Choosing to live in JOY on the anniversary of my daughter's passing.

 

Four years ago today, my daughter passed away.

I woke up yesterday, and it felt like it was just like any other day, which was completely out of character for me. For the past 3 years, I’d awoken to tears and meltdowns—every single time.

(My mourning for the past 3 years always began the day before because it was just this horribly long 48 unending period for me. The 23^rd was just the beginning of the end.)

Last year was a bit different, though. I still woke up crying, feeling like I couldn’t breathe, but it didn’t last throughout the day. I had made plans to go out. To get out of my comfort zone and do something besides sit here and mourn. I signed myself and my ‘adopted daughter’ to a paint night. The painting was called Ethereal Evening. How perfect! It was as if my daughter had handpicked the event just for me. Given some of the miracles I attribute all to her, I’m not entirely sure she hadn’t  had a hand in it.

I also spent the next year doing things I’d never have done before her passing. I drove to New York to see her big brothers. I hadn’t seen them since the funeral. I took a mini-vacation. (I was supposed to knock 3 places off my list, but…Covid…) I published TWO books. I took two online courses for mediumship and started developing my own connections to the Otherside. I prayed more. I loved harder. I meditated longer. I was determined to move past the heaviest grieving and find the joy I needed to continue living for the next 30+ years.

I woke up today, and I’m sad that it happened. I’m sad my beautiful daughter is not here to enjoy this chilly Sunday morning with me. But for the most part, today doesn’t feel hopeless and breathless. Setting the intention last year to find joy again and live my best left really made the difference, I believe. And I truly am.

And I wish I could shout that from the rooftops.

Because I know so many mamas (and dads) out there who are not living in any joy. Who feel guilty for outliving their children. Who feel guilty for laughing or having a good time. Who are drowning in their grief. I want to hug you all and tell you despite what you’ve been told and how you feel right now, you can still live a life with purpose, hope, and joy. It does get better. You don’t hear that enough, and you should!

I had to remove myself from a few “support groups” because the message/vibe being put out was a lie. “Things Never Get Better” was their unofficial anthem.  They have it all wrong. Life will never be the same. That’s a given. A parent will NEVER forget the child they lost. That, too, is a given. But the idea that things will never get better is a lie. Parents need to hear that IT DOES GET BETTER. 

Louise Hay wrote a famous book titled “You Can Heal Your Life.” I always wished she put in parentheses (IF YOU WANT TO!) Not just as a disclaimer, but because it’s the truth! It is the same way with grieving a child. Things Can Get Better. Things CAN get BETTER. When someone asks, does it ever get any better, the answer is YES!!

It has to be a choice. You have to choose it. You have to want it. You have to KNOW that you can make it better. And then make it better. I get so sad when a parent asks if it gets better only to hear a resounding NO. How disheartening and completely defeating to hear! To be at one's lowest point, only to be told there is no way out of this. This needs to change.

Of course, I’m speaking of normal grief. I understand that there is something out there called complicated grief. Those parents may need help with a professional trained to deal with that specific type of suffering. But I’m not speaking about that today. However, I suffer from complex PTSD, and I’m STILL living in JOY. I add that because I want you to know that there is still hope.  

Losing my child will always be the hardest thing I have ever had to go through. I will never not want her to be here. But I also know she doesn’t want me to stop living. I want to stress that my love for her will never be measured in how hard I grieve. I agree that child loss is something that we don’t ever ‘get over.’ It will be with us, always. However, as long as I breathe, I will choose to live in joy, no matter what.

To My Blackbird~

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these sunken eyes and learn to see

All you life

You were only waiting for this moment to be free

Blackbird fly, blackbird fly

Into the light of the dark black night

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise 

You were only waiting for this moment to arise 

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

 

 

 

 

 

Has anyone seen that docu-series on Netflix, Surviving Death? I didn't know it existed until my sister mentioned it a few days ago, as I rarely watch TV. She said she'd thought of me after the second episode. So, out of curiosity, I put it on last night, and my (adopted) daughter Ray and I sat down last night to see what it was all about. Now I understand why my sister had me in her thoughts.

