Dillards 77: Sex Advice from Smoochie Sweetie Sweet Muffin

[melon]

Thanks,again,everyone.

[Don'tlikekoolaid]

I’m so sorry melon, what a tragedy.

[NakedKnees]

I am so sorry for your loss, @melon. Thank you for sharing your experience and perspective with us.

[libgirl2]

Melon, I am sorry 

[Sullie06]

Melon, I'm so sorry for the loss of your son and all you had to go through during that time and still, I'm sure. 

[jillsdopplerofdoom]

So sorry to hear about that Melon

[PennySycamore]

@melon,  I am so sorry for the loss of your son.  No mother should ever outlive her child, but some of us do.  {{{{{{{Hugs}}}}}}}

[Vivi_music]

I can't imagine how that was for you @melon because I can not understand the pain of losing a child. But I understand when you said that you didn't feel strong at the moment. We often don't feel strong at all during those horrible moments. But your resilience, your ability to continue through the pain and live despite that lost, that is strenght.

Sending you hugs.

[RosyDaisy]

"she was ready to check outta here"
That forced "cool kids lingo" she so awkwardly uses... just has no place in a memorial post either, if you ask me.

Ok, now I understand why Any is upset with Jill. If anybody said anything like that about my grandmother, let's just say it wouldn't have been well, received and somebody's ears would be stinging.

[Smee]

I’m so sorry @melon. I can’t imagine how impossible that would be.

As far as death and bodies and resurrection, my understanding as an evangelical Christian is similar to what has been said by others regarding how the dead/God experience time differently to us and the analogy of “soul sleep”: my kid goes to bed at 7pm, I go to bed at 10pm, but when we both wake up it’s Christmas Day and he has no memory or experience of having missed the extra 3 hours I had. There are passages in Corinthians that refer to the resurrection of the dead, and having a “new body” but interestingly nothing to indicate it will in any way resemble our current body at any age, just that it will be perfect. Maybe we’ll look like aliens, but our new bodies will be strong and pain-free and perfectly equipped for worshipping God. There’s no reason to believe that because I’m white now, I’d be white in the afterlife, for instance.

It doesn’t really bother me because we recognise people on so much more than just sight, and I think our ability to recognise and love other souls wouldn’t necessarily have to rely on current human senses (like sight and smell) that developed to interpret phenomena of this world. Interestingly, in the bible there doesn’t really seem to be a strong indication that we’ll even see/recognise/spend more time with individuals who we were close to in this life, as opposed to other departed souls of all believers. In Matthew 22, Jesus is questioned about a widow who kept remarrying and then losing her subsequent husbands, “at the resurrection, whose wife will she be” and he replies “At the resurrection people will neither marry nor be given in marriage; they will be like the angels in heaven.” Which doesn’t necessarily mean  we WON’T recognise each other, but heavenly relationships and connections seem to be different from earthly ones.

[Melissa1977]

@melon I'm so sorry for your loss. I have no words because I feel they can be misunderstood in a forum, but I think you are a great mother and the love you had for him is still floating. Send you a big hug!

[livinginthelight]

Melon, thank you for sharing. I'm so very sorry.

Since we're sharing experiences, I'll take the plunge. You can believe this or not but I promise it's true.

A few years back, my aunt was dying in another state and because we had no idea when she'd actually pass, I'd made the decision to wait at home and fly in for the funeral.

I was busy with making dinner from a new recipe and I wasn't thinking about my aunt at that moment, when suddenly I was flooded with a vision of a door opening into heaven and an overwhelming sense of peace. The light coming through the door was...more solid than ours.. it's hard to describe. The colors were more solid too. Our brightest, richest colors are pale next to those colors. I just knew everything was okay. I was filled with joy.

I looked at the time because I was positive my aunt had died and wanted to mark the moment. I waited for the call. But the call didn't come. I was hesitant to call because I didn't want to interrupt a deathbed scene.

The next morning I couldn't stand it and called my uncle. He said my aunt was kind of in a coma. I asked if anything had happened the previous night at 6:48 and he immediately said YES! With her eyes closed, she'd suddenly started laughing and smiling and "talking", though they heard it as gibberish. This went on for about an hour. She was SO joyful. Everyone in the room was convinced she was having some type of reunion. They didn't look at the clock but it happened right around the time I saw the door.

Partly because of this experience, I am absolutely convinced that the afterlife is beautiful and that we will be reunited with our loved ones.

