Family - Inspiration Monday guest post

It’s time for the Inspiration Monday guest post and it’s just what I need.

Today’s guest is a lovely lady who can be found at a sweet blog called Sunny Toast. If you don’t know her yet be sure to check out her blog after you read this:

When I received an invitation from Starlight to be a guest on her blog, I jumped to the conclusion that it’s time for me to figure out what really inspires me. What makes my engine run in the fast lane? So I give myself a breather, walk to the park, so I can solemnly think.

As I was walking around the park near my office one day a group of boys and girls in their late teens and early twenties caught my eye. They were sitting next to each other, laughing and pushing each other. Some girls were giggling some were laughing and some of them were just looking at the rowdiness of their friends.

The scene was all too familiar to me, I felt like it was just yesterday when I was like them. Nothing to worry about, no responsibilities, no pressure of living up to the expectations of what I wanted my life to be. Just hanging out with friends who at some point in the future might become a lover, a best friend, an enemy or even a stranger.

As I passed by them, I looked back one last time and smiled. I miss those carefree days when I wasn’t responsible for anything except my grades! Sometimes I wish I could go back and let my parents be the adults again to worry about the boss at work, the bills that seem to accumulate every payday... Being an adult sometimes sucks!

I have been working for 4 and half years now and still I’m chasing my dreams. I don’t know how I was able to make it but all I know is it was because of my little dream to live independently, travel and enjoy life.

As I went on my own path of enjoying my life, working hard and rewarding myself with clothes, shoes, bags, dinners in fancy restaurants, gadgets and a few exciting vacation trips something happened in just the blink of an eye. My parents business shut down. My two sisters and little brother were still in college which lead to the question of supporting them financially.

It was a hard decision for the family. Mom asked for help and it took me months to decide. I turned off my phone, did not log-in to any of my social network accounts or emails. It was a total blackout of communication. I turned into a black sheep! Then one day a letter was delivered to my table at work without a return address. 

It was a letter from my mom, the first one I ever received in my entire life. I read it and broke down and cried. It was a moment in my life when I realized I have a family…a loving family and in that very moment, I decided to take responsibility.

Today, they are professionals, a registered nurse and an engineer while my little brother is about to graduate next march. It was hard for me. I put aside all my personal dreams and took the responsibility but I guess it was easy. I did not treat it as a responsibility but rather pure love because that would lead to resentment.

I still have my ups and downs, I go angry and blue but I won’t stop surviving! Just looking at what I have achieved and the love of my family is more than enough to keep my engine running. We have to remember that we can choose to be happy no matter what the circumstances of our lives are.

So you may be having the same doubts & fears that I had. But you see, all you have to do is look on the bright side of things and focus on what you want to see or happen. Nothing is impossible. 

“When you look at your life, the greatest happiness… is family happiness” 

So when you’re feeling down and alone in this jaded world…look back, there is always a family waiting for you.

The little things - Inspiration Monday guest post

It’s the first Monday in September, which means that it’s Inspiration Monday (I didn’t forget about it this time, since I’m craving for inspiration and motivation for studying).

Today’s guest is The Frisky Virgin who is truly an inspirational person. She has chosen a path she’s walking on and I believe that it’s not always easy for her; sometimes people think she’s a bit odd but that doesn’t stop her. She sticks to her decisions no matter what and that’s the reason why I think she’s a very inspiring person.

Here’s her view on Inspiration:

I’m so honored to guest blog on the topic of inspiration for Starlight. She is a tremendously kind person and wonderfully supportive of her fellow bloggers.  My idea of inspiration is probably pretty simple, but I do hope, in some way, maybe you will feel a little inspired.  So, here we go!

If you listen to the news or even to your perpetually grumpy friends, you might think inspiration is a fading concept.  And you know it’s bad when you say the word inspiration and at least one person thought you said perspiration.  Yeah, it’s pretty cynical out there.  So, what do we do? How do we find the motivation to carry on with our dreams in the face of so much negativity? 

For me, inspiration is like a lone little lightening bug, floating in the distance on a warm summer’s night: beautiful, magical, and mysterious.  Raise your hand if you ever wondered whether those wee flashes of flittering lights were really mini-Tinkerbells when you were younger? *raises hand* And, be honest, isn’t there a small part of you still wishing for the pixie whimsy to be true, even today?  Can you find it?  That little bit of wonder you had as a child where all things were possible?  Okay, now, hold that feeling because it’s there—right there—where you’ll find the seed of inspiration. 

