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I did all the things. Gave the game plan for the day, arranged for extra game time with friends, sat down and watched the finale of WandaVision before leaving the house, brought snacks, reiterated the game plan throughout the day, made time for screen time, invited friends on our evening adventure, and who knows what else I managed to provide…yet…the meltdown.
He can recover once my promise of fun and excitement and social interaction comes to fruition. I’m slower to recover from his crying accusations and seemingly complete misery.
Now he’s shooting hoops with his brother and a new friend. I’m not sure if I failed in yelling on the way here, or did okay by apologizing and following through with the promised adventure.
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I didn’t know José for long. We met when I put together a soccer team for a new indoor league and I wanted a fresh roster.
He was my favorite addition to my soccer family. A strong defender who communicated well and fit my style of play perfectly. Either of us could seemlessly go on an offensive escapade and know the other was there to cover the back. I encourgaed his roaming more than mine because he had the best shot I’ve ever seen on a defender.
There wasn’t much more than that. He smiled at my boys and maybe chatted with them. Westen recognized José’s skill and we talked about him after games.
José was a supportive teammate and asked me how I seemed to gave so much energy on the field. He was just a few months younger than me and I shared my story of tragedy driving me to honor my body.
He had a couple bouts of what seemed like over-exhaustion after two of our games. We kept in touch as I kept bothering him to join me again on the pitch. I thought he was still trying to figure out what was going on when I heard of his passing.
I’m praying for peace for his wife and family. It reminds me to thank God everytime I step into a pair of cleats.
I am grateful I got to meet José. My life is better for having known him.
Malice and Chen discuss the failure of socialist medical care in Canada, the death of American cities at the hands of the elites, a National divorce, and reasons to take the White Pill.
Disclosure: The links below are affiliate links, meaning, at no additional cost to you, I will earn a commission if you click through and make a purchase.
Disclosure: The links below are affiliate links, meaning, at no additional cost to you, I will earn a commission if you click through and make a purchase.
I’m starting to think of myself as a pilgrim in a strange land, heading toward my true home, my spiritual home, Heaven.
Although I spend some of each day praying to and thanking God, I look forward to spending additional time with this text and the abundance of God’s Word throughout.
Ha! I’m so inappropriate and a deeply flawed follower of Christ.
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Everything about widowhood is unconventional. Dating might be the most disorienting part.
We don’t get rules, there isn’t an expected course. There are no charts to guide us. If we’re lucky, we find someone else who has gone (or is concurrently going) through a similar hell.
I find it hard to imagine that one who has not experienced the guilt, pain, joy, bliss, confusion, and occasional crystal clear clarity of romantically connecting after loss could help me in the way my widowed friends have.
I’m trying to find a way to put it all down here. I’ve had more than two years of surprising romantic adventures. I’ve learned a lot and I hope my stories can help those navigating their own unexpectedly single lives.
This is a baby step as I find comfort with my own journey. There are reasons the widowed only talk with each other about these things. I want to break that secrecy to release the subject from taboo. I want to educate those who may want a romantic connection with a widow or widower. I want to be a safe place for the widowed to discuss difficult feelings. I want to share my lessons, mistakes, and moments of growth. I want people to understand how much conflict is within the happiest looking widow or widower. I want people to know that it is never easy for us, that we never “move on,” and that our happiness always feels like it cost too much.
One of the boys in our unschool group refered to us as his “Homeschool Family.”
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It has felt like this in the few months since my friend Brooke and I decided to form a new group for those who felt abandoned by the various communities that collapsed in the wake of Lockdown restrictions.
We set out to have a weekly, unstructured get together for families of all educational situations. We would respect personal health choices, but made clear that we weren’t going to police our childrens’ play or force them to comply with anti-social regulations.
It was a hit from day one. We met many new families and were reunited with some old friends.
The group has grown and through the winter we have continued to meet outside. It has become much more than a weekly playdate. Now we have Time to Build (my Lego club), Pokémon Club, Unskate, and Junior Rifle Club as regular activities we attend. There have also been birthday parties, waterpark getaways, sleepovers, gaming hangouts, sledding, and all sorts of impromptu fun.
Above all of that has been the strength of the bonds formed. Brooke and I have deepened our friendship to official BFF status. Some of us have shared our faith communities and the support we’ve provided and received has been miraculous. I’ve received meals, gifts, childcare, love, and encouragement in a world that seems more interested in fear and coercion.
This group has become family in six strange months. I am forever grateful for my Homeschool Family.
As a widowed father to two children, Supporting Kidds, Inc. has been a critical piece of our healing. They have been creative and steadfast in their support of families when government regulations would keep us apart.
Please consider supporting them and all the families who have suffered loss in Delaware on March 4th.
