Jan. 15, 2019


Fifty-one years ago today, January 15, 1966, I gave birth to Rosemond, my youngest daughter. One year later, The local Newspaper featured a photo of the three of us---my two daughters, Rosemond and Myra, and me--- in a Mother's Day Photo.

So many Mother's Days have passed since the three of us were together.....so many I've lost count.....and I no longer go to the mailbox expecting a card.

It's interesting to note how adjusting to loss is like lifting weights. At first, the weight of my grief could only be measured in small increments---minutes, then hours, then, gradually, weeks. Now, I'm incredibly stronger. Today, my level of endurance is measured by years.

Each morning I wake up....stronger than yesterday because I survived another night. Nights are my most challenging, most vulnerable time. Alone in the dark--my memories gather to taunt me with sweet thoughts of happier times; of more hopeful yesterdays. I battle with myself to stop thinking. I use all my strength to exercise restraint. Blessed sleep is my most-valued salvation.

Learning to survive abandonment by those you gave life......is a living death. Yes, with enough time, acceptance becomes a pattern, a new way of living, but.....my great-big-loving heart will never stop asking "Why."

Stay Close,

Sally Miller

Latest comments

17.10 | 01:42

I miss being Facebook friends with you! Hope you are well and happy.

Tammy Brookover Jay

15.10 | 01:28

Love all of this. I'm so lucky to be your neighbor,

30.08 | 16:26

Sally, my friend, I love your writings and sometimes they make me cry and then smile. I love you as if I had known you all my life. God Bless you each and every day in all you do.

29.08 | 19:19

Lol, I loved reading this story! As a female that dated a couple men with Harleys, I totally understand and met Harley Guy myself, many times over!
I hope you get your 3wheels someday soon!

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