Remember when?

Hey Babe,

I’ve been thinking about you so much today.

I finally closed on our Gilbert home. Saying goodbye was harder than I expected. As I walked through the halls one last time, memories came rushing back—some beautiful, some not so easy.

I realized something as I stood there.

Not every moment in that home was healing or happy.

You and I… we were both stubborn. There were times I was so frustrated with you I wanted to scream—and I’m pretty sure I did. And yet, there were just as many moments when I fell in love with you all over again.

Funny thing is, I don’t think I knew you as well back then as I do now.

So much of our story feels like a blur of love, confusion, and misunderstandings.

---

I still think about our first date.

I remember thinking you seemed like a nice guy—someone I might be interested in. Then I found out you had asked another girl to the same fireside and canceled on her. She still showed up, and she was not happy with you. I remember thinking, " Who does that?

And then… You took me to your grandmother’s house.

You walked through every room, checked under beds like you were protecting me from something, and then asked if I wanted a foot rub.

I thought, " This is weird.

And then… well, things escalated quickly, and I remember thinking, I need to leave.

When you walked me to my car, I honestly hoped it would be the last time I’d see you.

---

But it wasn’t.

You kept calling.
You kept showing up.

And somehow, every time I was with you, I found something else to admire.

I had my eyes set on a mission, and I made that clear from the beginning. That didn’t seem to scare you away—in fact, looking back, I think it may have been one of the reasons we stayed together.

Maybe because marriage wasn’t on my mind.

And now I know… it wasn’t really on yours either.

---

As I got closer to your family—especially your mom—I realized something.

I wanted the Williams name to be part of my life forever.

---

We had so many good times.

Your softball games.
Trips to Prescott.
Staying in the Cozy Cabin with your parents.

Walking through the woods, finding quiet places just to be together, laughing the whole way back.

That’s when we really started to fall in love.

---

I remember being so jealous of your ex, Vicki.

She would come around your parents’ house, even sit down for dinner once, and I was furious. Your mom had to gently remind me that she was part of the past—and not the one for you.

She was right.

---

We spent hours playing Pac-Man at that arcade on Alma School and Southern before Fiesta Mall was built. It felt like everyone in town was there. And right across the street, that old movie theater—where you always wanted to sit in the back.

Of course.

Years later, after we were married, we went back there with friends. I will never forget that night—the rain pouring down, and suddenly a section of the ceiling collapsed right into my lap.

I laughed.

You? Not so much.

You went after that theater like it was personal until they finally gave us free tickets.

---

I still laugh thinking about that.

---

I also remember the day I stopped to help a stranger on the side of the road.

I was late getting to your house, and everyone was waiting for dinner. You were worried, and when I told you I had given someone a ride, you couldn’t believe it.

Looking back… You were probably right.

But that was me. Completely clueless about the dangers of the world, a true blonde!

---

Lately, I’ve been thinking about those early days—when life felt simple, carefree, and full of possibility.

I’m so grateful for those memories.

Because missing you… It is the hardest thing I have ever lived through.

If I could trade all the trauma I’ve experienced in my life for this grief, I would take the trauma again and again just to have you here.

---

I still talk to you.

You know that.

But not hearing you respond… that’s what breaks me.

Sometimes I close my eyes and try to feel you near me. Sometimes I can. Sometimes I can’t.

At night, I imagine your arms around me, holding me, and there are nights I cry myself to sleep.

---

This wasn’t supposed to happen to us.

We were supposed to grow old together.

We had more trips to take. More memories to make.

I still ask God why.

I know I may never get that answer.

---

But I hope I’m making you proud.

Because I am so proud of you.

We had a life full of experiences—both beautiful and hard—and I am who I am today because of all of it.

Because of you.

---

Thank you for loving me the way you did.

I know I wasn’t always easy.

But you stayed.

And you helped shape me into the woman I am today.

---

I love you.

Always.

Year Two: The Ache That Lingers

Frenchie

Everyone told me it would get easier with time. But here I am — deep into the second year — and it hurts even more than ever.

The world expects healing to follow a schedule, as if grief has a deadline. But the truth is, I still cry every night. I stare at the pillow with your face — that big, beautiful smile — and I miss it just as much now as I did the day you left. My heart still feels shattered. I still reach for you in the quiet moments, and each time I wake and realize you’re truly gone, the pain comes flooding back all over again.

I’m learning that grief isn’t linear. It isn’t something to check off a to-do list. It’s not something you “get over.” It has reshaped me—woven into the fabric of my everyday life. I’m learning to carry it, but some days I still fail.

Grief is complicated because it’s invisible. From the outside, I look delicate — maybe even strong. But no one sees the weight I carry: the lump in my throat, the restless knots in my stomach, the exhaustion that comes from pretending I’m okay. Grief is quiet and heavy, a burden most people never see.

You were my anchor. My peace. The one who helped me breathe when the world felt too heavy. Without you, I feel like half of me is missing.

Still, I move forward. I carry your absence with me like a shadow — sometimes light, sometimes suffocating. Some days, the grief feels like a soft whisper. On other days, it rages like a storm, leaving me breathless. But always, underneath it all, it’s love. Pure and enduring love.

I am learning to coexist with the sorrow. I don’t feel whole — not yet — but I am still here. I’ve changed. I’ve grown in ways I never expected since you left.

Haleigh still will not talk or text me. My heart aches for her, but I’m learning that I have to keep moving forward without her. I miss her so much, and I know this would have hurt you, too. I may never see her or our grandchildren again. So much has changed, and I no longer have the energy to keep trying to force what isn’t flowing. I’m not getting younger, and I want to build healthy, joyful relationships with the children who do reach out, who show up, who love me back.

Kayla tells me I wasn’t supposed to reach out to Haleigh — that there’s no contact rule— but I never got that memo. I send texts at random moments: I love you, I miss you. I don’t know how else to hold her in my heart.

Despite all of the brokenness, I can feel Heavenly Father near. I feel you cheering me on in the quiet moments. And while I may not be alone, I am — undeniably — deeply, quietly lonely.

I’ve decided to serve in the Mesa Temple. I’m on the waiting list for a calling — just one day a week, but as much as I can. And I’ve decided I want to serve a mission someday. In two years, when I retire, I hope I’ll be healthy enough to go. You know this was always my dream. I wanted to serve when I was twenty-one, but life had other plans — beautiful, messy, unexpected plans. Then you promised me we would serve a mission together. You promised me.

I don’t know what our mission will be, Eric. But I see it two ways:

1. I get to serve in this life — healthy, devoted, and doing good — carrying you with me in every prayer.

or
2. I finish this life and serve with you on the other side.

In either case… I win.

I love you so much. I want to do everything right while you’re gone so that when I cross that veil, I can run straight into your arms.

XOXO
Monya

The Day the Silence Spoke Back

 

Dear Frenchie,

There was a time I believed that once someone passed, they were simply gone—out of reach, out of touch, out of time. The physical pain of your absence has been unbearably hard. The silence I’ve felt is so loud, it hurts.

But then something changed.

Slowly, quietly, profoundly—I began to hear you. To feel you with me.

It didn’t happen all at once. It started with a whisper of intuition, a warmth in a room where I stood alone, a flicker of a memory that came alive in real time. I thought I was imagining it—but I desperately wanted it to be real. Over time, those feelings returned, again and again, with clarity, with power, and with love.

