It’s the Little Things

My dad was his happiest when we lived in Oregon.

What if my dad heard a little piece of great advice, would that have prevented his suicide? What If questions can sure spiral out of control during the grief process, always analyzing different scenarios that could have happened with my dad.

I was watching a show the other day where a doctor sits down with celebrities and other high profile people discussing their health obstacles in life. During the interviews, 2 different people had battled with suicide. But in that moment of wanting to end it, someone stopped them. In one case, the person was ready to just end it. His mental health issue had just gone public and he was so shameful about it. He thought his career and life was over. While in his suicidal thoughts, trying to make a run for it out of the public eye, someone recognized him and thanked him for being open about his struggle. This stranger had the same mental health issue and struggled the same with it. In that moment, this celebrity had a life altering change of outlook in life. He realized he didn’t struggle alone. That many people struggled with the same disease he had. That helped him to move on and use his struggles to help others.

What if my dad was more open about his struggles? Some of his friends had no idea he was mentally struggling. Most were in complete shock. They knew he had health issues but didn’t know how it deeply affected him.

What if someone, either a stranger, family member, or friend, said the right thing and my dad changed his negative thoughts around? I feel guilt that I didn’t say the right things. I wanted to be the one that helped him out of his grief. But I couldn’t.

There’s a couple of hypocritical thoughts I have going on.

First and main thoughts are this: what if our simple connections with others could help save their life? A simple conversation, asking that person how they are doing and truly listening? What about reaching out to those that have a physical ailment, being a life long disease, cancer, etc. Anyone going through physical ailments ALL have mental issues associated with it. Most issues like depression and suicidal thoughts. It is not easy to keep going when your body is failing you and your brain is struggling to find a positive way out. Reach out to people. Even if it’s a simple text. You might even save someone’s life without even knowing it. Reach out to our aging generation. They are so lonely. They too are going through hardships. There body can’t move around like it used to. But their minds are still strong. I called a good friend of mine yesterday. She is 87! Her brain is sharper than mine! She was so very grateful that I thought of her.

Now to my hypocritical thought about my dad. What if this was the way it was supposed to end? That no good thought or no good deed to try and save him was going to help? I’ve had this thought since he passed away. I’ve felt that it was his time, regardless of how his life ended. What if I had to go through this grief struggle to help others? Or help myself? Still, I believe wholeheartedly that we still need to try and help. We still need to help others who are struggling. Why wouldn’t we? I feel like that’s just the humane thing to do. I would hope someone was thinking about me when my life was shattering around me. The joy we get in helping others is like no other. It lifts my spirits knowing I can help someone.

So come what may, but keep trying to help others, and you in turn will help yourself.



How Close to the Veil are They?

Like tethers raining down from Heaven, here to help us.

I think there’s a fine line, between Earth and Heaven, where our ancestors wait for us. Sometimes that veil opens a bit, for our ancestors to communicate to us.

I had a dream about my dad. It’s been such a long time since I dreamed of seeing him. In this dream, he appeared, and I knew I only had a little bit of time to give him a big hug and tell him I loved him, as my past dreams went. So I quickly made sure I was able to see him. He then told me there’s someone on Earth that watches over me. Almost like my dad’s chosen person to watch over me when he can’t. I knew he was going to leave my dream soon, so I asked with urgency who it was. ‘Dad, who is it? Who’s helping me?’ I had all these questions but knew there wasn’t enough time. He said, with a loving, patient smile, ‘I can’t tell you who it is. You don’t have the complete, or perfect, knowledge.’ My interpretation comes from my church. We are sent here, oblivious to the fact that we chose to come to Earth to complete our eternal mission. We don’t have that complete knowledge of God’s plan until after we pass through the veil to the other side: Heaven. We will then have all of our questions answered like, why were we here? Why did we have a mortal body and experience pain and happiness? If we had all of that information, and the full knowledge of the Lord’s plan, then what’s the point of being here? We only get to experience this Earthly life once. There’s things we just can’t know so that we can experience this earthly life on our own, making our own choices and decisions.

