We were returning from my niece’s wedding. We had a wonderful time. On our last day we stopped at the cemetery our six children. I had been to my sister’s grave twice already on this trip, but all the children hadn’t. It was upsetting to see them all standing near her stone. They all love her so much. I know I need to be thankful that they knew her. It is not so for my brother’s baby, or Dawn’s two grandchildren so far, or the others coming.

Then we went to visit my dad at the medical home where he lives. I know his family parents are ‘happy’ with the arrangements there, but every time I visit, his room is smaller. If it gets any smaller, it will be ridiculous. I think they make it great for a while until the residents and families are dependent on them, and then the glory treatment is over. I think his care is good: I just wish his room were bigger. Again, I need to just be thankful that it is a clean, well run, kind and caring place. Everyone there is great.

It is still just kind of tough to walk out of there and see your father as one of “those” people, in a wheelchair, bound to a building-- unless taken someplace. They say he falls sometimes. He has MS, but it developed later in his life (after 40). I wish him no ill-will. Those days are past me. His accountability is between him and God now. His daughter who lived nearby (and would have visited regularly) was murdered 18 months ago. Our problems are bigger now.

When I got home I threw on my boots and jacket and went straight out to the barn. My OTTB (Off Track Thoroughbred) and our black pony were there. I was very anxious to get back home when we were leaving NJ, and I think this new horse in my life had something to do with it.

I was in NJ six times after losing Dawn in that first year. Now I hadn’t been there in seven months. So, leaving and coming home was different. You don’t know until you do it. Going from the cemetery with the kids, straight to see my dad, and then leave for home was too difficult. I have to do it differently from now on. Convenience is not always the best route. We forget that we have emotions. I called my brother and left a message on his cell phone as we left. Thank God he is there, I told him. I call my Mom every night. Tonight, I will tell her: it was rough. It is good for us to share these things. It is support to know others hurt. She bears her burden every day, and better than all the rest of us put together. I don’t know how she does it. It must be faith.

Faith cannot be discounted in all of this. Without it, I would be MUCH worse off. And my husband is very supportive.

Now I have 8 weeks to be back home, homeschool the kids, keep the house up, maybe paint, and ride the horses…then it’s 2 weeks of preparation, vacation at VA beach and the travel involved from here (700 miles 1-way). Then I have 1-2 weeks back home until the murder trial begins in mid-September. So they say.

That is a whole different story. Right now, the house needs to be cleaned, and my kids are awaiting instructions. It’s raining, but my horses are tended to.

It’s the little things, the little blessings that we must hold on to. They are the handholds of life that keep us from falling into the pit of despair. The little blessings save us.

When I pulled up alone to Dawn’s grave on the morning of her daughter’s wedding, this song came on the radio: “I am alive, hey, hey, I am alive…”   Thank You, I said.