Now, all you have to do is look around to make that tiny seed grow.  For me, it’s the little things.

It’s the Mavericks overcoming all of the “you can’t do it” talk to win the NBA Championship.  It’s Dale Earnhardt Jr. staying so kind and working so hard while under the biggest, cruelest microscope imaginable. 

It’s the smell of my mama’s garlic roast and the sound of my daddy’s mischievous giggle. It’s the twinkle of stars on a cold, lonely night. It’s cooking Thanksgiving dinner with my mama, while cheering on the Dallas Cowboys.  It’s hearing the first Christmas carol of the season. It’s watching Miracle on 34^th Street and walking away believing there just might be a Santa Claus after all. 

It’s the memory of a loved one long lost, but never really gone. It’s taking someone’s hand and telling them they aren’t alone. It’s the warmth of a smile.  It’s lending a helping hand.  It’s the bravery of our military, fire fighters, and police officers. 

It’s failing miserably…then standing up, dusting off, and realizing you are stronger than ever before.

It’s finding the courage to pursue your dreams.  It means believing in the unbelievable, no matter how improbable it may seem. 

So, what does all of this mean?  Inspiration is already all around us if we just open our eyes, heart, mind, soul, and senses. It’s there, waiting to be discovered once more. 

They inspire me, every single day - Inspiration Monday guest post

*Special note: Do you remember Jewels from Naughty nothings and Jewels turning 30? She has left Blogger due to personal reasons but she has a new blog up at WordPress: http://accordingtojewels.com/. You all are welcome to follow her new blog; just click ADD at the bottom of your blogroll then click “Add from URL” and paste her URL into the screen and then click “follow”.*

I owe you all a big apology… This post should have been published last Monday but I somehow forgot about it. Don’t know how this has happened. Shame on me… I am sorry and will do my best not to do the same mistake again. 

This month’s inspiration is Rebecca who writes a lovely blog Making Memories. She’s a lovely lady who works as a nurse and she LOVES her job.

I feel I shouldn’t stall anymore since this should be up a week ago… I give you Rebecca:

When Starlight asked if I could write a post about what inspires me I jumped at the chance. The only struggle was that lots of things, places and people inspire me every day. But what really inspires me? I had no clue and that's why it has taken me a while to write a post to her. Until now I had just hoped something "would happen" to inspire me.

In my job I work with post-operative patients and on the whole they are generally quite healthy, have easy recoveries and go home. We have unwell patients but with a lot of help, support, medications and advice we get them back to a stable condition. Then we have patients that deteriorate on us out of the blue. Totally unexpected and put us in panic mode. I'll never forget a couple of weeks back we had one of those patients. She had had a major operation, was recovering quite well despite having a palliative cancer. This patient's surgery was performed to prolong her life to gain more quality with her family and to make her more pain free.

All of a sudden she started haemorrhaging. She was bleeding out of her nose, buttock, mouth and blood was pouring into her two drain sites. It may sound gruesome, but that's because it was. She was 'crashing' and we had to save her stat. Her heart was giving out, she was unconscious, she was limp and going blue. She showed no signs this was going to happen as in most cases we get warning signals. She was having her breakfast chatting away one minute and literally a minute later totally unresponsive. We had doctors, nurses and specialists pumping her chest, bagging oxygen, injecting adrenaline, pushing pints and pints of blood through her veins and still nothing. Her blood loss was increasing and the look on the medical team faces said it all. We were losing her and after nearly an hour were slowly giving up. In fact one doctor said "she was palliative anyway" which was making me will her to do anything to stay with us. She could not be gone. I know, as a nurse, that most cardiac arrests are unsuccessful but I just had a feeling she could do it. She did not go through this operation to get more time with her family for nothing. 

She had to survive.

Then exactly 59 minutes after she crashed her blood pressure began to rise, her heart rate was increasing and the bleeding was lessening. I can honestly say I have only ever seen this in medical programmes, not before my own eyes. She was moved to an intensive care ward and when I visited her yesterday (a week on from the emergency) she was sat up having breakfast and chatting away like nothing had happened. 

But it had. She nearly died and medical teams were nearly at the end of their tether. We were nearly going to give up on her but she hadn't given up on herself just yet.