[Four is Enough]

I was 8 when my father's father died. It was night. My mother had a habit of coming upstairs to bed, coming into my sister's and my room, and opening the blinds so that when it was morning, we'd wake up more easily. On this particular night, I heard a heavy tread coming up the stairs, but it didn't sound like my mother at all. My room door opened, and my "mother" didn't go over to the window,       just passed next to my bed and opened the other door close to the bathroom. I heard the step   up towards my parents; bedroom, and lay there shivering, going "Mom?" with no answer.

I heard my parents talking, and in a few minutes, the phone rang. It was the hospital with the news of my grandfather's death.

Later that day, we heard from an uncle (Dad is one of six) that he'd had a similar visitation at his home.

Dad and that uncle are the oldest and youngest. Pap visited his oldest and youngest before he departed.

[BachelorToTheRapture]

I dont know about an afterlife, but I believe anyone who dies during a longer illness rather than an event such as an accident has some level of control over when they let go. My grandpa had cancer, and as it got bad the family called my mom, his only child who didn't live locally, to come visit. The morning before she arrived, he went upstairs, showered, shaved, etc. That was the last time he went upstairs, he died shortly after she left. It was clear to us that he was waiting to say goodbye to her and have one more visit. 

My other grandpa died shortly after he experienced the last item on his bucket list. He was also quite ill for an extended period. He died when one of his kids was visiting (they were gone for the winter) to help my grandma not be alone/drive the car back home. I believe that he also held on to finish his bucket list and make sure someone was there to take care of his wife.

[sixcatatty]

2 hours ago, Four is Enough said:

I was 8 when my father's father died. It was night. My mother had a habit of coming upstairs to bed, coming into my sister's and my room, and opening the blinds so that when it was morning, we'd wake up more easily. On this particular night, I heard a heavy tread coming up the stairs, but it didn't sound like my mother at all. My room door opened, and my "mother" didn't go over to the window,       just passed next to my bed and opened the other door close to the bathroom. I heard the step   up towards my parents; bedroom, and lay there shivering, going "Mom?" with no answer.

I heard my parents talking, and in a few minutes, the phone rang. It was the hospital with the news of my grandfather's death.

Later that day, we heard from an uncle (Dad is one of six) that he'd had a similar visitation at his home.

Dad and that uncle are the oldest and youngest. Pap visited his oldest and youngest before he departed.

My dad died on February 4, 2000, 2.5 weeks before the first time I took the Kentucky Bar. In mid-April, he came to visit to tell me that I wasn't going to get good news but that I would take the Bar again in July and pass (I did).  He called me baby girl. My dad is the only person ever allowed to call me baby girl (mostly because of the sweet smile he had when he said it that just touched my heart).

My husband and some dear friends were crushed and amazed that I was handling it so well.  I handled it well because of my dad's promise the night before. No one will ever convince me that the person who visited me that night was not my dad.

My mother died 3.5 years later. When my brother called to tell me he had found her, I had this immediate vision of my dad standing by a gate or door or some entry. He grabbed my mother, gave her the grin I inherited, and said what took you so long? What took you so long was the way he teased her. No one will ever convince me otherwise that my dad met my mother and I witnessed it.

2 hours ago, BachelorToTheRapture said:

I dont know about an afterlife, but I believe anyone who dies during a longer illness rather than an event such as an accident has some level of control over when they let go. My grandpa had cancer, and as it got bad the family called my mom, his only child who didn't live locally, to come visit. The morning before she arrived, he went upstairs, showered, shaved, etc. That was the last time he went upstairs, he died shortly after she left. It was clear to us that he was waiting to say goodbye to her and have one more visit. 

My other grandpa died shortly after he experienced the last item on his bucket list. He was also quite ill for an extended period. He died when one of his kids was visiting (they were gone for the winter) to help my grandma not be alone/drive the car back home. I believe that he also held on to finish his bucket list and make sure someone was there to take care of his wife.

That's what happened with my in-laws. My mother-in-law died of leukemia, which had begun as pre-leukemia (I can't remember the name off-hand). That Monday morning, she was moved into the large Hospice room because all six of her children and those of us who married them were in the room. We were talking and laughing, catching up with one another. Helen told us not to leave--that she was going to close her eyes and just listen. Those were the last words she said.

Late that night, I reminded my husband that she could still hear. I don't know what he said to her other than he was taken care of and he knew she wanted to be with my father-in-law. I do know that all of her children had those quiet times with her. I also told her that she had taken care of us and now it was time for us to take care of her. In true Helen fashion, she died as my husband and I left the hospital and another brother was coming. She waited for all of us and waited so that we could all say our goodbyes.

Edited June 14, 2019 by sixcatatty
forgot a word

[Smash!]

Oh melon, I‘m so sorry you had to let go your son [emoji20]
I love how openly we can discuss death and dying here on FJ.

