hell do I know about wisdom? I am a 40 year old wife and stay at home mom who knows nothing about anything. I am most often lost somewhere in my own world. I am most often searching for wisdom from those I believe have found it. My grandparents were wise. My mom is wise. My dad was wise. What made them so? It was not that they are/were older...dare I say, old. Although, there is some basic wisdom in just living a long life. No, it is experience. The wisdom comes out of learning from life and what it throws your way. Experiences in my life I can attest to. I have had many. Some good...

I was 4 when my Grandad Snyder died. I have had many other significant losses in my life since, but he was the first for me. At 4 you don't realize what it means. You don't really understand anything. You are too young to think about the extreme depth of loss. Sometimes I wish I was 4 again. At 4 you don't question everything. At 4 you live a life of hope and love by nature. You are innocent. I watch Riley right now. She is about the same age as I was. She feels this loss deeply, but yet, with such a child's view. She and Dad were best buddies, she has lots of fun memories of him. From the start, they were bonded. The feeling was mutual. What she sees is my pain. My deep sadness at this loss. The tears that come out of nowhere. The memories that make "me talk like that." She says that I talk quieter and my voice sounds funny. We talk a lot about it. She says things that throw me for a loop, she says things that scare me. She says thin...

Not only did I lose my dad in January, but I am acutely aware of others' losses since then. I have at least 7 friends (off the top of my head) that have joined what I somewhat tongue in cheek am calling the club. It is a club we never thought we would join (because parents live forever, right??), and yet here we are. Within two weeks of losing Dad, my friend's dad passed after a battle with illness. We were both so raw and we were both so shocked and angry that we spoke a little, but neither could really be there for the other. She joined the club. A month later a special lady from my childhood passed away. The family had moved to our street when we were children and we were instantly bonded family friends forever. We went to school and stayed in touch with the kids. A lot of our information about her illness and passing came from her daughter, and we have all cried over our shared losses. She and her brother joined the club. A few months later, an acquaintance reache...

Maybe. Some days I think yes. Then there are those other days. The ones that I think I will never get through. The ones with the sobbing. The ones with the frustration. The ones with the questions. The ones that hurt my brain, hurt my heart, hurt my...everything. Let me start over. On January 14, 2018, my world crashed. Yes, it sounds dramatic. It certainly was dramatic. On that morning, my father, Forrest B. Snyder, Jr. died. We knew it was coming. We were all able to be with him. We all got to say our words to him and hear him say his words for us. We prayed (a lot). We cried (a lot). He was ready. I wasn't. I don't know if there would ever have been a time that I was. It was dramatic. I thought I had known grief. I thought I had known pain. I had, but nothing like this. This was so painful that I can't describe it. That first day, it was so raw. Every nerve frayed to the extreme. Every thought brought tears. Every hug, every look from a family membe...