My dad has the full knowledge now. He knows why we had to go through this hard, earthly life. I feel like there’s many life lines and connections to all of us. Almost like invisible tethers that are connected to us from many souls in Heaven. Millions of small openings in the veil that help filter through help from the other side.

We don’t know exactly why we have to go through hard things. But we do have our Savior who went through pain for us. We have our guardian angels watching over us and with us even if we don’t feel them. They are there, always.

Just be kind. Everyone has their own faith and their own explanation. Mine might be different than yours. But we are are still worthy in God’s eyes for the many blessings he has for us.



Welcome back grief

It’s like my grief came back full circle. I reverted back to the first days and weeks after my dad died. I have felt all the emotions this last weekend.

Who (tries) to keep it together while portraying that everything is fine? 🙋🏼‍♀️ Who hides the grief so that they feel no one has to go out of their way to help? 🙋🏼‍♀️ Who wishes they don’t have to deal with this awful, annoying, frustrating, exhausting grief? 🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️

We were raised (in my generation at least) to hide feelings, and not reach out for help. If we ask for help, or talk about our struggles, we come off as whiny, and not strong enough. Changing those imbedded unhealthy coping skills is hard.

I don’t write about my struggles for sympathy. Actually, it’s hard to write about it at times, because I don’t want anyone to pity me. But I know I am being petty thinking that.

Saturday morning I felt that a grief tornado was coming. I thought I could hold it off, change the direction of the storm, by keeping busy. As we all know, when a storm comes into our lives, it does not leave until it touches down and does some damage.

I was working on my room, taking apart my bed. I was getting frustrated that I couldn’t take it apart. That’s when the tornado of grief touched down and the flood gates opened, so to speak. I absolutely, with all my might, could not stop crying.

Thoughts started running through my head. Thunderstorms of grief came clapping down like the noise of angry thunder. Just pounding in my head, the thoughts of, ‘why did you leave me? I am SO MAD at you!’ I may have used a hammer and laid into my bed frame. I was so angry that he left me! Was I not good enough? I laid on the ground just crying. My sweet boy who was helping me ran to get his daddy because he knew something was wrong. My husband came in and I couldn’t even explain what was wrong, in between my sobs. Then I was so mad that I couldn’t stop crying! I can be a tad stubborn too.

I propped myself up, tried to quiet the loud thunder in my head, and wrote what was on my mind. ‘Why? Why did you go? I mean I know you struggled. I wanted to help. I wanted my love to be good enough. Good enough to get you out of your funk. I wanted to be enough for you daddy. You taught me how to me a woman in a man’s world. You were so upset when I was harassed at a job site because I am a woman. Like I wasn’t good enough or smart enough to do engineering. Or construction jobs. You stuck up for me. So why wasn’t I good enough for you now? Why was my love for you not good enough that you had to leave? We still had so much time left. Time to talk about life. To tell you about all the things that I am doing, hoping you’d be proud of me. You never said I couldn’t do it, like mom did. You always rooted for me.’

I related to my dad. He was the one I talked to about life. He ALWAYS rooted for me no matter what. Once I told him I wanted to be a mechanic. His friend told me I wouldn’t last, but my dad didn’t. He really taught me how to be a woman in a man’s world. I went into mechanical engineering after high school. I was 1 of 5 girls in a class of 150 students. It was intimidating. But my dad had faith in me. He was proud of me.

So why did he leave? Was he not proud of me anymore? I so badly just want to call him and talk to him. Tell him I’ve been watching the civil war videos he used to watch on repeat when I was a kid. He even played the soundtrack in the truck whenever we had errands to run. Oh how annoying it was back then! He would just chuckle, knowing how many eye rolls I gave him and how many times I would say, ‘not again! We just watched this!’. I would give anything to watch those videos with him again.

Grief makes me angry. So angry. And it can be so very lonely. My family doesn’t understand what I am truly going through. No one truly knows the deep relationship my dad and I had. I don’t have that anymore. I don’t have my dad and it’s literally heartbreaking.

