My son
Last weekend my husband and I went to a Merrill Lynch function and while we were there my step-daughter's semi-boyfriend (we haven't quite …
My name is Mary McNamara. I live In Sarasota, Fl. I am retired (am early gift from my husband). I have a daughter and 4 grandchildren. My daughter and my grandchildren are my greatest joys and loves in my world and in my life, but I never want to forget my son, Terry, that committed suicide 2/12/08. He, too, was the love of my life, he just didn't understand it and would not accept the love offered to him. He was bipolar, though I did not discover this until after his death. I am also a Christian, and the Lord has seen me through some very rough patches in my life. It would take a novel to describe them all so lets just say that while I have had some good years, I have also had some bad years. I always land on my feet, thanks to the Lord, my Savoir.
My name is Mary McNamara. I live In Sarasota, Fl. I am retired (am early gift from my husband). I have a daughter and 4 grandchildren. My daughter and my grandchildren are my greatest joys and loves in my world and in my life, but I never want to forget my son, Terry, that committed suicide 2/12/08. He, too, was the love of my life, he just didn't understand it and would not accept the love offered to him. He was bipolar, though I did not discover this until after his death. I am also a Christian,
My interests lay in reading, watching TV, playing on the compter, watching movies until all hours the night.
My interests lay in reading, watching TV, playing on the compter, watching movies until all hours the
Last weekend my husband and I went to a Merrill Lynch function and while we were there my step-daughter's semi-boyfriend (we haven't quite …
As Christmas gets closer and closer I think more and more of my son. Of course I have the good memories of him as a child, but the last several …
You are more than welcome Mary. God Bless.
hi Mary,
Sorry i have not responded for so long. i am ok. i live in Connecticut. yes, i need people to talk to when i have a migraine. i will try to remember you. i can be e-mailed directly at michellehoper@yahoo.com
hi how are you doing i am ok got back from vaction friday.very tired travel on a greyhound bus from michigan.my son is not with me.but is getting help he needs sometimes it is hard but i do the best i can.my easter i was sick did see my grandbaby girl she be a year in june she has two teeth and can stand and hold on to the playpen and saying mama and nana well going to send flowers to brighten up your day take care sheila.
If it walks like one,...and talks like one,...it must BE!! (smile!)
I now have socks with sandals on at home. (teehee!) It's okay, nobody sees!!, and it is oh, so comfy! (I couldn't resist letting you know!) Just call me your "dorky" friend! Hugs! Judy
My son committed suicide 2/12/08 by jumping off the Sunshine Skyway Bridge in St. Petersburg, FL. Since that time I have had a mixture of feelings. Mostly guilt. How could I be a good mother and have a son commit suicide? How could I have missed the signs?
Migraines run in my family and I have had them my entire life, but now as I get older arthritis has set in too which has increased the pain. Still, nothing is as bad as the migraines where I have to be in a dark room, I throw up constantly, and the only thing that keeps me halfway calm is ice. I am usually down for at least 2 days. Sometimes longer.
I was raped when I was 13 years old, as well as being molested by an older brother. I kept it bottled inside of me my entire life, and the only people that knew were family. I am now 55 years old and I still find it hard to talk about yet I can recall every last detail of it.
My older brother molested me for years. My father turned a blind eye to it, but my mother blamed me calling me all kinds of names that are not fit for print. I became withdrawn, which led me to a rape at the age of 13. My mother then kicked me out of the house. I never told anyone. I lived with the shame the guilt, and when my parents took my back in, it was never spoken of again.