Beyond The First Weeks Are You Worried About: Fill & Download for Free

I am. I became a member at 17 in the year 2000. I wasn't very interested at first. I was an exchange student staying with a member family in rural Michigan. Per rules of my exchange program I had to go to church with them. I thought the service strange at first, it was something I had never before seen. But there were many young people I liked like my ex-husband's brother and some girls that I was in Young Women's with, a church program for the female youth of the church.While I had always believed in a higher being, I was raised agnostic, so the practice of going to church or praying out loud was very unfamiliar to me. During my stay I met a young man named Levi. He was very geeky and tall with glasses, the opposite of his brother who was a football jock and very outgoing. The first time I saw him was at a family dinner. Levi's parents, that is, his mother was the best friend of my host mom. Levi was two years older than me and had already graduated. He had spent the summer in Provo, Utah with his older sister and her husband attending summer classes at BYU.But from that day on he was always at my house when I came home from school. He was a tech geek and was constantly tinkering with my host mom's computer. He familiarized me with chat applications like ICQ and talked about videogames and movies. We gradually started dating, much to the excitement of my host mother who was hell-bent on setting me up with a “good catch” like the Solmes boys. But there was a big caveat. He was leaving on his mission and wasn't supposed to date or have physical contact with girls after that. So his mother was not happy and thought I was a distraction.A few months later he got his mission call. He was going on a foreign mission to Japan, which was his wish. This also meant he had to check into the MTC - the missionary training center - in Provo much sooner and stay longer for language training purposes. I was sad but put on a happy face.We didn't make any specific plans to see each other after his mission. We also didn't formally break up but promised to write. (During that time missionaries could only write letters home once a week. Phone and internet access were not allowed and social media like Facebook was non-existent.)So then in January of 2000, right after Y2K, Levi left again for Utah and while he was in the MTC, I started reading the Book of Mormon. I had been given one in German at the beginning of my exchange by the local missionaries, but I had stashed it away in the drawer of my bedside table, never thinking I would take another look at it. But I wanted to know what Levi was up to, so I could be closer to him. So I started reading it secretly. I didn't tell my host parents because I knew they'd get way too excited. So when I was a good way in I instead just announced I wanted some reading material about the church and they gave me the Gospel Principles manual and Our Search For Happiness by Elder Ballard. It was one of the books from the missionary library that I knew Levi was also studying.I really had no expectations when I first started reading. I approached this like a science project, from a completely neutral perspective. Or rather from a place of skepticism and incredulity, which was a given for me as an agnostic and secular. I never in my dreams thought I would believe or understand even half of what I was about to ingest. But then something rather strange happened. As I was reading, I had this feeling, this sudden strong flash hitting me that what I was reading was not a bunch of hullabaloo. I did a double-take. I couldn't believe myself. I thought I was going insane. But everything I read was stuff that seemed to deeply resonate with me on level that was beyond human persuasion or explanation. I knew that what I was reading was not just regular prose or a collection of life wisdoms. I felt stressed and conflicted. I knew that I could not deny the veracity of what I was reading and that I was responsible now with how I would deal with what I knew. I did not want to tell my parents, let alone my host parents. They seemed way too kooky and obsessed. They seemed to have a much more romantic idea of the church and its truths than what I felt.The next question was, how would I be able to combine my former life with what I was reading. How could I incorporate everything I learned without completely losing my former self but giving up what I knew wasn't in resonance with the Gospel. I was lucky in many ways. Much of what I already lived and believed was compatible with the Gospel and life in the LDS church. I wasn't as worried about me but about my family and friends who likely wouldn't be as receptive or accepting. Another part of me wanted to shout it from the rooftops that I had received a testimony and that I wanted to share what I knew with everybody back home. I was a zealot. I hoped I would help convert them all. After all, if it was so easy for me to believe why wouldn't it be for them. Boy, was I wrong.The first thing I did, despite feelings of caution, was tell my host mom I wanted to meet with the missionaries. She immediately set up a first appointment. So the missionaries came. Back then, the missionaries had pamphlets for each lesson, six in total, and a laminated picture board flip book to accompany lessons. I