My eyes are swollen and my brain has been in a fog since this last weekend. But I can feel the storm lifting a little. There’s some light peaking through the storm clouds.

I share all of this vulnerable, dark side of grief because I don’t want anyone to feel alone. That popular quote we so often see, fits in well here: ‘Be kind. For everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.’

It’s so true. Be kind. When you see someone who’s a little rough around the edges, be kind. Or a mother out with her loud kids, be kind. And a senior citizen who looks lonely, be kind. We don’t know everyone’s story, but I can tell you most have a complicated one.

Just. Be. Kind. ❤️



5 years

How is it 5 years since my dad has been gone? I could never imagine what 5 years would even look like.

The first year was the hardest. So many emotions and questions. Years went on and the grief hit differently. Sometimes out of the blue, my conscience decides I need to grieve immediately. That’s not always pretty. Then sometimes I feel peace and I can feel my dad’s love. I’ve had many sweet, perfect visions and dreams of my dad. It’s sometimes hard to explain those without sounding sort of crazy, but I do know that our loved ones are closer to this veil of life then we think.

December 24, 2017 was the last time I spoke to my dad. He called me after he talked to his doctor. I found out the doctor told him that if he doesn’t see through with his last dose of hormone shots, his cancer would come back with a vengeance. He cried and went to his room. My mom has never seen him cry like that. Then the day after Christmas he told my mom not to worry about him, that he was fine and happy. Then he took his life within 24 hours of that conversation.

My sister and I lost our dad. My kids lost their grandfather. My mom lost her husband. My dad’s friends lost a great shooting buddy and great friendship.

This season was rough for me. I thought I was ok but again, my conscience did not want the grief to go unnoticed. Having sick kids meant I missed out on the Christmas celebrations. That’s one thing I look forward to every year, being around friends and family we don’t get to see often enough. Christmas dinner. Christmas games. All those things we do every year. I made the best of it, I truly did, but then my body said rest. I slept most of the day yesterday. I had no intention to leave my bed. But I got up, made soup for dinner and put away all the Christmas decorations. I needed to move on from the reminder that it just didn’t feel like Christmas to me. I put together furniture, which is like therapy to me.

Grieve the best you know how and don’t let anybody make you feel bad about it. Mine was staying in bed most of the day. We need to take care of ourselves and understand it’s different for everyone.

Hang in there!



Taboo Side of Grief

Grief is complicated. What if you miss the relationship that could have been? What if your relationship was not easy? It’s hard to put into words, this taboo side of complicated grief.

Most of my blog posts I paint a picture of how great my dad was. And how much I miss him. And how grateful I am for the values he taught me. While this is all very true, the dark and taboo side of this complicated grief is missing the dad and the grandpa that I wished he was.

It’s hard to write about this. But it’s also a side of grief that needs to be said. Because those suffering with this type of taboo feeling shouldn’t have to suffer in silence.

I’ve talked about all that my dad was, now I want to talk about what he was not. He was not affectionate. No hugs ever happened in my family growing up. Maybe a soft, tense hug when leaving family we would visit once a year. He was not a happy person by nature. He would never ask how my day was or what I did that day at school. He always grumbled about work and politics. His blood pressure was high because of all the yelling at the tv over politics or the stress from work. We was so moody. He had no patience. He did not play with his grandkids. Honestly, I don’t think he knew how to form a bond with them, sort of like how it was hard to form a bond with his own kids.

Bonding. That was hard for my dad to do. He didn’t know how. He didn’t have any examples of what it’s like to bond with your children. He didn’t have any good father role models growing up. The ones he did have, weren’t in his life much or just didn’t want to be bothered. So when I came along 12 years after my sister, I think he wanted to change that bonding experience. My dad worked nights when my sister was young, so it was hard to build a relationship. I realize that the bonding he did with me was maybe not normal. I laugh when I think about it. We bonded over reloading bullets at a young age. We bonded over shooting in the desert. We bonded over working on cars. Even though I cherished those times we had together, those were things HE loved. He didn’t try and understand what I might like or what my hobbies were. But he tried to bond with me regardless.