 

 I noticed I had many things in common with the people being documented. Though it started out talking about near-death experiences (which I have not delved too deeply into,) I did notice similar verbiage and experiences between other people in the series and me. If you don't know me or my story, I lost my oldest daughter several years ago, quite unexpectedly. Since then, I've become entirely grounded in my belief that our loved ones have all survived death. To some, this may be a bizarre concept, for if one has survived death, why aren't they here? The simple answer is, they have never left. They are all around us; they have never stopped loving us and are fully aware of what we're up to. 

 

Once the series started delving into the subject of Mediums and connecting with our loved ones on the other side, it really got my attention. After my daughter's death, I began to gravitate towards this subject, discovering, as it was mentioned in the series, that there are ways we could connect to our loved ones. I was desperate to talk to my daughter again right after she passed. I had always been open to Mediumship. I didn't need to take some huge leap of faith to believe that we could communicate; however, I also didn't need to be taken for a ride from a shady Medium either, so I have been rather selective in who I allow to read for me professionally. I've been fortunate that 99% of the Mediums I have spoken to have been above board and have helped me on this journey of grief. I became so fascinated with the subject that I started to explore my own abilities, and took a few beginner classes, and made connections that have further convinced me of the existence of life after death. I wouldn't call myself a full-fledged Medium, more like a budding amateur apprentice. I've not had years of development it takes to feel confident in my own abilities. Since deciding to pursue writing, my studies and personal development have been simmering on the back burner, waiting for me to return. Still, the experiences I have had, I think, give me a different insight as I write my "fiction" books with a different perspective. 

 

I would be remiss not to mention the episode that heavily covered Trance Mediumship and Physical Mediumship. I have come across the subject trance Mediumship very, very rarely. It's hardly mentioned in the books I read or the classes I've taken, or by the Mediums I know personally. My hardly expert opinion on this episode was one good episode-long eye roll. Now, maybe someone out there knows the lady who was "channeling" the three different "spirits" and can vouch for her legitimacy. I saw and heard some very credible things so far in this series, but that was not one of them. They talked about ectoplasm and the lady needing to be strapped down sitting in the little boxed area in the dark during the session, warning the audience that touching anything would be very dangerous… I wanted to shout at the TV. I have an open mind about many things, but watching that segment was cringy even for me, and her 'channeling' left me saying, "You've got to be kidding me." But enough of that...

This Saturday, I will be hanging out with one of my all-time favorite mediums. I love catching up with her when we get the chance. She's one of those kindred's that I could talk to for hours. She has such a special and unique relationship with my daughter—her ability to connect is amazing. Having had a relationship with this woman for 14 years prior to my daughter's death brings forth a trust that is beyond question for me. It's been such a healing comfort. I guess my daughter wanted to pop in early and assure me she will be at our session this weekend because she was throwing me all kinds of signs this morning. The in your face ones that say, I'm still here, I've never left! Waking up to those says are some of the best moments this mom could ask for. They give me the knowledge that I can't be shaken from, that she's still with me, that she's survived death and continues on!

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     In the summer of 2014, my youngest son was completely bored with the books on his shelf, and we still had so much summer vacation left to fill. It had been difficult getting him to read. Finding him a series he would stick with had always been challenging. I was forever on the lookout for anything that would keep him reading. So I set out to write a simple ghost story that would hold his attention. When it was done, I entrusted that manuscript to my husband to get it printed out for the kids and allowed him to read one of my stories for the first time. That story turned out to be The Ghost of Forlorn Lane. From the beginning, my husband really liked it and encouraged me to publish it. It was one thing to write stories for my kids; it was another thing entirely to put it out before the public eye. I wasn’t ready then, and I didn’t feel the story was at that point either.

     Shortly after writing Forlorn Lane, I realized that I needed to write a second YA Paranormal book. This time from a girl’s perspective, for my youngest daughter. I pulled out an old outline I had been toying with for years, gave it a new direction, revamped the Happy Haunts, and added Bob-o-Matic (AKA Sergeant Reed) as a character. Before I knew it, I had a rich story line that was begging to be told.