was very nervous but since I had already read so much, I knew everything. I was able to answer every question with ease. The remaining lessons went the same. I passed with flying colors. I was called a golden investigator.The missionaries issued a baptism challenge and I accepted, although I felt uneasy. It wasn't the Gospel itself that worried me but life as an official church member. I also was told that since I was still a minor, I had to ask my parents' permission. So I phoned them and explained the situation. They said it was my decision but that I had to be sure of what I was getting myself into. I said I was and a date was set and I got baptized and confirmed the day before I went home to Switzerland.Once I got back I contacted the local missionaries. I had no idea where the church was in my hometown, but they explained it to me. I kept writing letters to Levi back and forth during that time, but didn't tell him I got baptized or had been investigating. I wanted it to be a surprise. Levi's mom eventually told him, so when I got home there already was a letter from Japan on my bed, with Levi writing how happy but surprised and a little disappointed he was that I hadn't said a word. The reason for that was that I wanted it to be my decision. I didn't want him to believe I was doing it for him. I was too prideful.While I was back in Switzerland I kept mostly to the sister missionaries and international families working in Basel. I had trouble reintegrating into life in Switzerland and hence had a lot of arguments with my parents. Different from the other exchange students, not only did I have to deal with culture shock both ways, but with the fact that I had adopted a whole new belief system.While my parents were largely ok with my decision in theory, in practice they didn't enjoy my new life very much and thought I had lost my mind. They urged me to go back to Gymnasium but I rejected that idea right away. They thought it was just a temporary phase and that I would eventually change into my old self and go back. They were wrong. I acquiesced to enroll in a private school but didn't last very long. Most of my friends were very concerned about my changed life and tried to either argue against the church or to get me to do things that were against my new beliefs. The biggest surprise was that my previous and long-standing crush Marc took an increased interest in me and felt compelled to save me from the church. I persisted in my views and as a result lost most of my old friends.I lost a lot of my initial zeal and became very conflicted and depressed. I also realized I had developed severe anxiety. I couldn't even walk outside or take public transit anymore, much to the disbelief and dismay of my mother and sister. But I applied to LDS Business College in Salt Lake and by December of 2001, a few months after 9/11, I was back on American soil.I met some really great people at LDSBC, like my first roommate Janae Goodnow whose father had been mission president in El Salvador and had just recently moved with her family from California to Utah. While in El Salvador, she had learned Spanish. To my great surprise she had a CD by one of my favorite artists, Nek, who I found out was apparently not only famous in Europe but Latin America as well. That's the CD I ended up listening to when I was homesick. Two of my other unit mates were from San Bernardino, classic Cali girls. The rest were Chicanas and rancher chicks from Star Valley, Wyoming. Then there was an older lady from Okayama, Japan and two really fun Chinese girls from Hong Kong who for some reason thought of me as really funny. The girl I ended up pairing off with though was a Black girl from Spartanburg, South Carolina. I really liked her a lot and we ended up moving off campus into an apartment together.During that time Levi came back from his mission and a few months later moved out to Utah. He came to see me right away in Salt Lake after a few days in Provo. He was staying with his sister and brother-in-law again and was trying to get back into BYU and find work. One Sunday he brought me lunch and attended church with me. Another day he took me and my roommate out to the movies. After we went to see The Testaments: Of One Fold and One Shepherd in the Legacy theater at the Joseph Smith Memorial Building near Temple Square, he asked me to marry him. We were in the living room of my apartment. We had zero furniture, so we sat on the carpet. I said yes. The next question wasn't the date but which temple to marry in. We said we'd think about it and get back to it. He went home late that night and hit a couple of cones on the freeway. He later told me via chat that he had ripped the driver's rearview mirror off his car. I in turn told him I knew exactly what temple we should marry in. The Nauvoo temple in Illinois was about to be finished and become a major church historic site. Since it was near Michigan we could fly back to the Midwest and take a road trip with his parents and have a small ceremony. And that's what happened.I am unfortunately since divorced but I have four great kids that are being raised in the church. Levi and I are co-parenting fairly successfully. Ours was a civil divorce, not a temple divorce, so there's hope. My mental health has been up and down and so has my church attendance but I will never deny my testimony.