Grief has cracked me wide open. And in that open space, your spirit found room to enter my heart and soul. Thank you for that.

I’ve realized that spirits don’t always come with flashing lights or dramatic signs. Often, it’s subtle. It’s the beautiful sunsets and the wondrous sunrises I now love to wake up to.
It’s the song that plays when I’m thinking of you.
It’s the memory of you learning the Stanky Leg and how happy that made you.
It’s the feather on my doorstep or the ladybugs that continue to show up.
The dream that felt more like a visit than a vision.
It’s the way my body chills just before a wave of peace washes over me.

The more I’ve leaned into trust, the stronger the connection has grown. I began talking to you—first out loud, then in thought, and sometimes just through tears. And always, you responded—in your own way, not in words, but in presence. A presence so unmistakable, I can only call it sacred.

I’ve come to understand: love doesn’t die. Energy doesn’t end. And your spirit hasn’t abandoned me. Quite the opposite—you have stepped into my heart and reassured me that you are with me anytime I need to tap into that spirit.

Because of your visits, I’ve learned to stop and enjoy the small things—like you did during that year and a half before you passed away. My awareness is palpable. Strikingly overwhelming at times, but I am grateful for the continued lessons I’m learning about you.

I’ve learned to meditate by sitting in the silence, breathing air into my lungs, and feeling your presence wrap around me like a soft embrace. I only remember the good times we shared. I don’t take your presence lightly—it is profound.

Our loved ones are not “lost.” They are transformed. They walk with us, whisper to us, and when we get quiet enough to listen, they answer.

Your mom did that with me after she passed—her first visit was when I had to be resuscitated during a very long and dangerous surgery. It only lasted a few minutes, but what took place with her seemed like much longer. When I opened my eyes, I was in Heaven. Your mom was there, holding her arms out, wanting me to run into them—and I did. Her eyes were as blue as I remembered, like the Caribbean Sea. She told me Heavenly Father had asked her to visit with me, and she instructed me about three things I still needed to do here on earth.

On that visit, your dad was there too. I hugged him and felt the strength of his embrace. I told him I didn’t want to go back—that my life was too hard. He didn’t hesitate. He waved his hand to his left and said, “Do you see those children playing? Those are your grandchildren, and they need your influence and example in their lives. Now it is time for you to return to your life on earth.”

Then he looked at your mother and said something I later found peculiar: “It’s time for Monya to go back to her life on earth, and it’s time for you and I to get back to work.” Get back to work? What did that mean? I had so many questions as I tried to make sense of what had happened to me that day.

The second time your mother appeared to me was in a dream. We walked through a beautiful garden as she explained one of her “jobs” in Heaven: she oversaw it. She asked me about you, whether you were treating me with love and respect, just as Ray had treated her. She asked if I was happy. We talked about spiritual things, and I remembered why I loved her so much. She still visits me in my dreams.

I felt it when my brother, Lance, passed away. I carried shame and guilt, wondering if I had taken him to the hospital that night instead of worrying about him keeping me awake, could I have saved him?

But when Lance visited me not long after his death, he placed his hand on mine as I prayed about him. I reveled in those moments, eyes closed, listening as he spoke. I heard him as if he were alive and standing beside me. He said:

"Monya, my death is not your fault. It was my time to go, and I am happy. Now it’s time for you to move out of Mom and Dad’s house and start living. Go and enjoy your new life with Eric—he is a good person."

And then he was gone.

When Jami was diagnosed with breast cancer, I knew I needed to visit her—but I didn’t. I felt uncomfortable. How could I face someone I loved so much, someone who had already suffered so deeply?

After her death, I punished myself with guilt for not going to her. That pain became even harder to bear when I was diagnosed with breast cancer myself.

But I began to pray about Jami, and the spirit I felt was hers. She assured me she knew I loved her—and she understood why I didn’t come. She told me that now, having received the same diagnosis, I would appreciate it. She reminded me to focus on the fight ahead. She told me I would be blessed through the process and that Heavenly Father would never leave my side.

She was right. I didn’t waste energy worrying about who came to visit or who said the wrong things. I gave grace—because I remembered how I felt with Jami. And when I told you that story, you were mesmerized. You asked why you’d never had experiences like that.

I’ll never forget what I said:
I told you that you didn’t need the reassurance like I did. You were raised in a very different environment from mine.

For me, those spiritual encounters kept me grounded, alive, conscious. They carried me when I felt I couldn’t go on. It wasn’t always easy—in fact, it was humiliating at times—but I made it through.

And finally, there was Black Rock Beach.

The Lord allowed you to visit me in the very place where you took your last breath. I believe He escorted you there and left us to share sacred time together.

You told me you saw me on the beach that day—you knew I would never be the same again. You told me about where you are. You said you are so happy that where you are, there are no negative feelings or thoughts. You said Heaven is real—it’s the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen. Then you shared your spiritual connection with Heaven and the life you now have. It was the first time I had ever seen you in this light, and it was so refreshing.

You told me you were excited to be allowed to visit me. And that I have a gift—a gift to feel the spirits of those we love who have passed.

You told me you knew you couldn’t help me any other way—but visiting me was enough. It was everything. You shared your love for the Lord and assured me He lives and loves us all. Those spiritual thoughts you shared with me are my favorite—because I had never heard you speak with such intention.

I know now, without a doubt, that there is life after death. And I can tune in to those feelings when needed. I didn’t want our moment to end. But when it did, I looked at my watch, stunned that we had spent four hours together.

I treasure your love and your presence in my life. I feel you often. And I am eternally grateful to Heavenly Father for that day on the beach—and for the life we shared.

As rocky as the beginning of our marriage was, I will always be proud of us—of our grit and determination to keep going. The world said we were a statistic, that we’d never make it. But we did. And we both know we had a beautiful love story. It is more evident to me now how much you love me.

Thank you for loving me the way you have, and for continuing to show me your beautiful, vulnerable heart. I love this part of you.

Now, when I feel that gentle tug in my soul—or the warmth over my entire body—I no longer wonder. I know.

I am a special daughter of God, protected and guided by the spirits of those who love me.

I am not alone.
I never was.
And neither are you.

I am in love with our eternal companionship.

I love you. And I look forward to seeing you again.

Love,
Me, your cute wifey

Easter 2025

 

Hello, My Lover,

It has been a whirlwind of activity — moving from a 5,000-square-foot home to a 2,100-square-foot one has kept me on my toes more than I ever expected.

Yesterday, I did something sweet. I invited the kids and grandchildren over to our Gilbert home for one last dinner and a Golden Egg hunt. As the grandkids searched for eggs, I could hear you in my head — cheering them on as each one found their egg with $20 inside. I could practically feel your wink when they succeeded. I miss your belly laugh… your smile… everything about the joy you brought to even the simplest moments.

Today is Easter, and I attended my new ward. The people there are so kind, and I felt a sense of peace in their presence. Do you remember when we were deciding to move from the house on Cove? We hunted for land, but what mattered most to me was the ward. I will never forget the spirit we felt when we visited the Sixth Ward together. Yesterday, as people introduced themselves and welcomed me, I felt that same spirit — a warm reminder that I am not alone. It’s a good ward, with a beautiful mix of children, youth, and many retired couples our age. This was my third week there, and I already feel welcomed and embraced.

