It was my wedding night, but, it was not what I expected. How was I supposed to love a man, when I am nothing more than his captive; you wouldn’t have known it, as I was left completely on my own. At least for tonight, I wouldn’t be bullied by him, nor would I have to lodge the chair against my door. Drowning out my active, fearful mind, is the scraping of the tall tree branches against the window pane. It is my third wedding anniversary, and I am proudly spending it alone, and if you knew my husband, you would understand; just as I had on my first night as the Marquis’ wife . . . little did I realize, it wouldn’t be the last.
Dec. 21: Dad’s wife tells Cindy that he is her life and she doesn’t know how she can live without him. She holds out for a miracle and tells the doctors to not give up, to try everything. She tells Cindy that she and Dad talked about it a long time ago and that Dad would want her to keep him going. Debby, my sister who lives in AL, says she doesn’t think Dad would want to be kept alive on machines. There is a stroke specialist by the name of Rhonda who has been working with stroke patients and their families for 25 years and she is incredible. She is gentle, yet firm, compassionate, yet does not lie to the family.
Rachel’s son Joseph, sold into slavery by his jealous half brothers, eventually became second in command to the Egyptian Pharaoh. When he died, at the age of 110, his brothers embalmed him and placed him into a click here for details suitable for upper class burial. It probably looked very much like the elaborate coffin in Gallery 9. Belonging to a man named Pheto, it is typical of coffins used for nobles and other aristocrats. Coffins of this sort were prepared in advance, filled with precious items for use in the next world, and covered with pictures. Look, especially, for two very large eyes. They belong to the god Horus, who was shaped like a falcon and had unusually keen eyesight.
I buy the February Glamour at the checkout counter and notice there’s an article about a guy who suffers a stroke and survives, goes through a divorce, and goes into rehab. Unlike Dad though, he had brain activity and could communicate with his eyes and writing. I email him and tell him about Dad and about how inspirational the article was. He responds, surprisingly and tells me in a nice way to live each day to the fullest and make the most of it.
We never are ready. But what if you had to plan this while your loved one was still alive? What if your loved one could understand the concept of what you were doing and what you would be asking? How would you approach someone whose very independence had just recently been snatched from him?
For about fifteen minutes there was frantic movement up and down the straight, narrow stretch of road, people taking up posts to watch eagerly for any sign of trouble or confrontation.
Allowing three beloved grandchildren to participate in a funeral service by reading a portion of the eulogy not only helped the attendees know the deceased; it also helped the children. Grieving is a process, and people handle it differently, to include children. I am sure wherever that man is; he was smiling at his grandchildren that night. So sweet they were as they read, pure in their love for him, as he was in his adoration for these kids.