You see this is what inspires me, not stories like this. But people like her. People who bring themselves back from the brink and defy the odds. People who refuse for people to give up on them. Who fight. Who will themselves on to prove to others that they can make it despite what is thrown in their faces. 

People who sing to an audience for the first even though they're really scared. People who come out as a different orientation despite the backlash. People who fight for their country because they're selfless. People who bring themselves back from the brink of death because they want to see their family one more time.

They inspire me, every single day. 

Guest post 7: Jezebel by Robbie Grey

We’ve come to the end of this series of guest posts about studying. I’m very grateful to all of my friends who shared their stories about studying with us. I am also very grateful to all of you who are still reading my blog despite the fact that I wasn’t around here much lately.

My last guest is a very talented writer and I’m very honoured to have him here. He’s one of those writers who doesn’t get as much attention as he deserves. Robbie writes Tales From Beyond the End of the World and I would be very happy if you would read some of his beautiful and touching stories starting with this one:

-"You've Come a Long Way, Baby..."-

We first met as adolescents in a souk, at southeastern edge of the greater metroplex, attempting to earn a wage without our parents' help or hindrance. I was nineteen, nearly twenty, collecting and counting money for purchases. She was not too far from having first turned sixteen, packaging those very purchases I collected and counted money for. Just two badlands kids trying to start making our way in the wide world, even though we lived along one of its ends.

My first impression of her was she was rather shy. After all, she didn't talk. At all. There was once or twice I was full of enough adolescent arrogance to ask her if she was mute, to which she would shake her head and giggle. There were a lot of things I would say that she'd laugh at, which got me to think I was either that funny or she was that gullible, or perhaps that uncomfortable. After nineteen years of friendship, she had yet to tell me which.

The first two years of our friendship, she maybe uttered a paragraph's worth a words. She would tell you it's because I never shut up, but that's a bunch a who shot john. Even she's been around when my misanthropy has caused me to retreat deep within myself, hissing and growling at anyone bold, or stupid, enough to come near. Yet, I can own up, when held in comparison, I am the more vocal, the more social of the two of us.

She was the first of my friends to find out I was going to drop of university to get married. That I was going to be a father. A little over a year later, she hung out with me in diner into the small hours as I told her my soon to be x-wife was leaving me and we were filing for divorce.

Early into our friendship, I found out the reason she was so shy was far deeper and darker than simple introversion or the paradoxical misanthropy I was possessed of. One night, Jezebel explained to me she was sociophobic, and a little claustrophobic. Being uncomfortable in strange social situations and crowds like I could be, like I still sometimes get, is one thing. Her's was a horse of a completely different colour. For her, walking out her front door could be the very stuff of waking nightmares.

So, a paradoxical misanthrope took it on himself to try and help a sociophobe face her deepest, darkest fears, and interact with the world. I know, it sounds like a joke. And, by the way, that is the punchline.

To Jezebel, I was a social butterfly. Her teacher in the ways of interaction and the human affliction. To me, she was amongst the best of confidants and one of my favourite monkey watching partners.

Although, there were times we would rage against each other. Times I would have had better luck pulling teeth from a blood-hungry shark than getting her to go somewhere. To try something. To acknowledge when some guy might have been trying to chat her up. She would tell me how she had this image within her skull, a phantasm she called the person she wanted to be.

"You want to see that?" I snarled during one of our more heated arguments, and I all but shoved her into the water closet mirror. "She's looking right back fucking at you! Own up!"

Jezebel avoided me for a week and a half after that, but I may have deserved it...

The education was not all one way. She too would teach me lessons. Of course, in my experiences, travels, and adventures, the gurus, guides, saints, and seers I have encountered have not been the ones bedecked in the robes of the holy or found within the walls of temples and monasteries. They have been the most unlikely characters found in the most unlikely places. That sociophbic girl I met in a souk nineteen years ago now I would say has been one of my best teachers.

Jezebel was the one who reminded me the bardo after my divorce, and my relationship with the fucking psycho x, a few years later, that I did not need to be in a relationship. I spent five years being solitary learning to appreciate wanting to be with someone, instead of convincing myself I somehow required it. The irony of that lesson was I was three years into being without when we met Belushi and I convinced Jezebel it might be okay to ask him out on a date. At one point we didn't really get along, him and I, after all, one of my best friends, my favourites monkey watching partner, was leaving me for a boy.

I had to learn to let go. The person she wanted to be, the person she already was, did not always need her strange, tall, lanky friend. It was a profound lesson.

