fading spiral

My favorite part of a giant’s fall is the feathery billow of dust that follows the skull-crushing thud.

@Michaeljos92972 This is beautiful. You’ll be such a blessing to others, Michael.

PAYING IT FORWARD. by Michael Whelan Yesterday the doctor, nurse, social worker and chaplain from hospice came by to check on me. They’ve continued doing that ever since Rebecca died. But yesterday felt different. I live near SeaWorld in Orlando, and they shared something that stunned me. Within just a 7.1 mile radius of my home, there are currently 61 people in home hospice care. Sixty-one souls. Behind each closed door is a family trying to hold itself together. A husband helping his wife breathe easier. A wife learning how to lift the man she loves. Sons. Daughters. Caregivers quietly carrying exhaustion, fear and heartbreak while still finding the strength to whisper, “I’m here.” We never truly know what someone is going through. That’s why kindness matters. Compassion matters. Mercy matters. Then the conversation turned deeply personal. The doctor and my nurse told me that in their combined 15 years working hospice, they had never seen someone care for their spouse the way I cared for Rebecca. They said I had everything down to a science. Medications. Positioning. Comfort. Schedules. Emergencies. Advocacy. Love. The truth is… it almost cost me my own life. But Rebecca was the love of my life, and I would have walked through fire for her. Then they asked me something I never expected. Would I be willing to spend 1-2 days a month helping teach and support caregivers throughout our area? It didn’t take me long to answer. YES. Starting next month, I’ll be doing my best to help other caregivers and families navigate one of the hardest journeys life can place in front of us. I consider it an honor. I consider it a privilege. In life, we must always pay it forward. And sometimes the deepest pain we survive becomes the very thing that allows us to help someone else survive theirs.

Stay warm and dry today, race fans! My heart is in Indiana 🏁

No matter how many years I am away from it, I’m always sad I’m not in Indianapolis preparing to go to the race tomorrow.

Brand new leaves, shocking green, against a greystone sky.

Trading for the Weenie 500 and not getting the Freedom 100 is a travesty. I don't want hot dogs on a race track. I want race cars. #Freedom100 #Indy500

I’m very sorry I even mentioned that utter waste of time. I thought it would be whimsical and cute but it was nothing but relentless genitalia jokes followed instantly by a live tribute to Kyle Busch.

I’ve seen many stupid things in life, but this may top them all.

It’s time for the Weenie 500 😂

I’m grateful but at the same time I’m uneasy.

Mild injuries are teachers. It’s hard to find my optimism as a broken bird. Healing stronger than before is the single objective, then becoming ever stronger after that.

My favorite thing about people is when they are willing to tell me everything they think about everything. I’m able to weed out the really vile ones and I’m able to learn so much from the greatest thinkers and wonderers.

There are many reasons to be silent.

If only it were grey and foggy and pouring down rain.

We live on a planet where trees communicate, octopuses dream, elephants honor their dead, bees dance to find their way, crows remember, ants build, cats heal with their purring, and the forest, after the fire, blooms again.

Controversial position, but I like being a mom. It's good.

I adored the entire process of having children and staying home to raise and care for them. When it was painful, when it was hard, I still knew I was doing important work.

When I close my eyes, there is a picked-from-the-yard springtime Sunday bouquet delivered with such joy from my child’s little hands. There is a clamoring for me to make breakfast, and I do, every day, because there is nothing sweeter than this.

All of my extraterrestrial jokes are falling flat with the people who live with me.

I dread the thought of my birthday coming up. Its starting to feel like my winter holidays depression. I try to remember the person I was, so eager to celebrate these times, so full of joy over them. But I can’t find her.

A quiet friend had a nap in the yard today. I found something to do elsewhere.