Trying to compare a harmless condensation trails from a airplane, to cloud seeding with heavy metals, is like trying to compare an apple to a orange.* Cloud seeding is done from the ground in Los Angeles area today on mobile stations.Update Nov 14, 2018*Never read if the actual spraying of silver particles are visible.Cloud seeding is done from the ground in Los Angeles area today on mobile stations.Los Angeles: Is Cloud Seeding Harmful to Your Health?LA Shot Clouds With Iodide Particles to Make it Rain Over the .https://la.curbed.com/2016/3/9/.../los-angeles-el-nino-cloud-seeding-rain-drought }temporarily unavailable ??{Mar 9, 2016 - The process of seeding involves spraying clouds with silver iodide, ... Water droplets then form around these crystals and fall as condensation.Cloud seeding requires the right conditions to produce rainsite at bottom page with awesome pictures and other links which i have not checked outRead preface page 2, NOAA Southern CALIF floods Feb 8–10 1978. NOAA Western Region Headquarters Salt Lake city Utah December 8, 1978 .pdf) report dated DEC 8, 1978. Original page two and B/W pictures attached.Just found it after many years of looking. I think I had a article from way back then but lost it. Have not lived in California since June of 1980. Read my personal comment at bottom of page.https://www.weather.gov/media/publications/assessments/Southern%20CA%20Flash%20Floods%20Feb%201978.pdfFamed scientist, Edward Teller, who at the time worked at Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory in Livermore, California and took part in the development of the Atomic Bomb and was the co-inventor of the Hydrogen Bomb, was the first scientist that came up with the theory that if you sprayed metallic particulates in the upper atmosphere you could cool the earth. A top geoengineering scientist, Ken Caldeira (Stanford University), who worked with Teller at the time, stated at the American Association for the Advancement of Science Annual Meeting in February 2010, that Teller tried to obtain funding for researching his theory but was unsuccessful.It’s now apparent that the U.S. government has implemented Teller’s theory by spraying megatons of particulate heavy metals and chemicals like aluminum, titanium, barium, strontium and sulfur hexafluoride into the stratosphere.Facts and Background InformationHughes Aircraft Patent #5,003,186 –In 1991 a U.S. patent was issued to Hughes Aircraft Company; the Stratospheric Welsbach Seeding For Reduction of Global Warming Patent (#5,003,186). It proposed injecting into the upper atmosphere, a “very fine, white talcum-like” powder of aluminum oxide, barium oxide and other oxides for the stated purpose of reducing Global Warming”.Space Preservation Act –Chemical (chem) trails is not a conspiracySilver Oxide Aerosol Spraying Heavy metal ChemtrailsAlso known as cloud seedingDrought-Stricken L.A. Admits to Using Weather Modification "To Produce More Rain"Case law, chemical tails, cloud seeding, conspiracy or coincidences with court cases dating back to the 1950’shttp://www.rbs2.com/weather.pdfChemtrailing and cloud seeding could certainly enhance the process far beyond weather manipulation. US Air Force Admits They Can Control the WeatherUpdate Nov 14, 2018I did experience a cloud seeding incident, it caused heavy rains in Los Angeles area late 1970’s. Like many thing it has gotten buried, I’m sure some people living there may remember and reading about afterward, remember Dr George Fishbeck weatherman talking on the ABC news station before TWC cable came along.'Dr. George' Fischbeck dies at 92; popular weatherman at KABC-TV - Los Angeles Times.The report. Have no trust in it for many reasons of what I learned from reading cases original court documents that can still be found on the web. Admittance can lead to liability, back then insurance carried by contractor was minimal, contractors where merely carrying out orders from the scientists doing the research, have not read whose aircraft where being used to spray the materials. In other cases have read reports of law suits filed in TX, OK, KS an other surrounding states lead to possible crop looses. Back then the researcher where the only ones that had the knowledge. Those claiming losses had the burden to prove wrong doing or mal-intent which was not possible against the government and contractors, no cases have ever been awarded any damage due to inconclusive evidence by those affected that I have read or come across.Weather research in those days was still in very infant stages, compared to what we have today the sophisticated weather satellites can probably track the cloud inversions today, which held and hold smog around for weeks could have held those materials sprayed for a few days{then} .Is it possible those silver iodide particles that are sprayed can stay aloft with the smog layer for a day, that smog gets so thick you can not see the top of the mountain 5,500 ft standing at the bottom.During the worst days it is not even possible to see Los Angeles downtown tallest building from the Hollywood sign that is 6.9 miles awayMuch damage to dead trees along the highest portion of Los Angeles Crest Highway CA2 was already evident in 1975 by many dead trees on top of ridges. I had forestry classes and went to the San Gabriel Mountains National Monument and other forests along Malibu mountains some parts which have probably been burning during the past few days as Nov14, 2018. surrounding the Los Angeles area. With a US Forestry instructor KLAUS RADKE he was bewildered as he had never seen that damage to the forests in his native forests in Germany.Awesome pictures of GROUND LEVEL – EARLIEST PHOTO – WAVE VORTICES – PROPELLER VORTICES – ‘SHOCK’ CLOUDSNASA | JazzRoc versus "Chemtrails"

