The Uninvited Guest

My husband played golf last weekend, his normal weekly outing with a good friend. He took along with him his favorite golf partner from years past, our son Bobby. He attached Bobby’s photo to the visor on the golf cart, sharing with him his disappointments and successes.

“You would have loved that drive off the tee.”

“I know, I know. That chip shot sucked.”

“Stop making fun of my swing.”

Nine holes into the round, an uninvited guest showed up. At first he was subtle, using his golf club to tap Mike gently on the shoulder. Mike ignored him. He was, after all, not invited to the party.

He finally made his presence known by swatting his driver against Mike’s head.

“Your son is gone! You’ll never play golf with him again. He’s dead.” Talk about messing up a golfer’s zone. He was as subtle as a gun.

He’d wait until Mike was teed up to swing, and he’d cough or say something under his breath. At the hole, he’d whisper something rude so Mike would miss the putt.

“Your son shouldn’t have died.”

“Think about all your regrets.”

“You’ll never get another chance to make things better.”

“The doctors screwed up.”

And the worst: “You were a bad father.”

How do you get rid of a tagalong? His leering face sat in the golf cart, anxious to make another nasty comment. He trampled across the green, leaving destruction in his wake.

Mike finally stood his ground and told the guy he wasn’t welcome. He swung his driver in a huge arc, snapping the guy’s head off. It rolled down the fairway and into the woods. A perfect slice. Mike shook himself, then spoke truth.

“Bobby’s days were numbered by God before he was even born. I will see him again in Heaven, and anything I’ve done wrong will be made right. Regrets are a waste of time. Bobby isn’t holding a grudge because he’s been made perfect by our Heavenly Father.”

Take that, tagalong. Fore!

Love golf



Do you have such special person in your life?

Yes, I do have someone like this…It’s amazing, He’s amazing.



Oh, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person:
having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words,
but pour them all out, as they are, chaff and grain together,
knowing that a faithful hand will take and sift them,
keep what is worth keeping,
and then, with the breath of kindness,
blow the rest away.

~ George Eliot, 1819 – 1880 ~
English Novelist

Do you have such special person in your life?


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Those Dang Grief Steps

Shots from a Wise Woman

IMG_2212 I took this picture of a painting at a SF art gallery. This is what grief feels like.

I started going through the grief steps with you in this blog and I thought it would be a one after another kind of thing. But that’s not how this works. Instead, I find myself  jumping around through them all.

The Elizabeth Kublor Ross grief cycle is : denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. This cycle is pretty true, however, I don’t think everyone feels it the same way or has all the components involved in their grief.

I never felt the denial. As I stated in my previous post I didn’t have much denial. I mean, how do you deny that someone is gone? I understood why my husband left. So for me denying it wasn’t an issue.

Same with bargaining. I mean, what am I going to bargain for? A Lazarus…

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A Different Kind of Loss

We usually measure loss by what’s considered the big things; death, divorce, getting fired.

There’s a loss that’s more subtle, sneaking up and stealing the relationships you hold dear. When my dad began experiencing chronic pain, he changed into someone I didn’t recognize.

Dad had a different sense of humor. In addition to making up nick-names for everyone, he changed the name of just about every restaurant in town. The weirdest name exchange ever was for the old Ground Cow. It was a Highway 80 icon in the sixties. We’d often stop there on our way to and from the Bay Area and Reno. Dad called it the Lacerated Bovine. Really? Yup. That was Dad.

When we moved back to Reno in 1973, Dad raved about something called the Awful Awful. Harvey’s or Harrah’s or one of the casinos served this dish in their restaurant. Knowing Dad, I knew it must be code for something else. When the day approached for us to go out to eat, I was more than irritated hearing about this famous Awful Awful.

“What’s the big deal about a WAFFLE?” untitled (2)

Dad laughed. “It isn’t a waffle, Chickie. It’s a hamburger.

Good grief. Who knew?

My dad’s personality gradually declined from the funny, generous, everybody loves Roger, to a cranky old man. Pain robbed him of the ability to see beyond himself.

I lost my dad months before he died. Have you suffered the same losses in your relationships?