     Before I could finish the ending, my first grandchild made an appearance into the world, and my personal life became busier than I could have anticipated. I was now a full-time Grandma and still had my own youngest kids at home. The writing had to be put aside for the time being, but I hadn’t forgotten the characters I created.

     It was in the midst of this busy time that I lost my daughter quite unexpectedly. Nothing in my life has been the same, nor will it be again. Dreams and goals I had made for myself were all but forgotten as we tried to come to grips with what had happened to our family. The first year went by in a blur. The second year hit so much harder than the first it knocked the wind out of me. I am told that this isn’t unusual. In the third year, I became proactive with my healing and consciously stepped away from the heavier grief.

     I began to reach out, to explore the metaphysical world, and I started to follow an inner voice I had ignored for so many years. In honoring that voice, I was rewarded with confirmation and signs everywhere that I was finally headed on the right path.  It was time to pick up my dreams and march forward with them. It was laid on my heart that this was my time to start writing again. In writing, I found purpose, healing, and so many meaningful things. I still mourn the loss of my daughter. But in reworking my first two books and finally giving Hidden Lake it’s ending, I found that I could live in the present and find joy again. I could pick up my goals and work towards them, and I could make my daughter proud and honor her at the same time.

     These aren’t just books to me; they are anchors to a life I can enjoy again. I discovered that my dreams are still there, they are just slightly different from those I had before. I don’t expect everything to be the same because I am not the same. Even these stories are different from the first drafts I wrote. In a lot of ways, I like them better. I feel like they are stronger than the originals because I am stronger on the inside. And I cannot express how grateful I am that I found my voice again and can now continue in the storytelling that I have grown so much to love.

 

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IN YOUR EYES – SEASONS OF LOVE BOOK 2 by Jayne Townsley is now LIVE!

The Claremore, Oklahoma CRASH Crew is back and loving every moment of their lives.

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Crystal Davis got her wish for the Crew’s long-awaited post-graduation trip. Sun and fun before focusing on her new career as a pediatric RN at St. Francis’ Children’s Hospital in Tulsa, Oklahoma, was just what she needed. Bonus? She met Troy Bennett, and she realized she wanted less frivolity in her life and a little more serious.

Troy Bennett is a man fighting the demons who tell him he is worthless every day of his life. Demons his mother conjured. He quiets them with alcohol and casual relationships, never allowing any woman to get close enough to him so he will never have to disappoint one. Then on the spur of the moment trip to Panama City Beach with his Ranger buddies, he sees the future he’s always been afraid to pursue exit a Jeep Wrangler at a local donut shop.

Just as Troy and Crystal are finding their footing, she gets the call she never thought she would earn: Crystal Davis is going to Hollywood to be a contestant on America’s Next Chart Topper. What started as a way to honor her murdered friend has now become her dream. Chasing her dream means leaving Troy behind for a bit, and she wonders if her absence will cause what they’ve built so far to come crashing down.

Chasing her dream also means she’s put herself in a place where she’s vulnerable to the side of Hollywood that no one wants to acknowledge. A place where people only care about her and Troy’s story for the audience while behind the scenes, evil, selfish people work to tear them apart.

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The Ghost of Hidden Lake 

 Avery isn't your average 14-year old girl. For as long as she can remember, Avery has been able to see, hear, and know things others don’t. Like her imaginary friend, who is not exactly imaginary. To Avery, he is simply Cousin Ricky. To others, he's known as The Ghost of Hidden Lake. Having gifts doesn't make life easier. In fact, whenever her secret gets out, everything in Avery's life becomes that much harder, which is why she prefers to keep her “woo-woo” hidden in the shadows. With her mom working two jobs, they barely see each other. Even more rare are the visits with her dad since IT happened and tore the family apart. IT, being that thing the family doesn’t talk about. To make matters worse, her mother's boyfriend lives to make Avery miserable. When a well-meaning police officer accidentally shares Avery's secret to the media, her world is flipped upside down. Will things ever get better? According to Grandma Millie, nothing lasts forever.