The point here is not to tell a story of all the things my dad didn’t do. We all have things we don’t do or wish we could do. It’s just who we are. It’s hard to change the generational chains of trauma when it’s engraved in us. It’s learned traits from our childhood. I struggle as an adult with things I learned as a child. My dad taught me, by example, to be impatient. To be negative. To be angry. To stress over things I can’t control.

One of the most important things we can do in our grief journey is to learn forgiveness and how to incorporate that into our lives. It’s an ongoing process. I have to intentionally forgive my dad for all the things I wished he did for me. But I will continually praise him for his efforts. He was present, and he tried.

Everyone is on their own journey in life. We will never be good enough for other people. And that is ok! Love yourself, love your journey, and keep trying!

Do I wish my dad was different? Do I wish we had a better relationship? Yes I do wish those things. But I am still so grateful for him.

So that’s the thing. Give people credit for trying. Are you struggling with a family relationship? Work on forgiveness. Check your expectations. Are they too high? Having high expectations put on any relationship (friends, family, spouse, kids, coworkers….) will just leave you with sorrow. We are human and we are trying. Some days are better than others. Give each other grace.

I used to grieve all the things my dad wasn’t. I expected him to be a fun grandpa who would play with my kids, take them places, read to them. But he wasn’t. Did he try, even if it was just him pushing them on the swing? Yes! He tried and that’s what matters. So don’t get angry at others when they aren’t doing good enough in your eyes. I have a strong testimony that my dad in Heaven is free to be who he really wanted to be. How do I know this? While visiting the temple, I had a vision that my dad was laughing and playing with his grandchild. A grandchild that wasn’t able to be born on this Earth. He was holding her and laughing, looking back at me saying, ‘I’ve got this. I am taking care of her’. ❤️❤️



My Dad Chose Suicide

Some of my Dad’s loves: His garden and his gun trophies. I remember this day. He had gotten home from his shooting competition one Saturday. He gave me the camera and asked me to go outside with him so he could get a picture of himself holding his cherished trophy in front of his cherished garden. I laughed a little thinking, “Dad, why do I have to do this?! It seems silly!” I am so happy I went along with that silly picture. Now I cherish it. He was so happy. It breaks my heart that he wasn’t happy the last months of his life.

‘Committed Suicide’ does not sit right with me. I have never been able to say that phrase. Just like we make choices in life, my dad made the awful, heartbreaking choice to end his life.

We have free agency in this life. We make choices everyday. Good or bad, we make them. Our parents hope we make the right decisions. I hope my kids can make good choices in life. But the way we learn is to add some bad choices in this life. We can learn from our mistakes. I believe my dad knew he made the wrong choice but it was too late. Did he just make that split second choice to end his life? He got the gun from the safe, leaving it open. That makes me believe it was quick, without much thought. But had he gotten the gun and tried before? We don’t know. But I feel in my heart he didn’t mean to leave us.

I had a dream within a few weeks of my dads death. I was in the back of the church, singing hymns. I saw him appear behind the chairs. He was looking frantic, scared, and confused. It seemed like he didn’t know where he was. He was rushing around looking for me. While seeing him so distraught, I kept yelling for him, ‘Dad! Dad!! I am here!’ I was now frantically trying to get his attention. I kept yelling for him but he couldn’t hear or see me. No one else was able to see him but me. After a few minutes of us both panicking, wishing we would see and hear each other, my grandma appears like an angel above him. Almost like a portal opening up, I could only see her face and arm reaching out for him. She grabbed his outstretched arm and pulled him through the veil, so to speak. And then they vanished. Like a mothers love, she took him away from his pain. Guided him to safety of the afterlife. She had been waiting for him. It was almost like he was stuck. Frantically trying to find his way back to his body and this earthly life. I don’t think he realized how bad of a choice he made that day his soul left this Earth. Until it was too late.