My take is that we simply stop existing when we die and that the people who died don‘t know they ever existed. It’s like if you’re under general anaesthesia. For me that‘s really hard to get my head around but it‘s what I believe. Still, I think the non-existing is the „normal“ state, since we didn‘t exist for so long until we were born into this world and will go back to that state when we die.
At the end it‘s a mystery. A good friend of mine will give birth very soon and it‘s inexplicable how there will be a new human in all our lives that didn‘t exist a year ago. Same goes with death. How can a person suddenly not be here anymore when you just yesterday talked to him, hugged him and felt his presence?

[Nikedagain?]

I'm so sorry sweet @melon. I'm glad you're here. 

[Georgiana]

Hugs to everyone who has shared their stories.

On a somewhat lighter note: 

Spoiler

On the day my grandfather was laid to rest in January, the St. Louis Blues were dead last in the NHL.
From that day forward, they suddenly started on an incredible tear through the league, surprisingly making the playoffs.
Two days ago, the St. Louis Blues won their first Stanley Cup in franchise history, ending a 52 year drought.  
My grandfather was from St. Louis and a lifelong St. Louis sports fan.
You're welcome, Blues fans.

 

Something that I have always found comforting is the First Law of Thermodynamics, which states in part that the total energy of an isolated system remains constant.  Energy can neither be created nor destroyed, but rather it is only transformed or transferred from from one to another.  

When we lose loved ones, their energy is not destroyed.  Rather, they have transferred it in pieces into others with every interaction, the largest pieces naturally going to those they loved, and we have transformed part of it into our memories of them.  My grandfather is not truly gone, only different.  He lives on now in millions of different pieces, spread out in a thin layer like snow or confetti over the lives of those he met, those he influenced and those he loved.  He is in the lessons I learned from him.  In the ways his love made me grow.  In the stories about him I tell.  And he is transferred in part yet again every time I use the things he taught me to help others.  I've told stories about him here, so in a very small way, he also lives on in all of you. And now, pieces of your loved ones are here with me. Very small pieces.  Perhaps too tiny to notice.  But still they are there, living on with me.  And this love or energy can even be passed down through generations, long past when names are forgotten.  The love we give others is in many ways the love that we have found or received, which often came to us from others, which came to them from others, etc. etc. stretching back perhaps forever.  

The people we love are always with us.  We carry their energy inside us.  We give it to others, and we receive some of their loved ones' energy in return.  Death changes things, but it does not fully destroy a person.  It doesn't have that power.  It cannot claim the parts of ourselves that we choose to give to others. 

And children/babies are a wonderful outlet to pour out the love of a million generations and allow those people to live on again.  My children will know my grandfather.  They'll never meet him, they may not be ever be aware of it, but they will know his love and they will know his humor.  They'll just know it in my voice, not his.  

[LacyMay]

I've always had a hard time with the idea that people have control over when they go. 

My grandfather was sick for a few years but went downhill quickly, I flew across the country to be there for Christmas and we were told he had a comfortable amount of time left. By early Feb I was booking emergency flights back home because his health was going downhill quickly. 2 days before I was supposed to fly out I got the call that he had passed. 

I was devastated that I didn't make it back to say goodbye, that I didn't know at Christmas that it would be my last chance etc. And as much as I'm ashamed to admit it I was (and still am) angry that he wasn't able to hold on just that little bit longer. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for feeling anger but I also don't know how to not feel it. 

I did have a dream after he passed but before I made it home that felt like goodbye. And I've had a couple lucid dreams since where I'm talking to him clear as day but know when I wake up he won't be here. 

On the note of grief and people processing it differently, in the couple days between leaving NL for BC I was a wreck. I did the things I needed to (rescheduled midterms etc) but outside of that all I could do was watch movies. I cried hard enough one night that I vomited into Mr. May's trash can. When I got to BC I immediately switched modes and focused on what needed to be done next (staying on hold with gov't agencies so my grandmother could cancel things etc, making lists and shopping for the reception etc. I had no tears left and yo paraphrase Anna I knew that if I went on what I was feeling I would make a bad situation worse. 

A few months later my Grandmother accused me of not caring that he died because "I didn't cry" that one still stings. 

ETA I can't judge anyone for less than eloquent fb posts, I'm a fine enough communicator, I can write well and speak well. I was nearly done a social sciences degree when my Grandfather passed but as I mentioned earlier my FB post was nothing special. It may have just been a picture, even 6 years later no words feel quite right.

Edited June 15, 2019 by LacyMay

[VelociRapture]

12 hours ago, Georgiana said:

Hugs to everyone who has shared their stories.

