“This one of the best grief and mourning books around and I have read more than a score of them since my wife died of cancer in 2015. Louis LaGrand’s effort is remarkable because it blends the best grief and mourning advice with the latest understanding of life-after-death and reincarnation. Sort of a one-stop on the subjects that most pertain to each other. If you’re grieving/mourning anything or anyone and need not to spend money on a dozen such books this is your best bet. Thank you, Mr. LaGrand.”
And so I wrote in an Amazon review in May, 2016, and so I still contend after sending the book to my step-daughter who recently lost her alcoholic father. He sent her a gift of love in a radio play that her boyfriend wrote off as a coincidence but I think was one of LaGrand’s Extraordinary Experiences. And if she will remain open to them there will be many more in a new, actually better relationship than before.
As the author says: “Focusing on that source of everlasting care and support can give us great strength (and) energy to use in the restoration of life after loss.”
Of Mrs Charm’s passing. She’s been with us in spirit ever since. The dream visitations stopped about the time in 2018 that she gave me and Bar her blessing, but she’s still sending me birds. Wren buddies, mostly.
I’ll trek out to the cemetery this morning with
a rose yellow roses for remembrance.
…to marble bathroom counter tops and drop-in porcelain sinks. Which includes getting rid of the wall mirrors above the existing fiberglass tops and sinks. When that’s done, in a week or so, we’ll start painting the bathrooms sunshine yellow and hanging six-panel natural pine doors.
So far at the mini-rancho we’ve replaced the microwave, the dishwasher, the electric range, the AC system, and tiled the bathroom floors. Future work includes a new hot water heater to head off a potential flood from an old, leaking one. We bought the place “as-is” for a slight savings and it’s slowly becoming “as-was”.
On Friday we finally close on the sale of Rancho Roly Poly and get back some of the money we’ve spent. And say goodbye to the house we shared with Mrs Charm for twelve years and where Mr. Boy grew up.
Mrs. Charm has been sending us lots of interesting birds, but especially wrens, which we used to call our wren buddies. They are the king of all birds.
The other day at Rancho Roly Poly, where I went to run the irrigation system to keep the lawn green in case our buyer bailed before closing and we had to start selling all over again, I hung a new bird feeder.
I asked Mrs. Charm to send a wren to inaugurate the feeder. Then the doorbell rang and I went to answer it. I looked back over my shoulder at the feeder outside and saw a wren perched on it chowing down.
That was cool but what’s even cooler are the wrens Bar saw a day or so afterwards on our porch at the mini-rancho. These wrens were standing on the cushion of the chair I usually sit in, which was odd enough. But these two were going at it like we sometimes see cardinals do. Kissing. By rubbing the tops of their longish beaks together. Ah, love, ain’t it grand.
Mrs Charm’s good friend Michele Kay Schultz, came up in Hong Kong for part of her peripatetic life. She passed in 2011 but her memory lives. Wonder what she’d say about this:
“How, precisely, China (or Hong Kong’s titular boss, Ms. Lam) might be compelled to scrap this proposed extradition law is a question perhaps best left to President Trump’s national security team. But if America, Britain and the rest of the world’s great democracies do not stand squarely, clearly and convincingly with the heroes of Hong Kong, there is a great danger that China will read the further abandonment of Hong Kong’s people as yet another signal that the Free World will not defend its own.”
Russia, after all, defended Venezuela until the threat of a Trump invasion evaporated.
Barbara Ellen’s mother is on her last few physical days and BE is spending those days with her at her sister’s home, reminding me of the days of Mrs. Charm’s physical ending and the intense grief that went with it.
Grief never ends. It just slackens over time, gets easier to deal with.
Her mother’s room is crowded with a host of deceased relatives, immortal energy beings, who both frighten and reassure her. “They want me to go with them,” she says, “and I’m ready.” BE has accepted the notion of immortality and it will help her deal with her mother’s passing, make the grief easier to bear.
We get their thank-you letters. One in 2017 and two this year. Two Hispanics and one apparent black. I dislike confining the awardees to minorities but Mrs. C. might not and the University of Texas journalism scholarship is in her name not mine.
As I said in a comment back in 2016 when the scholarship went live, “Journalism was my living and I’m glad its over but it was more than that to Mrs. C and the scholarship is to honor her not me. What sort of journalist it helps produce remains to be seen. Hopefully an objective one. Not all of them are screaming leftists.”
I found it amusing that this year’s awardees were very different in their thank-yous. One was verbose, going on for several pages, mainly about herself (they are both women) while the other was succinct. She boiled it down to one page and spent as much space commenting on Mrs. C. as on herself. I liked the succinct one best.