When I was working with a little more earnestness to publish my book, I feared I might just be something I have found myself sometimes despising; a writer. An artist. But then again, I harbor a pathological hatred of labels and the limitation of which they impose. When I mentioned this to Jezebel, she chuckled and said I could not escape my nature, and, like it or don't, I was possessed of a gift. I waxed melodramatic as I told her I had no gift. If anything, having words fluttering about within my skull like angry hornets, stinging my maggot's nest of a mind, was a curse. I had to purge them or go mad.

She chuckled again and called me on being melodramatic and said;

"However you put it doesn't matter. How you deal with it does."

And some days I do better than others. Like when I don't take myself too seriously. When I take myself too seriously, I risk spirals into self-destruction. I do what I do. Not everyone who plays music has jack-off fantasies of becoming John Lennon, Gene Simmons, and Lady Gaga all warped into one abomination. They play because they play. Because it satisfies them on a level and in a way that has yet to be described in cold and clinical reptilian ways. The words are like that for me, and there is simply no other way to put it.

But it was Jezebel who taught me that lesson warped up in girlish giggles, which, nineteen years from sixteen, she still possess. I'd call her cute for it, but she'd tell me to go fuck myself. Although I still might...just because.

Belushi is one of those who play music just because. The band he's in does classic rock covers at summer auto shows. He kicks around playing in a band that does originals, but if he doesn't, it's okay, because he still gets to play.

I had occasion to see him play the last time I saw Jezebel. It was the first time we'd physically seen one another in almost two years, so it was quite the occasion. We've all been friends for so long I'm the only one who really remembers in detail how Belushi and I spent a year and a half plotting one another's horrible murders only to have a catharsis over late-night coffee.

I harassed Jezebel for looking like a groupie in her denim mini-skirt and Mike Ness t-shirt. She shrugged it off. I was introduced to the circle of friends she runs with these days and we drank beer. That evening, I watched her dance and hoop and holler for her husband's band as they performed. Things I'd never have imagined her being able to do even five years ago, although I always hoped she would.

"Well, Mademoiselle sociophobe, I think you've come a long way. Like light years," I told her at one point. "I'm very proud of you."

"Thank you," Jezebel said, giving me a hug. "I owe you a lot."

"Bah! Mon ami, you don't owe me a damn thing. We're more than even."

Guest post 6: I never Thought I could do it by Rita

I’m finally done with my exams, yaay for me. I don’t have the results for statistics and economics yet and I think I won’t pass so I don’t want to get those results anytime soon. I’m so very tired after weeks of studying that I need a couple of days for myself and myself only. Luckily I still have two more guest posts for publishing.

My amazing friend Rita (check out her blog here) wrote todays guest post and I was a bit surprised by it. I never thought Rita would say she can’t do something. But even if she says so she still does it and rocks!

Quite some time ago, Starlight asked me to write a guest post about studying.  Oh boy.  What could I possibly contribute to that theme?  I knew she spent much of her time studying for finals, exams working on reports, and I have a lot of respect for those who do that...but me?  Naww...she couldn't want to hear about my studying stories.  Or...

There have been 2 times in my life where studying has freaked me out.  The one time you would think I would be freaked out would be when I got my drivers license.  I studied and studied and failed the first time.  But only cause I got totally nervous.  But the one time was when I was doing my event planning certification.  I had been planning events for about 15 years.  Medium scale events.  And I knew what I was doing.  But I figured it would be a good idea for me to have some sort of paper behind my experience too.  So I took an online certification course through a college up north.  At first I was totally freaked out by it.  Well I’ll be honest.  I was always freaked out by it.  The stuff I knew, you don't learn that in a book.  You learn that by doing an event.  Or on the street as they say.  But I kept plugging away.  A little bit at a time.  It was an 8 month course, and I kept acing all the tests.  I will never ever forget my very first 100% mark.  (Not in my life, just in this course).  I was so proud of myself.

Why was it freaking me out?  Because I was thinking that i couldn't do it.  I’d sit and study and think to myself "I can't do this..." meanwhile I'd be doing it.  Oh the mind games we play on ourselves.  I think that would have to be the definition of insanity.