On a somewhat lighter note: 

  Hide contents

On the day my grandfather was laid to rest in January, the St. Louis Blues were dead last in the NHL.
From that day forward, they suddenly started on an incredible tear through the league, surprisingly making the playoffs.
Two days ago, the St. Louis Blues won their first Stanley Cup in franchise history, ending a 52 year drought.  
My grandfather was from St. Louis and a lifelong St. Louis sports fan.
You're welcome, Blues fans.

 

Something that I have always found comforting is the First Law of Thermodynamics, which states in part that the total energy of an isolated system remains constant.  Energy can neither be created nor destroyed, but rather it is only transformed or transferred from from one to another.  

When we lose loved ones, their energy is not destroyed.  Rather, they have transferred it in pieces into others with every interaction, the largest pieces naturally going to those they loved, and we have transformed part of it into our memories of them.  My grandfather is not truly gone, only different.  He lives on now in millions of different pieces, spread out in a thin layer like snow or confetti over the lives of those he met, those he influenced and those he loved.  He is in the lessons I learned from him.  In the ways his love made me grow.  In the stories about him I tell.  And he is transferred in part yet again every time I use the things he taught me to help others.  I've told stories about him here, so in a very small way, he also lives on in all of you. And now, pieces of your loved ones are here with me. Very small pieces.  Perhaps too tiny to notice.  But still they are there, living on with me.  And this love or energy can even be passed down through generations, long past when names are forgotten.  The love we give others is in many ways the love that we have found or received, which often came to us from others, which came to them from others, etc. etc. stretching back perhaps forever.  

The people we love are always with us.  We carry their energy inside us.  We give it to others, and we receive some of their loved ones' energy in return.  Death changes things, but it does not fully destroy a person.  It doesn't have that power.  It cannot claim the parts of ourselves that we choose to give to others. 

And children/babies are a wonderful outlet to pour out the love of a million generations and allow those people to live on again.  My children will know my grandfather.  They'll never meet him, they may not be ever be aware of it, but they will know his love and they will know his humor.  They'll just know it in my voice, not his.  

I think this is a really beautiful and sweet way to think of death. It makes it sound very peaceful rather than something to be feared in my opinion.l, which is great for anyone but especially little kids experiencing loss for the first time. Kind of similar to what I’ve mentioned before, but much more elegantly stated. 

[OyToTheVey]

This conversation about afterlife is fascinating to me. In Judaism, we don't really talk about afterlife. As far as I remember the Torah doesn't really have many passages about it. Most major holidays like Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah we light candles of remembrance for close family that has passed but we don't really talk about what happened to them after they pass. I've never heard a rabbi talk about heavens gates or their souls or anything. We don't really have a hell either. There's steps you can take to atone and become better.

 

I'm not the most religious, so I might be misremembering what rabbis have said. But atonement in general is a big one with us.  

Edited June 15, 2019 by OyToTheVey

[jcanglin991]

First. I'm so sorry @melon. I cant  imagine the pain you went through. I hope talking about it helps.  Many virtual hugs and much love coming your way. On the vision front. Years ago my mother and I were on the way to my cousin's wake. She and Mama were very close.  My sister was in the car in front of us because we were staying over and she had to go back for work.  As we were driving I suddenly saw an open gate, the old fashioned farm kind. At the same time my sister called and said "Did you you see Heaven's Gate too?" I said I did and they must be waiting for Willa Mae. That's our cousin's name. Mama said she saw it too. My cousin was a devout Catholic and we assumed that was her welcome to Heaven.  I've never seen that since.

[livinginthelight]

@VelociRapture That quote is absolutely beautiful. Is it something that we would be able to share outside of this thread? Do you know who the author is? With permission I would love to copy and use this IRL. Without permission, I will certainly use the concept.

[VelociRapture]

21 minutes ago, livinginthelight said:

@VelociRapture That quote is absolutely beautiful. Is it something that we would be able to share outside of this thread? Do you know who the author is? With permission I would love to copy and use this IRL. Without permission, I will certainly use the concept.

I’m not sure which post you’re referring to. Which quote did you mean?  

[patsymae]

On 6/8/2019 at 9:30 PM, PennySycamore said:

@patsymae, I had to laugh when you mentioned Marabel Morgan.  If anyone wants to know some of the crap that Marabel advised women to do,  there's the scene in Fried Green Tomatoes where Evelyn greets her husband at the door:

 

That's Fanny Flagg as the teacher in the beginning of the clip and Missy Schulman as Evelyn's friend.

Thanks for that. Same day I read it "The Total Woman" showed up on one of my freebie/bargain book emails. For those not as ancient as I: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Total_Woman