Dear daughter,

Please forgive me.

There’s a fire in you that I fear. 🔥

It’s similar to one that I once had.

Before they told me to turn it down.

Before they said the heat was too much, too bright, too wild.

Back when it roared and crackled and glowed from my amber eyes…

Before, one by one, they came with their buckets, filled with water… reducing that fire to the smoky embers of this adulthood that I now live.

Forgive my shortcomings, dear daughter.

When you were first born, I proudly announced:

“She’s mischievous and curious! There’s a twinkle in her eye!”

When you were a toddler, I proudly gloated:

“She marches to the beat of her own drum! She’s a real spitfire!”

• 

• 

• 

• 

When you were five, I caught you lost deep in thought and asked “What are you thinking about?”

Looking at me, our pupils locked in, you said, “There are kingdoms in my mind.”

I was floored.

And impressed.

And

I was scared.

Later that year, you graduated Kindergarten and danced down the aisle with your diploma.

“She’s a spicy one.” I posted on Facebook.

Then the years began to stack up on us. Both of us, daughter.

And naturally, your fire grew.

And you came home with stories…

Attempts made to dim your flame,

Requests that you just turn down the roar of it to a meer smolder.

And I grew more afraid of this attention.

“Maybe you can just contain it, daughter?”

“Maybe you just glow less while you’re in school?”

“Sit up straight. No elbows on the table.”

“Tell a teacher.”

“Stay out others’ business.”

“Don’t be a hero.”

“Fix your hair.”

“Smile more.”

“Be nice.”

And soon, I was the person in your life carrying not one, but two buckets of water. Frantic. Ready to extinguish the twinkling flame that I so proudly recognized the day you were born.

Forgive me, my girl. There is something in you that I could not handle myself.

And so I got scared.

Maya Angelou says. “When you know better, you do better.”

I know now, while you may carry a similar flame as I once did, you are more fierce than I ever was or ever will be.

And God chose you to handle this bright, wild power. And God chose me to support you through your discovery of it.

Not to protect you from it.

And certainly not to extinguish it.

(Or ask you just to glow on Saturdays)

Some parents helicopter their children externally. They follow them on the playground. They obsessively check their temperature. They safety proof every nook of their home.

We’ve been different. Haven’t we?

The two introverts. The empaths. The intuitive feelers with the sassy mouths and this damn refusal to accept anything but the best in people.

How do you safety proof a mind?

…You know better, you do better,

and I am here to say:

There is nothing wrong with wanting to own every atom of the power that you possess, and there’s nothing g wrong with asking the same of others, Queen Lydia. I accept all of the kingdoms in your mind. No more helicopter. No more dimming the glow. No more fear.

Last year, I told God: I’m letting go, so I can fly.

Today, I say the same to Him:

God, I’m letting go, so she can fly 🦅

I love you, my mischievous, curious, spitfire, twinkling, roaring, girl.

Thank you for all you’ve taught me.

Xo Mom

It’s a hard truth that a percentage of us know all too well.

We don’t live forever.

In fact, some don’t make it to parenthood, while others are lost far too soon while their children are still young. In my case, my late husband, Scott, passed away suddenly in a car accident at the age of 37. Our children were 2, 4, and 7 at the time.

None of us saw it coming.

Over the years, I’ve considered what’s been helpful for our three kids and what I wish he and I would’ve known.

Parents, you will not live forever, and if you die young, there are things your children will need. Again, its a hard truth, and I don’t want to be the one to talk about it… but it needs to be out there in a Google search somewhere for you to find; Maybe you’ve had a health scare recently, or you’ve been blindsided with the loss of someone close; and it’s got you thinking about mortality…maybe you’re just a preparer (like I am now), whatever brings you here…

Here are some suggestions from a widow who’s lived it…

1. Get Life Insurance: Maybe you think it’s just for people with money. Maybe you’d prefer to spend the money on the here and now. Been there. But life insurance is the greatest way to ensure your children and spouse are cared for in your absence. Scott and I did not have it for most of our marriage, then five days before he was killed, he told me that he took out a policy. I was quite immature back then and refused the conversation when he brought it up. He said: I know it’s uncomfortable, but if something happens, you and the kids will be ok. Sell the house and take care of the finances. (So take Scott’s advisement: get the life insurance and TALK about these things no matter the discomfort they give) … which leads me to number two…

2. Start a Will: Again, some may think that this is something for people with money, right? Nah.

Take for instance:

Do you own a home? Ok. Who’s going to get that? I am only familiar with my home state of Michigan, so check your local laws, but in Michigan, without a will and if there’s not another name on the house, it will go into probate, which means the state basically takes management of the property until it’s decided that there’s a competent executor of the deceased estate. Believe me, as a widow and recovering realtor, this is not a fun process; And considering that your loved ones will be grieving, they may not have the energy to pursue a home in probate… losing the asset all together. This is only one example of why.