First off, get a book called “The Grief Recovery Handbook.” I mention this for a reason. It states all the things you SHOULD NOT SAY AND DO to someone who has lost their spouse.I lost my wife in 2015. I’ll share the list with you here.Don’t feel bad.Replace the loss.Grieve aloneJust give it time.Be strong for others.Keep busy.Now I am going to tell you, these a the straight-forward statements of the many platitudes people use when someone dies and addressing their loss. I’ll be honest with you. Death FUCKING SUCKS AND IT HURTS!!!Here is an excerpt from my book, “Erased and Unwanted,” (available on Amazon.)THE RECOGNITIONThe long road backHe is in recovery mode. He lives alone, mostly. He may have his grandson and a roommate (who is straight).He wants to address the previous titled for the last six chapters. As a reminder, they are:1. Do not feel bad2. Replace the loss3. Grieve alone4. Just give it time5. Be strong for others6. Keep Busy.Each of these titles is from a book called “The Grief Recovery Handbook.” (James, 2009) They have given him the focus to write his life.For him to heal, he wants to share these lost feelings. Being erased and unwanted takes a lot of work and energy. He is tired of being invisible. The way to recover is to write.“Do not Feel Bad, Why the FUCK NOT!!!”Dammit, his life was robbed. It was his life no one gave a fuck about. They preached, “Children were seen and not heard. Guess what? HE IS NO FUCKING CHILD NOW!!!How does he feel about the beatings which murdered him inside?The bitch is dead. She has been since 1993. He has difficulty understanding if she did not want him then why the fuck did she adopt him in the first place? Why did she not split up twins? It happened all the time in the 1950s.Why get a beaten for discovering they were adopted? Why not simply explain it. Instead of telling them their mother did not want them to save them from an orphanage, she took them. Out of the goodness of her heart, she took us.Bullshit!!!She adopted him and his sister because she could not have children. It was the “All-American Dream” for the two kids, the house, a car, and a dog. The perfect family.She did not want two children, she wanted one. Since twins were born, to an arranged adoption, she was obligated to take both.He does not know how his sister felt, not that it mattered, he knew how he felt. It hurt like hell.Everything he did was wrong. He was punished. His mother insisted they learn piano. He loved the piano, and composed interesting pieces. He loved to hear the music. His mother did not appreciate it. For every off note, while practicing his lessons, he would receive the belt across his lower back and butt.He grew to hate playing and stopped practicing. He remembers the notes and can play a little to this day, even though his heart is not in it. His music teacher discovered he could sing. If he was away from the piano, he could not hit a note. Let him put his hands on the instrument, every note on key.His music teacher realized he had a hearing problem. He was singing by vibration. She wanted to encourage him to learn to sing without the piano. His mother would not hear of it. All the lessons stopped.He would sit down at the piano, when his mother was gone, and compose music. He would sing gospel music, as those were the music books in the house.His grandmother would visit, she played piano by ear. She never had a lesson in her life. She would play, he would put his hands on the piano case and sing every word to whatever it was she was playing. His grandmother would tell him she loved his singing. He received nothing from his parents. He stopped singing, except in the car when he got older.The years would pass. The move to another state. He would know how he felt about other guys. His cousin was the first to recognize it. Was it consensual, molesting or incest?Aside from his cousin fucking him, there was nothing else between them.He felt nothing leaving the town he grew up in. He had no friends. He was bully bait. He hoped he would not be bully bait at the new school too.For two years, he was protected from the bullies for a price. There were twenty boys who protected him from the bullies. No one touched him even away from school. The payment for the protection? Sex.A ginger boy was added for blow-jobs. His role was for both ends.No one suspected or anticipated for them to become best friends and lovers.The novelty of the sex was wearing off. The boys still protected them. It became sporadic, then stopped.He did not feel bad about it. He fell in love with his best friend. His best friend fell in love with him too.His boyfriend spent many night and weekends with him, while his parents worked overtime. Their parents never suspected what was going on between them.One night, he rolled over in bed. His beautiful ginger boy’s face, his best friend, was inches away from his. He touched his face. He smiled. He kissed him on the lips. He