The Therapy Journals of the Fat-Headed Klingon Woman

One woman's journey to becoming Her True Self

A Sad Day July 12, 2019

Hello, all. It’s been a tough week. This week I experienced a first in my almost 47 years on this earth. Last Saturday night I was sitting in a lawn chair in my parents’ driveway, watching fireworks, holding my uncle’s hand and talking to him, hugging him goodbye when he and my aunt left, and the next afternoon he was dead.


I’ve lost people before. Of course I have. But never someone I was just talking to and having fun with the day before. I mean, I knew he wasn’t well. He was on oxygen and was really struggling with his breathing that night, but none of us could have known he was in such danger.


My family is a very loving one. Even if we don’t see each other for months at a time, (a fact made somewhat more pitiful by the realization that we live in the same county) we still love each other and enjoy seeing each other. I feel very blessed by that. Last Saturday night was an example. It was a throwback to the days when we had big family gatherings at my parents’ house, with aunts, uncles, and cousins from both sides of the family. We’d eat, maybe grill burgers or make a huge pot of spaghetti. Then afterwards we’d have watermelon and homemade ice cream and pop fireworks until late into the evening.


That’s what we were doing that night. Not everyone was there- but a few family members from both sides made it feel like the old days for the first time in a long time: simple, homemade country joys, shared with at least part of a loving family.


Then today, the rest of that family were all together for the first time in ages, as we said goodbye to my uncle. His service was in the church we all grew up in, with congregational acapella singing. That was one of the best and yet hardest parts for me. My aunt and uncle sat behind us for years in church, and many of the songs they chose to sing today were my uncle’s favorites and I could hear his singing so clearly in my mind. Afterwards, the police stopped traffic for us when we had to leave the church and get on the highway that runs through town. My uncle’s youngest son rode honor guard on his motorcycle.


But the part that struck me, one of the things I loved the most, was the way all the traffic on the roads pulled over and stopped until we passed. It’s such a small thing, and I guess maybe it’s not done in all parts of the country, but the comfort I felt from seeing that show of respect can hardly be described. It made me feel proud to have grown up here. I wished that I could have said thank you to all those people who had taken time out of their day, stopped for a moment in their busy schedules, to sit by the roadside as we followed my uncle to his final resting place.


As lovely and comforting as that was, though, it was nothing…*nothing* compared to the comfort of knowing my uncle was a Christian, and having an utterly firm conviction that he was in paradise at that very moment. I honestly never realized it before, because at the times of other losses, either I was too young to really think about it or appreciate it, or I unfortunately could not be absolutely certain the people I had lost were in a saved condition. Today, I knew. I knew without question that my uncle was literally in a better place. There is nothing that compares to the joy that comes from that certainty.


Now, I know all of this gets into religion and theology or whatever, and not everyone shares the same beliefs and convictions. I am not even the most churchy person myself at the moment, but today made me want to start living my life better. It reminded me, as funerals always do, I guess, that someday this life will be over, and all I know is that I want to go to heaven. I want to have my poor fragile physical body exchanged for a spiritual heavenly body that will never get sick or broken. I want to spend eternity in the presence of Jesus, singing and worshipping God and walking streets of gold.


I know this feeling may not last. This inspiration, this determination. It never does. Death happens, losses happen, and they make you think. And then the sadness goes away a little, the thoughts and introspection fade and you get caught up in the busy-ness of life again until the next loss happens. But maybe I can make it stick around and get back to how I was raised, going to church more often and trying to live a better life. I hope I can. I’m going to try, anyway.


Until next time,


PS. I have another family member, a cousin who was in a terrible motorcycle wreck. He could use some financial help if he is to make a full, long recovery. Here (I hope) is a link to his GoFundMe:


2 Responses to “A Sad Day”

  1. debbie Rose Says:

    this is awesome you have such a gift from God. You expressed so much of what I am feeling.

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