Things just happen.

Start a will.

3. Write a love letter. Write it now, add to it later if you need to. Write multiple over time if you wish, but one thing I cannot tell you enough:

Write a letter to your children.

Tell them what makes them special. Why they make you smile. How you felt upon first seeing them, and what you hope for them. Give them all the life advice that comes to you. As my children grow into their formative years, this is a huge desire of there’s. I cannot tell you how many of their tears I’ve dried over the absence of his fatherly advice. Please do so.

3b. Record your voice. Hey… while feeling the ink on paper and seeing your handwriting and the labor of love is it’s own experience for your children, if writing is not your thing, try sound recording your words. We only have a few voicemails of Scott’s and a few videos, but they’re precious. Could you imagine if he’d recorded himself talking to the kids and his advice and the other items above? Invaluable.

4. Get in the photos. We see blogs about this all of the time. Moms not in photos because they’re the ones taking them. Dads have this issue too. When you die, all the photos taken up to the point are it. The desire for “more” never ends for your loved ones, so do it. Cooking dinner, cheering in the living room at Sunday night of football, ordinary stuff. Don’t be shy. Take the pictures and ask your spouse to take them too.

5. One HUGE way my children feel connected to their father is through music. Make some playlists. It’s so simple, but for my son Jaxson, who has no true memories of his dad, he LOVES listening to his dad’s favorite bands and artists and shares a lot of similar interests.

6. Work/Life balance. You may not want to hear this. You may notice it already, as your kids grow… that they’re only young once and us missing things, overworking ourselves or not being present when we are home… means we are not creating the memories that they cling to when we’re gone. Working hard is a great example, but being there to create the memory is what it’s all for. I’m not suggesting you quit your job. I’m only saying: Make the time.

And while you’re at it, take a picture and record it in your letter 🙂

You are, after all, leaving a legacy in them. 🌱

Remember, life is hard whether we live it or not, might as well live.

Big love, Meg

1. Life is not meant to be taken seriously. Things are way simpler than we make them. It’s not life that makes it difficult, it’s our minds that complicate everything.

2. If you love someone, show them.

3. Take people for what they say. If they break their word, take them for their actions. Do not read into the meaning of anything more. If someone says they want to do something for you, believe it. If they act unloving, believe that too. Be in the moment. When it comes to predicting someone else, there’s no such thing as a step ahead.

4. Fixating on the past is one of the worst things that we can do for our spirit.

5. Figure it out. No one will solve our problems for us. It is up to us to problem solve.

6. Guard your time like you guard your life.

7. Everyone has something to contribute.

8. There’s no greater honor on earth than being a parent.

9. If someone wants you in their life, it will be clear. Priorities show.

10. Being good at something is the least of our worries. It’s enjoying the thing that matters most.

11. Show up. Every day.

It’s not how long we live but how well we live that matters.

Seneca

5 Things that I’ve Learned in the 5 Years Since You’ve Been Gone…

1. Anger gives us energy. It will be your greatest fuel in the times you need it. It serves a purpose, but if we allow it to fuel us for too long, it will turn into other things. Like bitterness. Anger is good. Bitter is not. And only your spirit knows when it’s time to let go.

2. Justice is an illusion in this world. It is not a power that the flawed human being can carry out. And while we will never witness true justice here on earth, there is one force that can deliver it. I have made peace with this and fully trust God to know something that I don’t and to deliver what He sees fit.

3. Forgiveness is a letting go of control of outcome and of other people’s choices. That’s all I know for sure about that.

4. People will use others’ tragedies for a lot of things… clout, agenda, salicious gossip. One thing I’ve seen the most of though is distraction; we, as people, become caught up in others’ tragedies or problems to distract us from dealing with our own life’s tragedies, problems, and issues. Healing ourselves should always be the goal – before we could ever hope to help others.

