All posts by Carolyn Barrett

Letting go

Home, , , ,

Sometimes, you have to let go of the past to make way for the future. For me, this has never been easy. I have a basement full of stuff to prove it! Yet there comes a time when something you’ve dreamed of for what feels like forever, well, it just becomes obvious that the dream is over.

And so it was with my Ford Falcon. Not just any old Falcon, mind you, but my favorite. A 1968 Ford Falcon Futura Sports Coupe, with a V-8. This baby used to turn heads back in a day. Any run to the local auto supply store was sure to elicit comments, compliments and questions.  I suppose because I was a woman involved in the hobby, it drew extra attention. Continue reading Letting go →

A Mother Never Forgets

Home, , , , , ,

It was a beautiful, sunny spring day when I gave birth to a stillborn boy on May 14th, 1983. I can remember it like it was yesterday. He was 6lbs 1oz, and there was not a thing wrong with him. His passing was attributed to a cord accident.

I am telling you this for one reason. To acknowledge him- that he was alive, that he existed and was loved.

Back then, doctors and nurses weren’t trained in how to handle such losses. I was pretty much left alone in my grief. There were no pictures taken, no family surrounding me in the hospital, no one holding him and getting to know him. Continue reading A Mother Never Forgets →

Thoughts On Easter

Home, , ,

Over the years, I’ve been known by different last names at different times. Yes, I’ve been married more than once. I messed up, made some bad decisions, followed by more bad decisions. But like the woman who was about to be stoned, I hear Jesus say, “Go, and sin no more.” Continue reading Thoughts On Easter →

Letter To My Friend

Home, , ,

My dear friend,

It’s so hard to believe you’re gone. It wasn’t unexpected, and yet it was. Because you fought so long and hard, it seemed this day would never come. And yet it has.

My mind tells me to be happy your suffering is over and I am. I truly am. But my heart selfishly wants you here, to share in the life we are still traveling through.

When I heard you didn’t have much time left, I felt an odd sense of peace and relief. Your struggle was about to end, and you would head to the next life. The one where there is no more pain, no more sorrow, and no more tears. But once you were gone? My own tears began to flow. Continue reading Letter To My Friend →