I grew spiritually in that old ward, surrounded by so many dear people who helped build my testimony of Christ. Today, more than ever, I remember that Jesus Christ’s sacrifice assures me we will see each other again.

I arrived at church just a little late, and as I sat in the foyer, I gazed at the life-size picture of Christ. I pictured Him standing with you, and I had a quiet conversation with Him. I know He lives. I know I will see you again. I can’t fully understand why Heavenly Father allowed His Son to suffer, knowing the pain it would bring Him, but I know it was part of His plan — a plan of love and mercy that gives me hope.

The grandchildren are growing so fast. Haleigh and her family were unable to attend today, but she sent pictures of them — and oh, they are getting so big. Ellis is tall, and Sena was sweet as ever. She reminds me so much of Haleigh at her age. Haleigh has always been a kind, gentle soul. What a joy it was to raise her! I’ll never forget her senior year of high school — so many times, she would crawl into bed next to me just to be near me, no words needed. She was my fierce advocate during my cancer journey, even without knowing it.

I’ve been spending a lot of time with Kayla lately. She and Jeremy are separated, and I fear their marriage may not survive. Kayla is an incredible mom and an amazing listener. I understand her more now, and through her, I’ve learned so much about Autism and the depth of patience it requires. Recker is fifteen now — big and strong like Jeremy —, and he often echoes what we say, letting me know he understands. When I say, I love you, he responds in his own beautiful way. Ezra is gentle and loving — just the other day, he ran back to me for a big hug that brought tears to my eyes. Teddy is thoughtful and kind, though he’s understandably confused about his parents’ separation.

You would be so proud of Blake. He has helped me tremendously this past year. You know he’s such a mama’s boy. He’s a hard worker, a great husband, and an incredible father. Chloe is thriving in her job at Denver’s office, and Weslie — sweet Wes — oh, she is a dancer like her mom, and she loves it. Yesterday, she kept hugging me and kept asking when she could have a “sleepover.” You know how much I adore that. She wondered about Papa — where you are, physically. I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t want to say something her parents wouldn’t like, so I told her how much you still love her, and that one day, when it’s my time to leave this life, I’ll be with you again. She listened earnestly — I’m not sure if she fully understood, but she wanted to be comforted.

Kaitlyn and Brian are excellent. Kaitlyn works from home and really enjoys her job. I am so proud of her in so many ways. Brian works hard, and I’m grateful that they continues to lean on the Lord together. I asked Brian if he would come and dedicate our new home in The Reserve — and of course, he said he would. He is solid in the Gospel, and I am so glad he is Kaitlyn’s partner.

Phoenix is ten now — growing so fast. He loves soccer and football, and life with such joy and friendships. And Archie… you know how my heart melts with that boy. Kaitlyn may say he’s sneaky, but I’ve never seen it — to me, he is all sweetness. I love how much Archie and Phoenix adore little Florence. I feel a little sorry for the boys who want to date her someday — she is something truly special. Something spiritual and radiant. Recently, she looked up at me and said, “Do you know Jesus died for all of us?” Oh my heart. I answered, “Yes, He did — and He loves you. He loves all the people in the whole world.” She is much like Kaitlyn was at that age—full of wonder and expression. Every time she sees me, she runs with her little arms wide open and yells, “Bonbon!” — and I can’t help but laugh and melt right into her arms.

I’m so grateful we have these children of ours. Every one of them holds a piece of my heart. They are responsible, good people — and their spouses are wonderful too.

I used to tell you how sad it was that they never got to know your mom. Now I fear they may forget you. I try to remind them — especially the little ones — how much you love them.

I love you, and I always will.

Love,
Monya

How Long Does it Take to Move?

Oh Frenchie

I love you so much… but the memories we collected in this home with our beautiful children make it so difficult to leave. Every corner of these rooms holds a moment — laughter, tears, growth, love — and though this house will no longer be ours, those memories are etched deep in my heart and mind. We had such a good life together, and I thank you for every bit of it.

It took me two months to go through all the receipts and bank statements you saved — trying to find proof about Dana. Kayla helped me by taking bags home to sort through, and last night we finally finished. I’m so glad that chapter is closed. I used to get so upset with you for leaving receipts and unopened mail everywhere. I never understood why you did it — but I do now. So, a big thank you for that. We found a lot of what we needed. I’ll admit, there were moments I wanted to be mad at you… But now I see your intentions with a new understanding and even some gratitude.

I’m scared, nervous, and eager all at once — all swirling together in a way I can’t quite sort out. A new way of life is coming for me. And honestly? I don’t like it. When I walk into that new house, I feel nothing. I don’t care. None of it means anything if I can’t share it with you.

I remember our first home on Seneca as if it were yesterday. You were so worried about providing for Kayla and me — the pressure weighed heavily on you. I see us on that sofa together, you explaining how much you wanted to do right by us. I remember saying, “I could live in a shoebox with you and be happy. Money? It’s just not that important.” I thought I meant that more than I really did. But I see now how important it was to you — not for greed, but for security, for stability, for family.

I remember when we got engaged, and your mom talked about her children. When she spoke about you, she looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes and told me how happy she was that you chose me — that we would build a family together. But she warned me gently: “Don’t let Eric love money more than he loves his family.” I’ve always known you loved your family more than anything. That was never the issue. You cared deeply about providing, but I always knew what truly mattered most to you — us.

No one knew you like I did. Even though you were successful in real estate, you never let it change who you were. You were humble. You were kind. And now, missing you has shown me just how rare and beautiful that combination really was. You loved your work — you loved making money — but never more than you loved our family. That was your heart.

Soon I will be moving — and I’m not sure how to do that gracefully without you. Some days it feels impossible. But thank you for loving me even when I wasn’t sure I deserved it. We had a beautiful love story — one that I will cherish forever. Remarriage is not part of my plans. I know in my soul I could never find another like you — and I don’t want to try.

I hope you are enjoying your new, beautiful life. The thought of your reunion with your parents brings tears to my eyes — but also a sense of peace. I look forward to seeing them and hugging them someday, just as I look forward to seeing you again. Until that time, I move forward — one day at a time — hoping I make you proud.

I love you — always and forever.

Love,
Monya

I Closed on the House

 Frenchie,

Today I did the walk-through on the house I purchased. I had Blake and Kayla with me, which helped so much. Not much needed fixing, but I asked them to take down the front railing so I could put out chairs and have room to sit. Honestly… am I ever really going to sit out front? It seems like such a small, strange thing, but most of the houses here have chairs out front — so of course, I had to do the same thing!

My stomach turned as I signed the closing papers. It made me sick. Part of me is still holding back, wanting to say, I don’t want to move. I want to stay in our home — the home you and I built together all those years ago. There are so many things I want but can’t have anymore. One of the biggest? You. I want you back. I want us back.

Since the house was being built, I only drove out there twice. Terry sent me pictures as it progressed, but quite honestly… I couldn’t care less. I knew the structure existed, but without you, it felt like just walls and wood.

After I left the closing, I came home and cried. I know the house is just a building, but the memories we made there — that’s what I’m leaving behind. I feel guilty — like I shouldn’t be making these big decisions without you. I still think we should make them together.