woke up and asked if he kissed him. He said yes. Did he ask why? Because he loved him.The kissing continued until he moved away. They hugged a lot as well. When they had sex, which was rare, they made love to each other.When they said goodbye, it hurt like hell. His mother told him, “Do not feel bad,” he will get a new friend. No, he would not. Not like him. No one could replace his beautiful ginger guy.His mother discovered he was gay, she beat him without mercy. She was determined to drive his ginger love from him. With every impact of that belt, he died inside. One thing did not die. His love for the ginger boy.He buried it. Here it would stay for forty-five years. He met and married his wife. His monster of a mother would die from colon cancer. He was numb inside.He put on an academy award-winning performance of the “dutiful” son grieving at the loss of his monster, his mother (sorry). The tears he shed were not for her death. They were not for her relief from the pain of cancer. They were from not having to endure her torment, as he had for the thirty-nine years. Twenty of them to his marriage.His tears were for relief. He could breathe. The relief was short-lived. The old bitch had to strike back at him again. This time in a fucking letter written before she died. His dad found the sealed envelope addressed to his wife. He put the address on it and sent it to her. Not knowing what was inside.She tried everything to destroy his life and marriage. Every attempt did not work. Her last resort, to destroy him after she was dead.He no longer felt bad. A secret he buried long ago. He thought it would stay until he died. No, she had to exhume it, even beyond the grave. Now it was fresh again.His wife knew his secret. He was gay. In the years they had been married, he took off his shirt in low light or in the dark. He never took off his shirt in bright sunlight.His wife knew his back was sensitive. She never understood why until that day. She saw his back in the light he refused to show before. Scars faded yet still visible. Deep scars, once raised, lay flat and pale white on his skin.He flinched when she touched them. The sensitivity is still intense and painful. A light touch felt like razor blades cutting his skin. Fingernails like a “cat-of-nine-tails” across his skin.This is a pain. A level from zero to a ten is normal. This exceeds it.He convinced himself, “Do not feel bad,” she could have killed him. She felt justified. Being gay was a curse, a black spot, an embarrassment, worthy of death. Except, he did not die.His wife saw it all. She heard the pain in his voice as he told her what he endured. He loved her more than anything. It stung when she said, “Do not feel bad,” you do not have to worry about it anymore.With his wife’s death, people at church, friends, and family said, “Do not feel bad,” she is out of pain now. You have your grandson to raise.“Do not feel bad?” How was he supposed to feel? Glad, and thankful she was no longer in pain?He did feel bad. He thought of suicide again. His life was empty. No one listened to his pain. The minister of his church should have listened. Instead, he gave the platitudes everyone says.He still feels the pain.He came out of the closet. He made her that promise. They discussed what would come to pass.His son went ape-shit angry. They rarely speak.Friends deserted him.He promised to find the boy he left behind years ago. It took a year to complete. He loved never stopped loving him. He waited for him no matter how long it took. His body would not wait. He died two years before his wife died. He can never “I love you,” again. He shouts it to the universe instead.His boyfriend is buried next to his parents in the cemetery four blocks from where he fell in love with him.It hurts like hell. Those he loved dearly, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, boyfriend, and wife have departed this existence and he lives on.Death sucks.It leaves him erased and unwanted.“Replace the loss – With What?”His mother said as they pulled away leaving his boyfriend behind, “You will make new friends.” No, he would not. He was going back to the school he hated. Back to the same old bullies. Back to the same shit as before.No one would replace the boy he loved. The day came when his mother discovered the two of them had been lovers and were gay. He lost himself.“Replace the loss.” How does he replace himself? He learns to become someone else. He looked the same. He did not act the same. He is different. People notice he avoided physical or verbal contact.He disappeared into his own world. He lives in a world of erased and unwanted.People said, “You are still young, you will find love again.” Not like what he had with her for forty years. She was the woman he would love and marry. No one can replace the love they had.He admitted he was gay.The persecution was gone. They deserted him. Disowned him. His church excommunicated him and deemed him an apostate. He would burn in hell-fire for breaking with the church.He refused to live his life as a sanctimonious, self-righteous, bigoted, homophobic asshole. He was a closeted gay man, portraying himself as a straight. He made friends and those he could communicate with.He is putting his losses where they belonged. In the same closet where his real self was hiding.For the first time, he cries. Years of being told, “A man is not supposed to cry,” he cries. He cries alone. No one hears him when the pain gets intense. No one cares. Why should they? He is erased and unwanted.