Rebecca H. Cooper's Blog, page 8

Peonies from heaven

 ....if you need a refresher on why these blooms are ah-mazing, reread my blog from March 31 and enjoy them at my non green thumb expense.  

Grace, in the midst

If you’ve read “Hey, God? Yes, Charles.”, you know that some of the conversations observe me being whiny, angry, irritable, and uncharacteristically helpless. That is because, during that time, I was often whiny, angry, irritable, and uncharacteristically helpless. Not very flattering, but true.  But it was also true that I knew then, and I know today, the gratitude that our family felt for all the support that surrounded us after Charles died. Before I was in that place, I could not have

"Prayer," explained God, "matters."

A friend asked me - "do you remember the prayer you wrote when the book first came out?" She continued - "I keep that prayer on my desk."  I do remember it, of course, but I also remember something else. The book publisher shared this prayer on their wider forum in social media and it received a lot of positive responses. Except one. I felt so bad for this one person because I knew he was exactly where I had been for a long time after Charles died. Itwasn’t personal. He just was not interested

Slack packing

 Slack pack.  The young daughter of a dear friend is claiming her dream and currently hiking the Appalachian Trail.  I’m learning a lot from reading her daily journal including what she meant by this term.  Slack packing is a team effort that allows the hiker to drop a heavy pack and hike a certain distance with only water and snacks.  Another generous party then shuttles the heavy pack to a point farther down the trail for pick up. I have never hiked the Appalachian Trail.  But I now know that,

Music man

 It’s easy to have regrets after losing a loved one.  Some regrets are big (why did we let 9/11 scare us away from Italy in 2001?)  Some are ridiculous (why didn’t I go to med school so I could have saved him?)  And some are smaller, seeping from the fabric of everyday life.  My late husband Charles was a music lover with a stone cold memory for any piece of music trivia you could throw out.  He could sit down at the piano and just play.  When he was a teenager, his family gave him an electric

Music Man

 It’s easy to have regrets after losing a loved one.  Some regrets are big (why did we let 9/11 scare us away from Italy in 2001?)  Some are ridiculous (why didn’t I go to med school so I could have saved him?)  And some are smaller, seeping from the fabric of everyday life.  My late husband Charles was a music lover with a stone cold memory for any piece of music trivia you could throw out.  He could sit down at the piano and just play.  When he was a teenager, his family gave him an electric

Under the helmet

 Left hand, two fingers hanging loosely down beside your body in an inverted V – that’s the quick, universal greeting for motorcyclists. Charles and I used to ride and we got a kick out of learning this insider's nod to a passing fellow biker.  Writing this brings up memories almost certainly cooler than we actually were, but no matter. Riding was great fun and a good exercise in looking under the helmets and dispelling certain stereotypes.  We met and rode with some terrific folks. We would

Fight the band

"Fight the band."  My trainer at the Y recently said that to me and I told her it sounded like a great name for a rock group. Unfortunately, we were rocking all right, but not in a fun way. She had me wrapped up in one of those stretchy workout bands and the fight was tough.  We all have to fight the band in one way or another.  Life doesn't always go our way. We encounter resistance and have to push back. We think we've done all we can, only to find that we must devise a way to stretch a little

Catastrophe (averted)

 My husband Charles and I once undertook a daring cat rescue at night in the middle of a busy two lane road. There’s a conversation about it in “Hey, God? Yes, Charles.” and, if you’ve read the book, you know that it was so daring, I ‘bout killed him. The husband, not the cat. Three hundred dollars later we had us one healed sweet, sweet ball of kitty fur, obviously pre-loved and healthy prior to the injuries sustained the night our headlights spotted him lying on the white line. He was so

Permission granted to grieve

 A dear friend experienced a devastating loss in the past week.  In a matter of hours, her world shifted irrevocably. Yet, even before the day was over, she was already trying to rise above her sorrow and regret for what might have been.   But I hope she allows herself to give in to some of these feelings, at least for a little while. I remember vividly the 13 days my husband Charles lay unconscious in the ICU prior to his death.  For 12 of those days, justified or not, I expected him to come