I put beams in the bedroom and my office, and brick on the walls too. I added a bathtub to the master bathroom — you know how excited I am for that first bubble bath! I even put a TV right above the bathtub — remember when we went to see Tim McGraw and Faith Hill in Las Vegas and our hotel had the TV over the bath? Yep… just like that. My favorite upgrade is the bathtub, but the ice machine comes in a close second! I know you wouldn’t have chosen any of those options, or add-ons, but I plan on staying in this house. I never want to move again. It’s hard work — emotionally and physically — but I’m trying.

I can’t tell you enough how much I miss you — your smell, your smile, your eye-rolls at me, that cute little grin you gave me so often, and even your runs to Costco and Sam’s Club. The move keeps me busy — and that distraction helps — but it’s still so weird to go to church without you. At least in the Sixth Ward, they knew me and understood why I couldn’t smile. I really don’t want to have to tell that story over and over again.

I loved being your wife — and being part of the Williams family. They have always treated me better than my own family ever did. Your mom and dad… they are the best. I miss them so much, too.

Thank you for loving me — in the good, the bad, the ugly, and through sickness and health. But the best promise we made to each other… that promise is what will bring us back together again.

See you soon.
Love,
Monya

---

Christmas 2024

 

Frenchie,

You’ve been gone for ten months now. This is our first Christmas without you.

Last night, all I could think about was how many times I drove with you on Christmas Eve to get gift cards for the kids. You loved Christmas — it was always such a big part of our children’s lives. Now, looking back on all those years, I want to establish traditions that our children and grandchildren will remember long after I am gone to be with you. I’m not very good at traditions… well, at coming up with them — so I’ll have to ask around for help.

I woke up this morning and looked at your face on the pillow, whispering a quiet Merry Christmas. I took a shower and got ready for the day, but this year I didn’t put much effort into decorating. It didn’t seem right without you. Honestly… nothing seems right without you. I’m still trying to process the fact that you are gone — and the terribly tragic moment on that beach when I watched you leave me. The nightmares are still unbearable.

This Christmas was very quiet. None of the kids came over. I drove by Blake and Chloe’s home… and then by Kaitlyn and Brian’s. But I didn’t stay. It hurts to think that our grandchildren will not know you — the laughter you brought, the joy you added to this family, especially on Christmas Day. Thank you for all the years and Christmases we spent together; they truly were magical.

Dr. Lettieri called me today to check on me. I thought that was really sweet of him — a kindness I didn’t expect, but one that warmed my heart.

I found myself thinking about that Kathy Lee watch. I teased you so much when I opened it, knowing exactly where you bought it — Walmart, the night before Christmas — with Mike Scow by your side, hunting for anything that would make Jenny and me happy. I still have that watch, still in the box it came in. You swore up and down it wasn’t from Walmart, but we both knew the truth. We got so many laughs out of that moment, and you were always such a good sport when I teased you.

I keep thinking about Christmases past — and I cannot think of one that wasn’t full of fun and joy because Christmas meant so much to you. I remember our first Christmas after we were married. We had Kayla and Blake. They were so little, but you made sure Kayla felt extra special that day. Blake was only a few months old, so we knew he wouldn’t remember — and I’m sure Kayla doesn’t either — but you bought her a little doll, and she loved it.

I was alone most of the day, and I was okay with that… until it got dark. Because then I knew I would be walking up those stairs to bed alone. And now I’m sitting on our bed, looking at your pillow and wondering what you’re doing today, where you are, who you are with. I wish I knew exactly what happens after death… all I know for sure is that I will see you again. The covenants we made in the Temple — the promises we made to each other — will make every moment of this loneliness worth it. Eternity with you sounds perfect.

I love you so much.

Merry Christmas, Babe.
Love,
Monya

My Experience in Maui

My Experience in Maui

Eric,

I needed to discover the truth for myself. So I scheduled appointments with the Maui Police Department and the medical examiners who handled your case after your passing. I felt compelled to meet with them and ask my questions — even though it took courage, I wasn’t sure I had.

I booked a flight to Maui for December and counted down to that trip for three months. To prepare spiritually for what I would discover there, I dedicated myself to studying the scriptures and praying. I wanted strength and peace before I set foot on that island again.

I rented a condo nearby and spent almost a week there before my meetings. You know me — I needed time to pace the floors, process everything, and wrestle with my thoughts. I stayed mostly inside, venturing out only once a day for a meal and a quiet sunset over the ocean.

Oh, and I met Linda and Kevin Bennett for dinner one night. I treasure my friendship with Linda — she kept me sane through the worst parts of my childhood, and she is one of the few who truly understands me. I will always love her. I thought of Jami too — how early she left this life, and how much I wish I could still be in touch with her.

My first appointment was with the police. When I saw the officer who helped lift you from the sand and guided me onto the ambulance that day, I immediately recognized him. He gave me a hug and asked how I’ve been. Most people ask out of courtesy, but I wasn’t fine. I haven’t been fine. I’ve been unraveling.

I asked about the witnesses—and whether they knew their names. They don’t release that information and ask why I wanted it. The truth was, I didn’t need the names — I was just talking, trying to connect dots in my head. I forgot to bring my notebook with my questions. Typical me. But after thanking them, they confirmed what the death certificate said: you drowned.

The next day, I met with the two medical examiners who performed your autopsy. I remembered barely anything from that day — just fragments —, and I needed clarity.

I asked if you were already gone before the EMTs worked on you for 45 minutes. They told me most likely, yes. The moment they said that, my eyes filled with tears. They gently explained that none of your organs — including your heart — showed trauma or inflammation. As they spoke, my own heart began pounding. I thought I might throw up. I shook my head “no” through much of it, remembering that awful day and reliving it with a different perspective. I cried hard.

They told me you died of what’s called a “dry drowning.” When I asked what that was, they explained that it’s most common in toddlers who accidentally inhale air into their lungs and never show distress — yet don’t wake up the next day. They said that when an adult drowns in Hawaii with no water in the lungs, doctors first want to know if there were heart issues. That might be why the EMTs asked me if you had ever had heart problems while they were working on you.

Their conclusion was compassionate and straightforward: In their opinion, you were caught in rough surf, probably panicked or fainted, and that’s when you drowned, and your spirit departed. They assured me you felt no pain. I left with a clearer understanding, and even though the truth was heavy, their patience and kindness gave me the answers I needed.

On my final morning, I knelt and prayed — asking Heavenly Father for strength once again. I drove to Black Rock Beach and sat in the car, listening for answers… but nothing came at first.

I brought a journal and something comfortable to sit on, hoping words or impressions might come to me. As I walked the path you and I had walked hand-in-hand just ten months earlier, the pain resurfaced. I stopped where Jori and I had once sat, remembering your hug and that last kiss you gave me. I remembered the moment you said to me, “I love you. I’ll see you soon.” Hearing you say it felt strange then… but meaningful now.

As I sat beside the place where your spirit left your body, memories came flooding back.

I watched your body being pulled from the water — blue and still — and I sat next to you as the EMT's tried to revive you. When they called the time of death, I screamed, “No! Please no, don’t leave me!” — the exact words that now play back in my memory like a nightmare. The police officer gently helped me up and into the ambulance.