The phrase, ‘committed suicide’ sounds so cold and sterile. Like a morgue in the hospital. Everyone walking around somber and sad. Oxford Languages states that the definition of committed is, ‘feeling dedication and loyalty to a cause, activity, or job; wholeheartedly committed.’ If I know anything about suicide, feeling dedication and loyalty to ending ones life does not describe the act of suicide! Yes, there are those that think about suicide a lot. It can consume them. I have been there. And I have witnessed my dad sad and depressed. Most people who are suicidal are trying to find ways to NOT think about it. They are trying to find happiness and help for their depression. They are definitely not feeling any love towards the thought of suicide! It’s like an unwanted entity that just floats around you. You just want it to leave. But it has its way of convincing you that suicide is the way to go. There’s no dedication to this awful, conniving entity.

So can we change it to, he chose suicide? I feel like that makes it more personal. In a compassionate way. Saying, ‘After dealing with cancer side effects for months, leaving him malnourished, skinny, and exhausted, he chose suicide.’ Doesn’t that give it some compassion? Or that it sounds like he is human? We are all human, meaning we all struggle and make mistakes. Some of those mistakes are from bad choices. But we as humans can repent and forgive ourselves, learn from our unhealthy choices, and hopefully learn to choose better for ourselves.

I will say this over and over. My dad tried to get help. He tried to make the right choices. But I don’t think he was equipped to know what to do when he had shameful struggles. I think most can relate. I am an open book when it comes to suicide and what my dad went through. But there’s other things in my life that I don’t feel I need to open up about. And that’s ok! But as long as we can have someone to confide in, share with, and learn how to climb these struggle mountains, then I think we are on the right track to making good choices for ourselves. Educate yourself. There’s a plethora of self help books, online counseling, and guidance online that can help us through our hard times. Do it for yourself to get help. You deserve it the most.



When Grief hits HARD

I had a breakdown for the first time in years. Nothing like it except for those breakdowns in the first months after my dad’s death. I was a sloppy, snotty, heap of mess on my bedroom floor.

Some things are better off not talked about. Or so we think. I am admitting that I am human and my breakdown was ugly. But it was real, raw, emotional, and to be honest, much needed.

It was a hard day dealing with the actions of one of my kids. We are in the process of getting him help, but in the mean time, we are truly doing the best we can with the resources given to us. I am also in the process of trying, again, to get VA benefits for my mom that I feel is rightfully hers. It was an overwhelming day. A family member And I were discussing options, along with frustrations, and at one point in our conversation, he said, ‘you are fighting for your dad.’ I instantly felt a lump in my throat with tears to follow. I wiped away the tears and finished the conversation. I made sure my kids were content (they had their kindles, so they were content for awhile!) and I went to my room and locked the door. I immediately let it all out. I cried and sobbed. I was a rocking, ball of a mess on my bedroom floor. I felt so much heartache and loss at that moment. I felt the devastating hole of grief left in my soul. It was like I found out my dad died all over again. Between my sobs, I cried for my dad. I told him I wanted him here. I missed him so much! I just wanted to call him and chat with him.

I have a couple saved voicemails from him. I downloaded and saved them so I will always be able to hear his voice. I haven’t played them at all. I would lose it if I did. Finally, after 4 and a half years, I played them. The first voicemail was my dad calling me to see how my father in law was doing (he had recently had major back surgery at that time). I could hear the happiness in his voice. He loved my father in law. They were both navy veterans who served in Vietnam. My dad had so much compassion for people, dispite his gruff exterior. A gentle giant my father in law would say. I played that message a few more times. It felt so good to hear his voice. The next message wasn’t as chipper. This voicemail was a month or two before he passed. He was depressed and I could hear it in his voice. He was calling to just talk. He was so defeated at the end. He didn’t have a will you live. We all thought he would get better after his hormone shot wore off. There were so many If Only’s I started thinking about. If only he had patience and waited for his next drs appt. If only he would take depression medication. If only he would start feeling better.

