A Year of Grief

 It feels surreal tonight. I saw him last two weeks ago today. He carried Caroline out like he always did. Buckled her in. Sometimes when we left he would say "love you" or "be good" or "be careful". Often if the kids were being wild he would say "good luck with that!" And duck his head laughing, say bye and go back into the house. I'm pretty sure that Wednesday was a "good luck with that" day.  After that, one laughing reaction on Instagram to a Reel about putting sugar on cereal, a staple in our house as kids.  And then...he's gone. And it doesn't feel real. I can do all the different tasks and jobs and errands that you do after someone dies. And be fine. But while thinking about Caroline, and school, and pickups. He only picked her up once from school. I'll probably remove him from the list sooner than later, just for security reasons. You never know. But that is what broke me tonight. I remember removing Jenny from A...

 To go back to our regular lives is so strange. I don't like it. I feel like I'm walking in mud. Or like I am operating while on half a dose of Benadryl. I don't quite know how to do the things that all came easily to me two weeks ago. I was already prone to overstimulation and now it's unbearable. I have to work, answer phones, make appointments, talk to people...as if things are normal. And they're not normal. None of this is normal. This week I made calls to make sure my mom doesn't have to go through probate to put the cars in her name. Blessedly, she doesn't need to go through the court and can just do it as a "surviving spouse" transfer. It's a surreal call to be making when your mom isn't even 59 yet.  The kids have school. We test drove a car (because right before all this happened, my husband's car was totaled). I'm trying to pick up the pieces of my life that existed two weeks ago and find my way with them again. I know ev...

Jennifer now rests eternally with Dad. Returning the necklaces with her ashes back to the rest of her ashes in Dad's casket is one of those really weird, beautiful, and terrible full circle moments. He put the ashes in the necklaces for us. It was not an easy task. When Shanda at the funeral home said that he could have asked for their help, as they have tools to make it easier, I told her while that was true, I know he did it as an act of love. He chose a day where it was just him at home to do it. And Mom and I then got our necklaces for Christmas. So yesterday at the funeral home, I took the pendant off my necklace and put it with Mom's, and placed them on Dad's chest. It was very difficult, but it was the plan all along.  And the sisters sitting on the moon necklace that Jenny gave me her last Christmas with us, isn't lonely on the chain. I added my Daddy necklace charm to it. We got those the Christmas after her initial diagnosis. And I never really wore it, but it...

Oh Dad. I don't know if I'll ever understand this. And maybe I'm not meant to understand it. I hope the obituary I wrote for you is up to your standards. I know you like a properly written obituary with names, places, and dates. Your binders of obituaries were always an interesting read.  Dad... to you love was an action and you never stopped moving. The giant gaping hole in our hearts and lives is a wound that I don't know will heal. I love you.  Randall “Randy” Joseph Honigford OTTOVILLE - Randall "Randy" Joseph Honigford, age 60, went home to the Lord, unexpectedly on February 26th, 2026, at Mercy Health - Putnam County Emergency Services in Glandorf. He was born on January 29, 1966 in Lima, to the late Gerald and Carol (Spieles) Honigford. On December 6, 1985, he married his high school sweetheart and love of his life, Joyce (Fischer) Honigford in Kalida and she survives him in Ottoville. They celebrated 40 years of marriage in December. Randy graduated fr...

Almost exactly four years ago, my dad wrote to you all that it was with great sadness and a profound sense of joy, that he could announce that our dear beloved Jenny had gone home to the Lord. I hate that today I have to post that it is with such deep sorrow, but still that sense of joy, that I can say my dad is now reunited with his little girl in Heaven. Dad died suddenly yesterday. He was there. And then...he wasn't. The only thing that gives us comfort is our faith in God and belief that he is with Jenny, as well as his parents, with Christ our Lord.  I know he didn't want to leave us. Not now. Not this way. Not this soon. But as my son said last night, I'm so sad, but happy he is with Jenny, and a million times jealous that he got to hug her.  I am numb with grief. Mom is fighting a grief I can only imagine. Matt is stepping into the role of the rock. The kids...I don't know how they begin to understand. So many stepped in to help yesterday. Thank you. Please pray ...

Four years ago I was home with Andrew. Chris and his mom were helping me make lasagna. I had woken up with a sense of peace that I hadn't felt in many, many days. That afternoon I looked up and saw Matt walking up the sidewalk. I said "oh Matt stopped by" not even thinking why he would be there unannounced.  He walked in. I saw his face. I asked if she was gone and he nodded before hugging me. And then he took me to my parents' house. They were on their way home, and got there a little before we did. Together, we went to my grandparents house to tell them my sister, Jenny, had gone home to God.  Last Thursday was the date I last saw Jenny four years ago. Our last visit. Last laugh. Last hug. We prayed together. And I left. By the time I got home the world as we knew it was upside down. She wasn't going to make it longer than a handful of days. Last Thursday I lost my dad. Without warning or preamble. Just one second I'm working, and the next I'm driving to...