Coaching

Close up of spring flowers.

First Mother’s Day After Losing Her to Alzheimer’s

I cried for the whole woman who now resides in the memories of the hundred or so people at her funeral. I cried a bit out of respect for her life, independent of mine, for her friends, passions, accomplishments, joys, and fears. I cried for muddy ground at her graveside and for my Dad, weak from life and caring, standing at attention as the Doxology cracked the mist and her casket was lowered to its place of rest.

A lineup of Weeble toy's

Weebles Wobble & Sometimes Life Sucks

Friday was anything but perfect. I got angry, cried a bit, and was frustrated up the wazoo, but in the end, I circled back to the idea that this was happening, or to be more specific, had happened. And all my whining would never change it.
Far better to weigh in on empathy, curiosity, creativity, and focused action (those Sage traits I’ve talked about). So, I leaned in that direction.

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