During this ugly grief episode, I dropped to my knees to pray. I couldn’t even put into words what was going on in my head. I just didn’t know what to do anymore. So many thoughts coming back from those first vulnerable months. I was just asking for help. Help to get through this. Help to feel peace again. Help to ease my pain of missing him. Then I looked over at my phone, and saw that my sister was calling me. Thank goodness. It was good to hear her voice and to listen about her day.

Fast forward a couple days later. I was still feeling exhausted from my grief. I was burned out. I felt like my prayers weren’t answered. But I should know that God always answers our prayers, in His timing.

I had a spa day with friends. It was my best friends birthday. She tried getting us into different spas but they were booked. She finally found a spa we could all go too. As I am waiting for my massage, a familiar face peeks into the waiting room I was in, calling me for my massage. As soon as we both enter the hallway, we just stare at each other, smiling. Then we gave each other the biggest hug. It was my dad’s best friend’s ex wife. I grew up going to their garage to reload bullets with my dad, attend parties where my dad did his crazy seizure dance on the dance floor, swimming, and where I babysat her girls. She asked how is it that we are here at this moment, and she happens to be the one giving my massage?! I believe that was the answer to my prayers. We ended up talking the whole time about my dad and our families. It was so amazing to experience that moment.

Later that afternoon I got a call from my dads best friend. We talked about how bizarre it was that I got his ex wife of all people to give me a massage. He said he had even more bizarre details to add. He was in his garage, and put some music on that he hadn’t listened to for awhile. It happened to be my dad’s favorite song. He got to thinking about my dad and reminiscing about the fun times they had over the years. After awhile he ended up going through his phone contacts. He got to my dad’s number and decided to call it. Just on a whim. He probably wanted to hear his voice just like I did a few days previously. His daughter went to the garage to find him and said, ‘Guess who mom is massaging?! Sarah Bruska!’ What a bizarre chain of events! And this all happened at the same time, about 1:30 in the afternoon.

I think my dad knew we both needed to talk to someone about my dad. And laugh about the stories we had of him. I am grateful for that moment I had.

I don’t think we are meant to live in perfect harmony and peace the rest of our lives. I think we are meant to figure out who we are, what we stand for, and how to enjoy the little things. We will have many hardships in our lives. Past, present, and many in our future. It does not let up in this life. Sounds depressing. But to me, it sounds like an adventure. I am growing and evolving into this person God wants me to be and in this time we live in. We are all here for a purpose, in people’s lives for a reason, whether we understand it or not. Sometimes I have no idea why I have to go through hardships, or why others have to go through troubling times in their lives. I do know that it is apart of life and we have to learn to cope! How do we cope? Lean on others. Find a support system. Enjoy the little things that life does have to offer.

I will never stop fighting for my dad. I will continue to tell his story. He absolutely wouldn’t want others to suffer in silence like he did.



Elderly Suicide, A Shocking Epidemic

Waiting to eat my birthday cake with my grandparents.

According to an article on AAMFT, “Older adults make up 12% of the US population, but account for 18% of all suicide deaths. This is an alarming statistic, as the elderly are the fastest growing segment of the population, making the issue of later-life suicide a major public health priority.” 

Wow. What is going on here? I never realized, before my dad, that so many elderly men and women are taking their lives. From most articles I’ve read, family members and those closest to the victims had no signs, no inclination that this could happen to their loved ones.

There is a growing number of suicides in senior group homes. They are feeling more depressed, more lonely, and less capable of doing things they used to do. My grandparents were put into a group home when I was young. We visited them almost every weekend. As I was getting into middle school, I didn’t really want to go see them. I thought it was boring, they never remembered who I was, and they thought I was a little child, bringing me stuffed animals. I cringe now, knowing that I had the wrong attitude. It was always a sad place. Many of them were in wheelchairs parked in front of the tv. Some couldn’t talk or use the restroom by themselves. Some did and said weird things. Looking back, I wish I would have gone more to see my grandparents, and talk with the other residents. They don’t get many visitors, if any at all. These are the people that raised us, provided for us, and helped us become healthy, happy adults. I wish I would have given them more of my time, getting to know them.

