Thanks, My Ancestors Appreciate It

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I hit fifty followers yesterday, an amount so humbling to me. I mean, wow. You know, I started this blog as a way to put into words who I was and what I was going through as a widow. They are the same reasons I continue the blog. It is raw. It is honest. It breaks some rules of grammar. And it heals me. It some odd way, it does heal me. I am honored people have connected to it, whatever it may be, so thank you.

I’m not sure if I had a choice in writing this blog, not really. My father once told me his family came from a long line of foreboding, whoa-is-me people, going all the way back to his ancestors in Poland. He would tell stories of his sad Uncle So-and-So, or his sensitive Aunt This-or-That. He said it was part of his clan’s makeup as people. That the genes running through his family and passed down for generations, were the ones that made his family, thus me, think deep and feel hard…most of us anyway. And I will say this, he wasn’t wrong. We cry easy, laugh easier and always have some profound thought buzzing through out brains like hornets in their nests. Well, profound to us. We just do.

My family is made up very feeling, deep souls. It seems, we look at the world differently, some family members more than others, but most of us. We aren’t selfish with our feelings as they are projected onto, empathetically, others. And we have this need to be fed our souls through conversations, reading, documentaries, anything where something has meaning. I can turn it off sometimes, for a long time and be frivolous and care-free, but it’s never where I want to stay. As Peter told me, my mind is always going places, thinking things most people don’t. He didn’t always understand as I didn’t always get how he could be so laid back. But we did compliment each other well, maybe equalized each other.

Oh, the thoughts and feelings in this blog are mine, yet, sometimes, I feel as if I am channeling my relatives. It’s as if, when I write, I can see the nods of their approval or comfort in knowing they understand. I feel my father, a prolific writer, urging me to get it all down in words, to express myself – as if I had a choice to keep it any of this in, with his blood running through my veins.

The reason I tell you all of this today is because I want than you, the fifty of you and more, for your support of my blog. I know, sometimes, they can be depressing to read. To be honest, they can be depressing to write. Yet, I always want to leave a hope in them, however little. Truly. I do know they are always honest for its how I write them. I hope I hold you here, on this road of grief with me, as I keep on purging. It’s not my main purpose. Maybe it’s not my purpose at all. But it is always nice to have people on a journey with me, besides my ancestors.

So, please, hit follow if you are reading this, if you haven’t already. I am always happy to welcome more. I’m gracious that way. (Insert smiley face.) And always feel free to leave comments. I would love to hear from you, your own journey, your thoughts on mine. And thank you again for reading this one and all the others. I cannot tell you how much it means to me on this journey of widowhood.