I wrote this in my journal:

I just want the Lord to help me escape this storm I can’t get away from. People ask how they can help, but I don’t know what to tell them. I want to be brave and move forward, but I feel alone. It’s been almost ten months since I lost my favorite person — my sweet husband — in this very spot. I pray every morning and night, trying to appear strong, yet I still question why this happened, why you? Why now?

As I sat there, the waves crashed in and out, and something incredible happened — something only Heavenly Father could have orchestrated.

Suddenly, everything went quiet. I sensed His presence so strongly I looked to my right … and there you were. Sitting beside me. Young. Peaceful. Beautiful. You looked at me and said softly, “Hello, sweetheart.”

I couldn’t touch you… But I could see you and hear you. Just the two of us on that beach. At first, I thought it was a dream — like those dreams I had of your mom when she passed, or the spiritual experiences I had during my cancer journey. But this felt different. I wasn't dreaming this was Real.

You looked at me and said, “Don’t cry. I am so happy. I’m with mom and dad.”

I began asking questions — some you couldn’t answer — but one you could: “Were you scared? Did you have pain?”

You told me there is nothing negative where you are. Nothing at all. You confirmed you did not die in pain, and that you are no longer scared or anxious. You told me it is beautiful where you are and that God is real. You said you watched me on the beach after your spirit left your body — saw my fear and pain — but could do nothing to help.

Then you said something that pierced my heart:

“Believe me — Heavenly Father is proud of you.”

You reminded me of the strength I’ve had throughout my life. You told me that before I came to earth, He knew I would face trials… but if I stayed close to the Lord, I would be blessed through them — and grow into the woman He designed me to be.

You told me to give my heart to Heavenly Father — that He sees beauty from within. And then you whispered… “You are beautiful.”
I thought of all the times you told me that, even when I struggled to believe it — especially after my facial paralysis. I cried, embarrassed by how much it meant.

You sat with me for four hours — longer than I realized. I knew that Jesus had escorted you to me — that Heavenly Father prepared me spiritually so I could receive what I needed.

You said:

• Continue to attend the Temple.

• The covenants we made are sacred.

• Those covenants will bring us together again.

• No matter what choices our children make, we did our best.

• Jesus Christ lives and loves all of God’s children.

You reminded me that love eternal never dies — and that I will see you again.
You told me to be happy and to keep serving and preparing.

You said your work continues — that you are serving others, sharing the Gospel as a missionary in the next life. I am so proud of you.

I will keep those covenants we made in the Temple. I will continue to serve others. I will prepare to see you again.

My love for you is eternal, sacred, and deeply profound.
This isn’t goodbye…
I’ll see you soon, my love.

Love,
Monya

                                        

Vito Dies

 Frenchie, maybe you know I'm not sure, but Vito passed away on Sept 16, 2024. I will be going to his funeral tomorrow.

I'm so glad I could visit him and JoAnne a month ago. I was looking forward to living down the street from them. I haven't spoken to JoAnne, but I think she was getting prepared for him leaving. He fell on his electric scooter a month ago, which is why I went to visit them.

JoAnne told Terry, JoAnne said, "How could we lose Eric and Vito in the same year?" I am so sad for her. I think I am more sensitive about death now. I understand how she feels. I miss you so much, sometimes I still can't believe you are gone. 

I just finished reading the Book of Mormon. I don't know who could read it and not feel its truthfulness. My testimony and faith have been tested this year, but I know that when I pray, I always feel close to Heavenly Father. 

I'm so glad I have the gospel in my life. I have never needed it more than I do now. I am worried about moving into the new house and going to a new ward. Eric, we have been in this ward for over 30 years. I always thought we would never move because we loved our ward so much, but when it was split, everything changed. It's just not the same. The people in the 6th ward that we know and love have told me they feel the same about their new ward. I have been truly blessed by the prayers of many people in these wards. I will always be grateful for our connections here, but moving is the right thing to do, even if I am as scared as I am. 

See You Soon

Monya

You Are A Man of God

Hey Frenchie, I've been deciding whether to stay or stay in this house we built together. Blake showed me a house this week in Gilbert. A smaller home sounds much better than this BIG house and yard.  It's such a hard decision; we built this house as we wanted. We built this house around the pantry. Remember how adamant I was about having a big pantry? You made sure I had the pantry of my dreams. Thank you for loving me that much... lol.

I received a phone call from Lori Blandford telling me that Jeff was offering to sell me any of his specs for his cost. My initial reaction was to tell her no, I'm not ready for that yet. This is my worst nightmare. It goes to show me that I never know exactly what is going to happen next. I miss you very much. My heart is still broken. 

I cry myself to sleep every night and hold your pillow close. You are the last person on earth I could imagine dying. Mainly because you were bigger than life and loved life. I want you to know I forgive you for things I brought up to you often about our past. I appreciate that you apologized to me the night before you died, but why? Did you know you were going to die? When I look back at the last month before you passed, there are too many things you said or did that make me believe you knew this was coming. Not too many people get a second chance at life. You did and made up for so many years that I knew you felt disconnected from our children. You made that all right with them; each loves you so much.

I wish you were sitting next to me on our bed. I know you loved when I wrote in this blog. I really wish you had left more of your life experiences with the kids. You really didn't like to write things down. Lol, but I would give anything to have your journals. I read from your missionary journal that you only wrote for the first six months. What happened? I remember things you told me about your mission, but you didn't talk much about it. Did you think any of us would be disappointed in you? I hope you never felt that because the man I started dating over forty years ago was a man of God. I loved how humble you were. I saw that side of you again in the past year and a half. Heavenly Father is so happy with you. We all make mistakes, but the Atonement covers all of them. Every day, I am grateful that I married you. Not a moment goes by that I don't think about you. Save me a place. I cannot wait to see you again. I long for your fantastic hugs.

Grief

Dear Frenchie

My grief has not made me stronger, but it made me aware of all we had together. I have no choice but to learn how to function in the face of pure fear, bone-deep rage, and gut-wrenching sadness. You were my person, and now you're gone; I have no hugs, no kisses, and no "I love you" every day. I continue to pray every night for you and for our family to survive this incredible loss. I told you before, and I will continue to say, "I will NEVER get remarried." Not because I don't believe in intimacy or love, but because I could search the world repeatedly and NEVER find someone like you. You are and will always be THE BEST man for me. No one can compare.

Grief is a sadness that can only be known deep inside the devastated soul of the griever. It's this kind of despair that changes your entire life forever. I never knew how much I loved you until my heart was broken on that beach in Maui. I always thought we would have time to say, do, travel, laugh, and love more deeply. 

My entire universe was changed overnight. It's altered everything I thought I knew about myself and the world around me. And every day, I uncover more about what that even means. 

Sometimes, I feel you hold me at night like you used to. I have such a hard time sleeping, and I appreciate it when you quietly embrace me until I fall asleep. Thank you.

I realize that my feelings of grief change from day to day or even moment to moment. I will never forget you and what we shared together. Reflecting on our life together, we had much more romantic, fun vacations and everyday connections than most. 

Remember when it seemed like every one of our friends was getting divorced? That was a crazy time. But I loved that you and I always discussed those things and why people grow apart. We know why each of them broke up, and pride is a big part. Neither one could say sorry and really mean it. That was never worth an eternal marriage to you, and you fought for me to forgive you and move forward because, in the end, we made commitments to each other and promised our family would be eternal. I am so grateful for you and the man who made me a better wife and friend. 