I think there’s so much hidden and underreported depression in the older populations. As we grow older, its physically harder to do the things we once enjoyed doing. That can make a person more home bound, more lonely. What can we do to help? Visiting with them. Even if its only for 10 minutes once a week. Call and check in. Maybe even send a letter or a card once a month, letting them know that we are thinking of them.

What can the older population do for themselves? Reach out when feeling depressed and lonely. No one needs to suffer in silence. There’s so many people that can help. Have a positive attitude. Get involved with senior events.

Don’t forget to reach out to your older neighbor, friend, and grandparents. They will appreciate it more than you will know.




The definition of perseverance from Oxford languages states, “persistence in doing something despite difficulty or delay in achieving success.” I feel like that’s the definition of life! Life is hard, difficult, frustrating. But we can not be fearful of those difficult times. It makes us stronger and gives us confidence to persevere over the next hurdle of life.

Enduring the trials in life is the hard part. But we have to understand that those tsunami waves of grief and trials will eventually die down. The storm will calm and so will we.

Being a mom to 7 kids 13 and under is not easy! People often ask me how remain so calm and how I am able to move on from what seems like difficult periods in our kids’ lives. Like sicknesses that just run through all our kids. Hospital visits. Heck, shopping with all of them! I’ve definitely been through a lot and learned a lot. We’ve dealt with (and continue to) deal with health problems that our kids are experiencing. One of our kids only has one kidney. Another was born with many unrelated birth defects. We’ve seen so many specialists. What I am trying to say is that it will all pass. We have always persevered and gotten through it. So I’ve learned to have patience and just take it for what it is. This trial soon shall pass. We have to look for those rays of sunshine. Even if it’s small. A walk in the park, drinking your favorite soda, going out with a friend. We will always have trials, that’s just the way of life. We can enjoy those sunshine moments and cherish them.

I’ve relied on Heavenly Father and my family and friends for support. Heavenly Father has never left my side. He is right next to me when that huge grief wave hits. He stands afar like a proud but protective Father during the calm waters of life. I see his inner workings in my life and others.

I am proud of my journey. I have learned and grown so much. I spoke about my dad’s suicide in church recently one Sunday. I never thought I could actually use the phrase over the pulpit, ‘my dad died by suicide’. I couldn’t even say that word the first couple years. I would cringe every time I hear the word (still do). But I felt confident enough to finally say it. Even though it’s taboo, it really shouldn’t be. It’s real. And it effects everyone and every denomination.

A friend posted a wise quote the other day. It said, “I am strong because I’ve been weak. I am fearless because I’ve been afraid. I am wise because I’ve been foolish”.

We all have to start somewhere. I have been weak, afraid, and foolish many times in my life. We are able to see our past and learn from it. I am no where near perfect, and we shouldn’t judge others that are on their own journey. If you’ve been knocked down from grief, depression, and other trials, then you know how hard it can be to experience those dark waves of life. So why not help others that you see are struggling. We shouldn’t have to suffer alone.



Pictures of my Dad and I

I was going through pictures and needed to have a place for them that I can look back on. And if it’s digital, even better because then I won’t lose it. Ha!

We went on so many hikes and camped a lot. He loves the outdoors so much.

He was a hard worker.

He loved my sister and I and were so proud of us.

Miss you dad! I remember the last time I saw you and gave you a hug goodbye. It wasn’t the strong hug that I was used to. It felt weak and dreary. Probably how he was feeling too. Emmy ran up and gave him a hug. So sweet. If I would have known that was the last time I would see him, I don’t think I would have let go. I would have told him that I am grateful for him and all the sacrifices he made for us. I would tell him thank you for always supporting me and talking with me. I miss you! I wish I could call you and talk. I miss our chats.