The second time was when I signed up for the Public Relations diploma program at the University.  I was so panicked about it, I think I made myself sick.  I was in bed for a week.  And I found out 2 days after the course started that I was in since someone had dropped out.  There were 47 other people in this online course and there was group work too.  How on earth do you do group work with people you don't know, whom you  have ever met and expect to do great work?  Well, we bloody well aced the report!  It was awesome.  I was so proud of myself again!!  In the course over all, my final grade was 85%.  Not bad for someone who had been out of school for 20 years (give or take).  So yay me!!

I applaud those who are in school for long term.  Those who go after their PhD's and their Masters and things of that nature.  How on earth do you do it?  Because I honestly, even now don't think that I could.

I am supposed to be registering for another course in the program soon and I can't do it.  I haven't done it.  I will do it, but as yet, I've not yet done it.  Call me crazy...but haven't I already learned it all?

I'm kidding of course.  And I love to learn.  I just don't love the studying party of learning.  Is that bad?

I know that our friend Starlight has been super busy with school and trying to manage her life and still join us here in blog land every now and again, and personally I think she does a great job.

Maybe it is easier when your partner also leads the same life.  I wouldn't be familiar with that...

Needless to say, having written this, I'm pretty excited about starting another course.. believe it or not. I'll even come back and tell you what I've decided to take.

I am especially interested in the Media Relations or the Writing course.  Holy crap.  Maybe I'll throw my hat over the wall and take both.  Yikes.

A big thanks to Starlight for asking me to write something about this topic.  I wasn't entirely inspired at first, but once I started writing, it got easier.

Sending you some good studying mojo.

May you continue to prosper!

Love

xo

To get what you've never had, you must be who you've never been.

I have a vision - Inspiration Monday guest post

It’s Inspiration Monday and a very inspiring story is waiting for you. It’s not your typical story about inspiration but I’m sure you’ll all love it just as much as I do.

There are so many wonderful and inspiring women here on blogsphere and I’m really happy and honoured to be hosting some of them here on my blog. Today’s guest is Jewels who writes at Naughty nothings and Jewels turning 30. She is a very kind and helpful lady and I’m really grateful that she wrote this amazing story on such a short notice. Thank you again Jewels!

When I was first asked to write an Inspiration Monday post I panicked a little, after being totally honored of course. Inspiration can mean so many things for me depending on my mood, what I want inspiration for, and where I am emotionally. My inspirations for writing are many but the most influential are music, quotes, and relationships. My inspiration in life and who I want to be as a person are my father, my grandmother, and my late great grandmother. I am not going to write about any of those things though because I feel like it is a story that most people already know…because you have your own. I am going to talk about something that is new and exciting in my life and my inspiration for change.

I am on a journey for the first time in my life to workout and change my life. I want to be healthier and the weight loss and shrinking inches is a wonderful side effect. I have sufficiently bored everyone over at my blog with my tales of Zumba and of trying to lead a healthier life. I hate bringing it up over and over but this is a new and exciting time in my life. I am not fit, I have never really been fit, and my activity level was the equivalent of getting from my seat at the bar to the bathroom and from my bed to the refrigerator. Sound disgusting to you? Seems seriously unhealthy doesn’t it? Well it was. I was.

So what inspires me to hit the gym 3 times a week for amazingly awesome Zumba classes, or hop on the treadmill in my room after a long day when I’d rather be in bed watching TV? What keeps me eating healthier, cutting down on carbs, cutting out all drinks but water, increasingly my fruit and vegetable consumption, cutting out all sweets (wasn’t much of a sweet person anyway), and being better about portion control? Simple, for the first time in my life I don’t want to be out of breath and sweating uncontrollably on a dance floor. I want to be able to jog…hell I want to be able to run. Do you know how long it has been since I have run any significant distance without having to stop and grab my side? I honestly can’t remember.

There I am...from a flattering angle of course.

My inspiration is this vision of myself I have in my mind. I close my eyes and think of myself and I’m nowhere near as large in my minds eye as I actually am in real life. That scares me. I have this idea that I’m not that bad but I can’t deny anymore that I am. I am inspired by the life that I have a chance to lead. I’m moved to work harder to avoid the high cholesterol, high blood pressure, and diabetes that plague my family. I am inspired because for the first time I am not dieting, I’m not on a pill or a fad. I am making changes that I can live with for the rest of my life. This is huge for me!

My friend's wedding in September of 2010. *I'm far left*
In comparison to the other women I felt huge in the wedding party and in these pictures.
This was a wake up call for me to get my act together before my sister's wedding.