“Be strong for others – Who the fuck is to be strong for him?”What about someone for him to lean on?What about someone being there when he needs to cry?What about someone being there when he feels alone?What about no one being there for him?“Be strong for others.” That works both ways. There is one thing about that statement. He thought about it before. It is called time.No one takes the time for anyone. Why should he?He has been the strong one. Family and friends have complimented him for being the one they could depend upon. He has been the rock and shoulder for them.Where were his rock and shoulder? No one was there for him.It was after he came out he watched an episode of a talent show from Britain. The episode was from the same year his wife died.This adorable young man was the last to audition. He chose to do a cover song from the British singer, Robyn. It launched his career as a singer. The song, “Dancing on My Own.” It spoke how he felt inside.His debut album was about his own coming to terms with being gay. His name, Calum Scott. The songs touch his heart. They speak of the pain he carries inside.Calum has a song about having one friend who knew how he felt. His friend could see how bad he was screaming inside. His friend never gave up on him.He never had that.Calum’s friend was his rock and shoulder. They were strong for him.He had always been that for others. The time came for the tables to turn. Those he had been a rock and shoulder for had turned to sand and washed away with the tide.The jagged rocks at the bottom of the cliff would tear him apart as he felt inside.He fell in love with Calums’ voice and music. It does not help he is damn cute. His words touch him the most.Calum wrote a song, not on the debut album. It was released as a single. It was about coming out to his mother, then his friends, and lastly his father. Many friends deserted him. He knew that feeling. Friends he shared with his late wife, turned out to be her friends, not his.Calum wrote in his song, “I trusted in my friends, then all my world came crashing down. I wished I never said a thing because to them, I’m a stranger now.”Like Calum’s words, he never should have said anything to them. Yet, he is glad he did. He found out the truth.Where Calum came out to his parents and they accepted him for who he was and loved him “No Matter What.” (Scott, 2018)This song is painful to him. It has touched feelings deep inside him. His old boyfriend's parents and family never rejected him when he came out to them. They loved him. They knew about how much they loved each other. Their love was accepted. His uncle said it hurt to say his nephew had died. He never stopped loving him.He feels the belt came across his skin, he died inside. Every cut, scratches, welts, and gouge sealed him deep inside.He was never loved by his parents, his captors, and his torturer. He was never wanted to begin with.He learned to be strong. To hide the fear and pain. He became the rock and shoulder for everyone. Inside he was erased and unwanted.“Just Give It Time – To hurt for a lifetime”Time is all he has. Time to bury his hurt. Time to bury the abuse. Time creating an existence that did not exist.He remembers his Mormon days, where he can become a god, liken unto God of his own world.He never allowed himself to be his real self. His world had become an illusion. A straight illusion. A good Mormon illusion. A good Christian illusion. A good father illusion (although he tried to be a good father.) He was a good husband to his wife. She knew he was not who the world saw.His world was a lie. His world was make-believe. Why should it not be? Who he had been was erased and unwanted. He did not want to die, yet it was painful to live.He gave it time. The beatings would stop. The last time his mother hit him with a belt buckle in the back. He caught the belt and yanked it away from her. His father tried to intervene and found his knee in his nuts. The belt was thrown, breaking an expensive, cut-glass antique bowl on the table. He told her, she would never touch him again.She continued her torture in words. She spread lies about him to family and the community. When he worked in a salon, she made sure he had few customers. No one wanted him to work on them.She tortured him when she died on his son’s birthday. Seven years later, she hurt him again.Her physical torture damaged the nerves in his back. He lives with pain every day. Time does not heal all wounds. When someone touches his back he pulls away and asks not to be touched.