I forgive you for putting me in positions where I felt forced to do things I didn't want to. I heard your apology, and I know how hard it was for you to say it with tears rolling down your cheeks in front of Jori and Dwight. But I promise I didn't tell them anything; your sincere apology put us all in tears. Your honesty and vulnerability were something I had never felt before, and it was an unforgettable moment. I will always hold that moment close to my heart. Only you and I know what that apology was for or what it meant to me. Thank you.

See you soon; I love you.

Monya

The Love of a Child

I have to tell my heart to beat again; I'm not sure I know how to do that without Frenchie. I love him so much. Getting used to being alone in this house is really hard. 

The evenings are the hardest. Eric and I used to kneel and pray every night together, and now he's gone, and I have to do this alone. This is the first time in my life that I have questioned my faith in God. It scares me. I cry all the time, I don't know if this is normal or not, but I'm feeling very alone. I can't ask God to return him; it hurts so bad that I wish I knew what to do.

Today, Blake, Haleigh, Brian, and I met with an attorney, Brian Holm. He wanted to talk to me alone first. I don't understand anything being said. It sounds like a Charlie Brown scene with the teacher talking, but Charlie only hears a garbled noise. I know the other side of fear is believing in myself and trusting in what I've been taught. Out of everything I've been through, this is by far the hardest. I just need to go through, feel, hate, be confused and believe I will see him again. 

When I was done listening to what the attorney said, we entered a conference room, and my children came inside. We all took our seats, and I began to ask questions. He answered every question. Then, my children asked questions, but my children already knew a lot of what he was trying to teach me. Wills, living wills, estate planning ...? I'm not supposed to know this stuff. I was going to die before Eric, and I don't care about his money, and what I own now is not anything I'm thinking about. My children are the only absolutes that I know; they are amazing. They are graceful; I could not have gotten through this meeting without them.

I told the attorney I was there to set up my will and trust for my children; this was the only way I could see honoring their dad, and I didn't want any confusion or hurt feelings with my children. I broke down and cried a little; it was so comforting to have Haleigh and Blake on both sides of me. They put their hands on my shoulders, and it felt so good. I have the best children on earth, of course, I've always been proud of them, but this is so hard on them, and they are trying to comfort me? I feel like, as their mother, I should cry alone so they don't see my weakness. The tears release my pain; if I have to dry my eyes and wipe my cheeks every day of the year, I will. This is not going away. 

After we finished with the attorney, Brian took me home. Easter is on Sunday, and I am not prepared, so I went to Target and got a few little things for my grandchildren. I also stopped by Kaitlyn's to give Flo her birthday present—a cute stuffed bunny. Archer and Phoenix opened the door; they were so sweet. I've missed them, and I'll take any little bit of love I can get from all of them right now. Florence came running to me ... "Bonbon is here," and she hugged me as I handed her the bunny. Phoenix approached her and said, "Florence, now you have more to add to your bunny collection." How sweet of him. Florence was a tender mercy I needed today. Holding her in my arms is a gift I will always treasure. She loved her Papa and said he was her best friend. It's always amazing to me how the spirit of children is so pure and authentic.

You're the MOM

     Eric brought me home from the hospital on the evening of Nov 19th. On Tuesday, the 29th of November, I drove him to the surgery center, just a mile from my house. I wasn't allowed to go back with him until he went into surgery like he always did with me. Before he returned, we hugged and said, "I love you; see you soon." 

    I went home, waiting for the surgery center to call and say all was fine, and I never heard from them. Eric called me and said the center decided to keep him one more night. They had been giving him fluids, but he could not go to the bathroom. I asked about his chest pain and if he still had acid reflux. He said yes, but they were giving him Prilosec. We talked until he fell asleep, and I said, "I love you too; see you soon."

    When he got home, his face was white; he said he was lightheaded, but he could not sit or lie down. We walked during the night, and I could see he was in pain. I ordered smoothies for both of us in the morning, and he said it made him feel better. I told him I had to get my blood taken and I'd be back in an hour. I asked him if he thought he would be okay if I left him for the tests. He told me to go and that he would be ok. I handed him his phone; his walker was next to his recliner, but he hadn't slept all night, so I asked him if he wanted half of something to help him sleep for a while. Looking back on this, I am not one to live with regrets, but this was the biggest regret of my life, I wish I'd never left him.

    I wasn't home in an hour; the doctor's receptionist told me I was late and that my appointment was at Thunderbird Mayo Clinic. This was not a close drive, I worried about leaving Eric, but went against my judgment and left for the appointment. My daughter Kayla went to check on Eric. Then she called me back to tell me she had called 911. I was already on my way home but could not drive fast enough, my heart was racing, and I was scared.

    I made it home with firetrucks, an ambulance, and one officer, and my heart was beating as they rushed him to the emergency room: Kayla drove me there. When they got oxygen on him, he said he felt much better. We were there for several hours, and his blood pressure was going too low, then too high. He was able to speak to us and was coherent. I called Clarence Schaub and Kyhl Powell and asked if they could bless Eric. He loves them, so he was happy when they arrived. Soon after that, Kayla came back, and the ER personnel said it would be better if I left and got some sleep because it would be a while for his room to be ready. Eric begged me to go home with someone else; I told him Kayla had brought me and would take me home but that I really didn't want to leave him like this, I didn't want this to be the last time I could talk to him. Eric assured me he was well cared for, I teared up saying, "I don't want this to be our last conversation." Eric told me to stop talking like that, he would be fine.

    At 2:36 am, I received a call saying they had intubated him, and he was in an induced medical coma, and now he was in the Heart Hospital next door, but there are strict visiting hours in the ICU. I could not go until 9:00 am and waiting for that long was challenging. The last thing I said before I came home from the ER was, I begged Eric to let me stay; he said, "No, you are still recovering, I love you, but I'm in good hands and feel better. I'll see you tomorrow," I said, "I love you."

        When I first looked at Eric, I cried. He looked so vulnerable, and I KNOW he was scared when he couldn't breathe. Someone from my family is always with him. 

    The cardiologist, Dr. Greene came into the waiting area and was trying to talk to me, but Kaitlyn kept asking questions and standing in front of me while trying to give me information about Eric. He finally asked who she was, she said she was his daughter and he told her he needed to talk to me as his wife and Power of Attorney. Dr. Greene told us that Eric's arteries were completely blocked and calcified. It was possible that Eric had been having many little heart attacks over the years, and obviously didn't know about it. The doctor tried to cut through it with three different scalpels but could not budge it. He told us we were keeping him on life support to see if he could wake on his own, but if he came out of the coma and could breathe on his own, he had a long road ahead of him. I tried so hard to keep my emotions to myself but felt like I was not being respected by my children, Kaitlyn was rolling her eyes at every question I had for the doctor. She has had a problem with me for a few years, and I lost control of my emotions. I asked why she rolled her eyes at me, and her answer was "I roll my eyes at everyone." I continued in a harsh manner to ask her why she didn't like me, and why she was so mean to me. It started a horrible loud argument. The doctor could not tell us my husband who I have been with for over 40 years would make it through the night. It scared me so badly; Eric and I have always trusted each other but we have never discussed his investments. I knew about insurance and investments he and I had invested together, but I knew there were investments he made, and I did not want to lose anything Eric had worked on and loved so much, Eric is all about buying low and selling high.  My oldest daughter Kayla, said, "I can't believe you are worried about money when your husband could be dying. All you care about is Dad's money." ' I told her I know exactly how much money I will get from insurance Dad has always been good about keeping that up to date. From early in our marriage until now. I was talking about his investments and not knowing how to take care of any of that. How could she say something like that, my husband may be her Dad but she has no idea what goes through a woman's head when she thinks her husband is going to die. 