The other thing helping me along is that I am determined to lead a healthier and more active life but I’m not focused on the pounds. I didn’t weigh myself before and I’m not weighing myself now. I can physically see the loss of inches, see it in my clothes, feel it in my lack of being winded going up and down stairs multiple times. For the first time in my entire life I will have a birthday where I haven’t gained weight. In all of my 30 years I have steadily put on more and more weight, slowly but surely. I am happier than I ever though I would be, secure in the knowledge that this year that will not be the case, this year I will have lost. 

I have dubbed my weight loss efforts “Operation Drop Dead Sexy Bridesmaid” because my sister is getting married in September and I want desperately to not ruin her wedding photos by being a giant pewter (the color we are wearing) blob. That isn’t a pity inducing sentence. I am gorgeous. I know I am beautiful, inside and out, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know improvements can be made! Her wedding may have given me a push but I know, without a doubt, that I am doing this for myself. So right now the most important inspiration in my life comes from within myself and the hope that I have for my future. 

Guest post 5: The Plane Trip by Barbara

Today’s guest post, written by my lovely friend Barbara (you can find her here, here and here) is about a different kind of studying. People often forget that we learn and study every day; we don’t have to go to school to study and to find out new things about life and people… This fictional story tells us exactly that:

The woman does not like to fly. She does not trust airplanes. And now there is the whole security check thing. Of course, Brenda would never try to take anything on the plane that she shouldn't. It is just very disconcerting to have to go in that machine.  Not because of the machine, but there is no one watching your things while you are in there. Ah well, it would seem all of her belongings had made it safely back to her this time.

The woman sat studying her fellow passengers. The flight had been delayed for about 30 minutes. This left everyone a little restless. After all, you were expected to get to the airport early to get through security. It had already been a long morning and no one had started their trips yet.

There were 3 couples with small children, and one Mom with a baby. Okay, this flight was shaping up to look fun already. One couple looked tired to the bone. Must be their return trip, and not the start of vacation. The second couple was busy telling the children about what they would be doing when they arrive at vacation land. The third couple, hah, the kids were asleep on a blanket on the floor. The woman with the baby was discreetly nursing the child.

The woman's attention moved to the singles in the group. At least they were, like herself, traveling alone. A young man, late teens perhaps, was listening to his music and oblivious to everything around him. There was a middle aged man who seemed to be a golfer. An older gentleman who seemed sad and just sat and stared off into space. Maybe he was just tired.

There were the two guys, in their twenties, that were going on vacation somewhere together. They looked like they had been friends forever. Brenda imagined the two getting married, maybe to high school sweethearts, and buying houses next to each other. Playing cards or fishing on the weekends, their kids going to school together. One day, years from now, one would attend the funeral of the other and would tell stories of the trip they took back in their youth.

There were three middle aged women, including Brenda. The other two were together. They seemed to be related. Either they were sisters, or maybe cousins? Too close to the same age to be a mother/daughter.

And then there was an older woman. She sat looking though her purse for something. Ah, she found it, whatever it was. It was hard to tell what the object was from Brenda's vantage point. The older woman looked up and saw that she had someone's attention. She motioned for Brenda to join her and showed the stranger what she held in her hand.

It was a ring. A man's wedding ring. The woman's husband had died and she was returning from having his funeral back in their old home town. The couple had retired several years before and had “moved South” to enjoy their retirement. They had made trips home to see family and old friends. In turn, family and friends had traveled south to see them many times. Ties were still strong to their home state. Years ago the couple had bought cemetery plots, not thinking they would ever move away. So, when Sam died, his wife of all those years took him home. The older woman spoke in a soft voice and told Brenda about how she and Sam had met, all those years ago.

As the flight was called for boarding Brenda and the older woman walked up together, walked down the small hallway to the plane's door together. As the line would pause, more of the story would be told.

As these things happen sometimes; when they got on the plane, it turned out Brenda and the woman were seated next to one another. The two women took their places and got buckled in their seats.  As the plane began to take off the older woman turned to Brenda, “Are you married?”

“Why yes, I am, happily married for many years. I am going to visit my sister.”

“So, how did you meet your husband?”

Brenda shared her story and the short flight passed quickly. The two women were in the process of exchanging addresses and phone numbers when it became apparent something was wrong with the older woman. By the time the plane landed the woman was gone.

They told Brenda the woman's heart gave out. She had been ill for a while but had insisted on taking her husband to be buried. It would seem she had held on to fulfill this one last act of love.