5. Loneliness is the biggest threat to the soul. When we are lonely, our souls attract dark, dingy energies. I.e. We attract bad people. Ironically enough, the only cure to loneliness is being alone. Learning to enjoy our own company and getting to know ourselves is the only way to defeat this extreme danger to our soul.

**It should be noted that I could never have come to these conclusions had I not had the experience of being married to Scott. I could not love again without having loved and been loved by him. I could not enjoy life the way that I do now had he not lived the way that he did. The guilt I once felt for this has now turned into immense gratitude. And I write about this in my next blog, but while I have learned so much since this loss, I also learned a lot while he was here too. 

If you feel so compelled to share, please do. What’s mine is yours. Take what works and leave the rest.

Big love,

Megan

It was a not-so-secret, secret.

I tried hiding it in photos, but it’d show up here and there.

If you asked me then, I would tell you that I wasn’t a smoker.

I’d say it was only when I drank.

I’d say it was only because I worked in the service industry.

I’d point out that at least I didn’t smoke while I was pregnant.

At least it was not in front of the kids.

I’m probably going to die from cancer anyways.

“I like smoking. I enjoy it.”

“I can quit any time.”

And I sort of did quit after my son was born in 2014, but if I drank, one would soon find me outside, socializing the smoker’s circle.

Then, tragedy hit my life in a way that no one could’ve foreseen. It still takes my breath away to stop and think about it. Within hours, I had a Marlboro Light in between my fingers. I didn’t even try to hide it. Parents. Kids. Whatever. No disappointment or disdain from the outside could ever come close to the anguish I felt. I hurt so deeply that I yearned to be in control of that pain.

Smoking was a symptom of this mindset.

It was a killing of myself with the slow death of tobacco. The bottom fell out of my life, I had been repeatedly forced into silence over it, and I couldn’t get angry. I subconsciously hoped that the tobacco smoke could reach through the rabbit hole, prod my anger, and awaken the rage I needed to speak on my behalf. In time, it mellowed and evolved to where nicotine just became part of my daily routine. For three years, cigarettes were alongside my multivitamin and my morning coffee.

On August 30, 2021, I will be two years cigarette free. Cold turkey.

Addiction is insidious. And I’ve learned so much about its nature and myself from quitting.

What I’ve learned is that when we are addicted to something, quitting has to be our complete priority. I didn’t do anything for the first two weeks that I decided to quit (and I mean: not a thing) because I had to be hyper focused on managing my reactions and my discomfort.

I started to feel real emotions that I hadn’t felt since I was a teenager, likely because I wasn’t smoking back then. These emotions needed to be cared for in other ways. Had quitting not been my top priority, had I been busy, I would’ve got distracted and fell back into the old habits, using one of my many ways to justify it. (My favorite one being: So what if I smoke? I’m a good person. — A phrase that I loathe.)

I know that this whole thing may seem like a self serving pat on the back, and yeah, I suppose I do want to give myself a shout outdoor waking up from denial and taking the time and energy to do this.

But I also write this to throw myself to the wolves. Feeling very exposed and nervous in revealing such an ugly part of me. But it’s there… and I want to help you if you feel the ugly parts of you have too much control.

August 30, 2019 to present day have not been a walk in the park. Aside from 2020, there were several outside events that stopped me in my tracks; like you, the stresses that I’ve been met with in my life are way more than what’s posted on social media. Nearly immediately after I decided to quit smoking, I was met with an extreme, life changing occurrence. A stress that I never imagined for myself. And in the weak and quiet moments of the evening, while I was alone, I could hear the devil on my shoulder whisper, “You deserve a smoke. Just one pack to keep on the fridge like Grandma did.”

I was a lie though.

I didn’t deserve to kill myself slowly. None of us do. We deserve vitality. We deserve clean lungs and proof to ourself that our minds are stronger than the demons rooting for us to lead with reckless ugliness.

Most importantly, we deserve to feel our emotions. Not to numb or distract ourself. We deserve to process feelings and memories, and personally, two years out, I can say I’ve never looked back.

Whatever you are struggling with right now (and I know there’s something because there always is in life), please know that to know me, is to have me in your corner. You got this.

Big love,

Megan