      It is now December, and I am hopeful Eric will make it through this and that even if we have to celebrate in the hospital I would, because this is his favorite time of year. When I'd get home at night there were always boxes from Amazon to bring in. I was trying to be aware of those to make sure each one of our grandchildren got a bean bag for themselves Dad and I thought that would be an easy gift and that the children would love it. When I opened them, I realized two were going to be too little for Recker and Ezra and I needed to return these and get bigger chairs for them. I had one day to do that so it would get to my house by Christmas. Then the next day I thought it would be a better day with Eric and with my children, but I was wrong. 

      I whispered to Eric how much I needed him and that I knew he was with his mom and dad, but not to get too comfortable up there because his family needed him, and that he and I still have a lot of life together. I played some songs from my phone quietly next to his ear. "I don't think I can do life without you, please come back to me."     

     In the waiting room was another story, I tried to be less combative but when Kaitlyn pulled her shirt over and said to me, "Look Mom, I don't have any garments on." She was trying to get a rise out of me. I said to her, "And...?" Why would I care if she had garments on? I knew she was trying to start something, so I said to her, "Why do you hate me so much?" Wrong question, I heard everything I have ever done wrong to her. Then I told her how she had hurt me too. This started an argument, Kayla told me, "But you're the mom." I wish I had a nickel every time I've heard that from her. Now I've heard it from all my girls. 

     Does that mean, my children are allowed to hurt my feelings, and be disrespectful and unkind just because I am their mother?  Kayla told me she is Autistic, and that one threw me for a loop as her mother I wondered why I didn't know about this when she was younger. I wanted to know what her doctor told her, and she blew up at me, she said, "So you think I'm lying? I don't have to show you my medical records." Because there is a lack of communication within our family I had no idea why she would be so angry, she was a mother of three boys, one with severe nonverbal Autism and one on the spectrum but he is high functioning. After that argument, I didn't hear from her for a year. When we finally did talk to me she tried to tell me how I was supposed to talk to her now. Okay, I agree with boundaries, but this was more than that, I was supposed to learn a whole new way of speaking to her after 34 years? Overnight, I was expected to speak to her as she requested. Dad and I talked about it and she had never said a word to him, he could speak to her like we always have. Why is he not held to a higher level? Because I'm the mom? She also said to me, "I was abused by someone, and it was in your home?" Very accusatory, I asked where? She said in our house in the Islands, when I asked who it was, she said "It is none of your business." Wow, I wonder if someday, God forbid, she finds out Recker was abused by a respite worker. When I watched him while she worked and she accused me of sexually abusing Recker, seriously? What is wrong with her? I would never touch one of my grandchildren or any child in that way EVER. It was then that I was no longer allowed to watch any of her children. That hurt me so badly, and Dad was angry too of all people in the world why in the hell would she think I would do such an evil thing to my grandchild? After that event, I wouldn't want to be alone with her children for fear she would turn me into CPS for something she 'thought' was real. 

     Back in the hospital waiting room, I decided after Blake started yelling at me that it was time for me to calm down and stay away from Kaitlyn, well actually all my children. Blake and my relationship has always been different than what I had with the girls of course they think he's always been my favorite. I said nothing to him. I know him, he can be as mad at me as he can and it's over, he tells me when I'm out of line, forgiveness is given on both our parts and it's over. My mom said that was exactly how I was growing up. These millennials have a new way of communicating and if it doesn't go their way, even if you are their mom, they are done with you. Kicked me out of their life like a piece of trash. 

     I spent some more time with Eric and then went home. I was crushed again just because I'm the mom. Why couldn't they say, "Mom that really hurt when you said ......" Then we could work on that? Why wait years and years to bring up things I don't even remember as a mother. I don't care what they think I was a good mother, and I am an excellent grandmother. I showed up at the hospital in the morning and all my kids were there, Kayla and Kaitlyn came back from visiting their dad and they said the nurses were doing something so no one could go back for an hour and a half. I watched as they ignored me but were perfectly had to order the right beanbags today. Kayla once again, thinking of herself, turned to me and said, "I can't believe your husband is dying and you are asking about Christmas. I can't talk to you. And I've told you how to speak to me." HUH? I just didn't want her children to be the only ones without a beanbag big enough for them. I guess because I'm the mom, It's not okay to ask questions about Christmas gifts that would have surely hurt their feelings if they got nothing, but it's okay when your dad is dying to be laughing at TIK TOK.

        I stood up to go see Eric and my girls blocked me saying, "Dad doesn't want you here, he said you are trying to kill him." I knew there was no way he said that, we may not be the perfect examples of parents, but Eric and I are in love and have been together for over 40 years. WTF was going on, I just knew Kayla and Kaitlyn had something to do with this, they would hurt me that much to get back at me ... just because I'm the mom. I was so embarrassed I ran to the EXIT to leave, and Haleigh followed me, she said, "Mom do you trust me?" My mind was all over the place. I had no idea what I said to her, but I do trust her. Haleigh is quieter in nature than any of the other children. Haleigh has been through the most with me. She helped take care of me when I was so sick during chemo and radiation, I will always be grateful to her, I ruined her senior year of HS.   

     The next day I came back, and the ICU guard told me I was not allowed in the hospital, that patients were at risk with me there, and especially my husband who thought I wanted to kill him. I said, "I am his POA, I would never hurt him EVER. Who put my name on this list?" She looked at me and said, "Kaitlyn, she is now his POA."   

     I was escorted out by security and asked not to come back. I was crying hysterically, and when I was walking to my car I looked up and saw my children watching me walk to my car.

     So now, I went home and waited for word about my husband but still would not be allowed in the hospital let alone ICU. I was hurt worse than I ever have been and what's worse I knew they didn't care. Blake came by the house that night ringing the doorbell banding on doors wanting to talk to me, but I couldn't, I was in shock still just staring around not knowing what to do next. I'm sorry Blake, I was in a whirlwind of emotions and did not know what to believe. 

      When Eric woke up, Blake called me, told me, and said he would be leaving for a rehab facility in a few days. I asked him if Dad had asked about me, and he said, "No, but you called me while I was in Eric's room and excused himself. When I came back in the room all he had to say was 'Was that mom?' I told him yes, and all he said was "Is she mad?" 

     He was awake and didn't want to know about me? It just didn't seem right, but my kids were in charge and taking over my marriage right before my eyes. I had no idea why he said what he said, I thought he was under life support. Now he's awake and it was obvious that I was not included in any choices about his care. After a couple of months, Haleigh called and wanted to know if Scott and Brian could come over and get his bed for where he was moving. I told her no if he wanted anything from the house, he needed to call me himself.

     And he did within five minutes. I told him unless he talked to me my divorce attorney had said nothing was to be removed from the house, which was no problem because that night someone tried to break in. The next day I went to Home Depot and took a quick course from one of the workers on what the best lock was and how to install them. 