“Give it time” to get over his boyfriend. How do you get over someone who looked past the scars and saw him? His ginger boy had his own “scars.” His face was covered in acne. He was ridiculed for a skin condition.His ginger boy also never went without a shirt. They were both fair-skinned. His ginger boy was Irish. Being ginger, he burned in the sun. His arms were heavily freckled. His ancestry had Irish blood, and sunburned easily, too.He never went without a shirt because he freckled easily. The freckles covered his shoulders, back, and upper chest. He called himself the “freckled freak.”He did not think he was a freckled freak. He was the most beautiful guy he had ever met. He saw the beauty in his face, his crooked smile, the mischief in his pale blue eyes. He knew his heart and his soul.It is this bond that linked their souls and hearts forever.He never stopped loving him.Time never changes how he feels. Years would pass and his ginger boy was always in the back of his mind. After years and a forty-year marriage, he became a widower. He went to find his ginger boy.He found an uncle, who remembered him. His uncle said his nephew came out gay after high school. He never dated. It was forbidden back then. His nephew told him, he would never date anyone. His heart belonged to one guy. No matter how long time would pass, he would wait for him.His nephew’s health deteriorated as he got older, his love never did. He asked where he was.His ginger boy is buried next to his parents in a cemetery four blocks from he had lived.His love for his ginger boy has never died.“Give it time,” he is a widower. His wife of forty-years died about thirty-six days after she turned fifty-nine. His life came to a standstill. It was a year later when he found out his ginger boy had died. His ginger boy died two-years before his wife.He is giving it time. Time does not heal. The pain becomes bearable.“Give it time,” your children will come around. It has been years since his wife died. His children have disowned him. He is denied the right to see his grandchildren.“Give it time,” you will find love again. He seriously doubts that. He is erased and unwanted again.“Keep Busy – Easy during the day, not at night.”Keeping busy is all he has done in his life. Everything to not face his pain. To not face his loss. To not face himself.Keeping busy meant working. Raising his family. Devoting time to his wife. When he started college it was to keep busy. He kept busy taking care of everyone, except himself.Busy. Busy. Busy.Keeping busy he did not have time to think about his abuse in his childhood.Keeping busy he did not have to remember the ginger boy he loved.Keeping busy he did not have to deal with hiding he was gay.Keeping busy he did not have to deal with his monster of a mother dying of cancer.Keeping busy he did not think about when his wife was diagnosed with diabetes. The same disease that would take her away from him forty years into their marriage.Keeping busy stops him from thinking about how much his children truly hated him for being who he was hiding.Keeping busy drives his writing.Keeping busy he does not feel.Keeping busy he forgets himself.He gained weight and never took care of himself.He is now taking care of himself. After years of neglect, it is not easy to get it back. He is still alone.Keeping busy to not feel erased and unwanted.I know this mentions a lot of me burying I was gay, yet I may have been and I was totally devoted to my wife. I buried myself, for her. I could not change who I was inside, yet I loved her with every part of my being.If you are going to be there for your friend, or relative, let them know it is okay to feel hurt, empty, and alone. Hell, I still do. If you can recall someone you lost, share that memory with them. It may be a beloved pet or a place you loved growing up. Moving away, or the death of a pet there is still grief of something lost.A loss is a loss. It may sound petty over a place, a pet, a favorite toy, moving away. Grief and loss come with a change in what we always knew, now it has to change.I got married at 20. I never got the chance to have a single life. For 40-years, marriage was my life. No matter where we lived, it was my life. Because of how I grew up, I never felt like home anywhere. It was where we lived. The day my wife died, that suddenly changed. I was single and I could admit I was gay. My wife knew I was going to come out, and she gave me her blessing.It was more than my wife dying. It was being married that died. It was trying to figure out where my grandson/son was going to live. I have my wife’s ashes, but where we lived I really hated. We moved from Utah to Nevada. My grandson/son is deaf and has Asperger’s. There are no schools for the deaf (or blind) in Nevada. He and I moved to San Bernardino, CA.When we moved into our own apartment, it felt like we had come home. Interesting though, I grew up in Missouri, but I was born in Bakersfield, CA. My grandson/son was born in Needles, CA (in the same county as San Bernardino.) We moved back to our birth-state. We came home.All the things I mentioned, we will all go through those multiple times. Some will not hurt as bad, others will hurt like hell. The best thing to do? Listen, no platitudes, just listen.My wife is always with me, in my heart, my mind, and her ashes on the shelf in the china hutch. Support them as they make their transition into a different life. The past can never be changed. The future does not exist. Help them to live now. It is not meant to replace the loss. Time does make it more tolerable, yet it never goes away. Recognize it. If you get angry because they died, GET ANGRY. If you want to cry, CRY. You are entitled to your feelings.I don’t know what else to say. I hope what I have said, helps. I hope the excerpt is beneficial in understanding how you can be there for your friend or loved one. I didn’t have this. I had to find it all out on my own. It is why my book was titled, “Erased and Unwanted.”