    I told him I spoke with his financial planner that Eric always had me in mind when he made any investments and that it was better under these circumstances for me to take care of as much as I could now. I cried myself to sleep every night, and not once slept in the bed he and I shared.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

    When I sat at home alone, I thought about how we didn't have a will written since my first daughter was born; I wasn't worried about money. He and I have discussed the insurance each of us would get if the other passed. But one thing we have never really talked about was his investments. I knew he had many, all with my name on them. Eric loves selling; his passion is getting a deal on the property, then turning around and making twice as much. I tried to explain to my kids I know the insurance policy on myself, my kids, and grandchildren-they will be taken care of. But they seemed angry at me for talking about dad's money; I told them this isn't about money. I have yet to learn about his investments. I've just always trusted him as a businessman. He never had to ask me about investments because I knew he wouldn't buy anything unless he knew we'd make money on it.

XOXO Monya BonBon

Meningitis

Eric took this at just the right moment.

    I'm on vacation as of 10 minutes ago. Eric is so excited about going away for a few days, as am I. We arrived at our condo in Mexico around 4:00pm. The weather was refreshing with a slight breeze from the ocean. The resort was quiet, and most importantly we found a great parking spot, Eric is having his second hip replaced on Tuesday, and we will have a few days to enjoy being together. Lately I've been so busy trying to finish "Pebbles in my Pocket," learning to let go of the things you can't control." and the "Happiness Junkie, #KindnessMatters. We haven't had much time together and we wanted time away.

          He rarely complains, but since his last surgery, he has had terrible acid reflexes that sound like they hurt. He said it hurt his chest. We stayed in the condominium but had so much fun lying on the sofa watching movies and keeping up on the Local Government election. We ate popcorn, snacks, and sandwiches for dinner, and then we went out.

           We had intimate conversations about the trials we have had and how after 40+ years we have served one another, forgiven one another, and learned more about each other, as far as our wants and needs we began writing our goals for 2023. We talked about our children, each one of them. Eric and I did our best to raise four responsible adults. Now it is their time to live the life they want and what makes them happy.

        We are both looking toward retirement and have written our goals for the next five years. He is so excited to start building our home in Mexico and selling a few condos, and then He surprised me with the layout of the house in Mexico and wanted to know my advice. Together we changed a few things, like bedroom sizes, bathroom placement, etc.

        On Monday, I woke up unable to balance, I ran into walls, and my right eye looked infected and bright red. I had a migraine like I've never had and eventually started having some hallucinations, people looked short, fat, and pregnant, even the men. I took a migraine medicine to hopefully help the pain as we drove from Mexico to the Mayo Clinic. On the way home, I spoke with Dr. Lettieri since it looked like it was an eye infection. I asked if we should come to County Hospital or Mayo Clinic. He said Mayo since the Maricopa Hospital does not have an ophthalmologist in the ER. then asked Eric to text him with an update from Mayo Clinic.

        In the Emergency Room, I was taken for a CT scan, lots of drug testing, and ordered an MRI. By now, my hallucinations were constant with my eyes open or closed. I could not take any pain medication because they did not want to alter the results, and medicines can do that. I was given a spinal tap, and I thought about my youngest granddaughter Florence, she has spina bifida, and I wondered how many times in her life she would have to do this. It helped me to stay still so the doctor could do this spinal tap quickly.

        I didn't get to my room until around 3:00 a.m. I texted Dr. Lettieri knowing he would be up and getting ready for work. Dr. Lettieri was in surgery at Mayo when I updated him. He came from surgery to check on me. He knows my story from the beginning to now. He found out who my Neurosurgeon was on duty and gave him the background. He told my neuro team this had nothing to do with my eye. Eric and I love Dr. Lettieri, Eric is always saying how lucky we are to have him on speed dial as we have had to use him several times. The Neurosurgeon respects Dr. Lettieri and was glad he called him so they could eliminate the eye as the main reason for the migraine and hallucinations.

        That night they took me in for the MRI around 10:00 pm. I asked Eric to go home, it's a long ride for him, and I wanted him to get home safely. He didn't want to leave, but I knew his hip was hurting, and he needed rest.

        The MRI was less than a fun time, I had to wear a mask in a tube that was already claustrophobic. It really scared me, so I closed my eyes and suffered through it. When they pulled me out to administer the contrast and dye. I asked if I could take off the mask, and the technician said since I did not move a muscle during the first round, it was okay for me to keep the mask off and it made an enormous difference. The pounding on my migraine made me throw up several times back to my room, and for the next couple of days...still had no pain medicine.

        Dr. Hasan, who is on my neurologist team, came into my room with Kayla and Eric, she finally had a diagnosis, I had viral meningitis. The swelling between my brain and the lining of the brain was infected and swollen, and this was what the hallucinations were coming from. Kaitlyn once again debated with a neurosurgeon through our family text. I did not have my phone, but Eric was reading it to me. Since Florence has spina bifida, she said the spinal fluid would not explain the slurred speech and hallucinations. It really hurt when Eric read that to me, A nurse happened to be in the room and then told my neurology team what she heard. She also heard me ask Eric if he thinks they all think I'm crazy, and he answered, "Yes."

            Dr. Hasan came to my bedside after Eric and Kayla left for the night. She held my hand and said the nurse told her about the conversation. She said, "I don't care if your family thinks you're crazy; you tell them what is happening to you, and the things you see are as real as they can be." Dr. Hassan said it is normal, and they've seen it before with meningitis patients. I thanked her for telling me this was normal. They ran every street drug test they could and knew I was not on drugs or that no alcohol use had happened. When the surgeon came in, he said Dr. Lettieri told him what was happening had nothing to do with any of the surgeries he had done. I also asked him to read the family text thread and tell me how to answer my daughter without causing more problems. His answer was, "I didn't get my degree from Google." I realized he read it the way I did like she doubted me without me saying anything about the contention this daughter has had about me for years. I decided it was not worth addressing, so I let it go. I just want peace and love in our family. But I was glad to know she was checking on me, I really think she doesn't like me.

        I felt like I couldn't get anyone to believe what I was seeing on the walls, ceiling, and floors. I asked Eric "Do you think the doctors think I'm crazy?" and he said, "I'm pretty sure they do, but I've known you longer than anyone. This is not normal behavior for you and yes, I believe you."

        The neurologist explained to me that from the spinal tap, they did the first night, they knew it was meningitis. Then they grew cultures from the fluid of the spine. I was told after the MRI my brain looked 'beautiful', and the infection was not in my eye it was in the brain area. They told me Meningitis is either Bacterial or Viral, one not worse than the other, simply different procedures to treat. If someone comes into the ER with bacterial Meningitis, they send them home with antibiotics. When it is Viral, they must first find out the source of where it is coming from, which showed in between the brain lining and the brain, for it can take 10 days to clear up, but they've seen three months of recovery. They said I could not return to work when I was released. I spent most of my vacation in the hospital.

I took another 13 days for MLOA from American Airlines. I'm nervous about Eric's surgery tomorrow. Since his first hip surgery in August, he's had chest pains and horrible acid reflexes. 

He has cared for me as my caregiver for so long, and now I will have a chance to serve him when he comes home tomorrow.

XOXO Monya Bonbon