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Tragically Beautiful, Essays of Love, Loss and Hope
Tragically Beautiful, Essays of Love, Loss and Hope
Tragically Beautiful, Essays of Love, Loss and Hope
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Tragically Beautiful, Essays of Love, Loss and Hope

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A thought provoking look into the unpredictable nature of life. In a series of essays, Bullard insightfully chronicles the sudden tragic loss of her spouse and her heart wrenching journey with grief. She offers a poignant perspective into what is often experienced, but seldom discussed.

While the story is centered around the events of her 50th year, Beth offers an initial glimpse into the past, creating a foundation for the tales that follow. Once there, she invites you to accompany her as she navigates the unimaginable and begins to redefine her future.

Beth’s writing is clever, and relatable. Her personality and innate style are evident from the first page to the last. She crafts an emotional roller coaster for the mind and the heart. Offering moments to think, and opportunities to feel. The humor and wit she employs are a welcome balance to the natural discomfort of her experiences. Ultimately the book is a celebration of life and of hope. The simple gifts each day offers if one merely takes the time to look.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherBeth Bullard
Release dateNov 20, 2020
ISBN9781005423223
Tragically Beautiful, Essays of Love, Loss and Hope
Author

Beth Bullard

Beth Bullard is an author, photographer, and speaker. Her books are said to be thought-provoking glances into the unpredictable nature of life. Her witty and relatable writing style makes one feel as if they’re visiting a longtime friend. Beth’s essays demonstrate an appreciation for the simple gifts life offers when one takes the time to look.Beth dedicated thirty years to her fatefully chosen healthcare profession, Occupational Therapy. She is a seasoned clinician, educator, healthcare leader, and executive. In 2018, she decided to step away from healthcare to explore her creative side and rediscover the hope and beauty of living. She has become an author, an award-winning photographer, a budding interior designer, and an outstanding personal shopper for her family and friends.Beth lives on an acreage property in Northern Colorado with her two children and their menagerie of animals.

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    Tragically Beautiful, Essays of Love, Loss and Hope - Beth Bullard

    Tragically Beautiful

    Essays of Love, Loss and Hope

    Copyright 2020 Beth Bullard

    Published by Beth Bullard at Smashwords

    Smashwords Edition License Notes

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    Table of Contents

    Acknowledgements

    Foreword

    Yelapa

    The Story of Us

    The Farm

    Barn Cats

    July 31st, 2015

    A Knock at the Door

    The Funeral

    The Grocery Store

    Paisley

    Awkward Moments

    A New Normal

    The Rock Crumbles

    Homecoming

    Steps Forward

    The Trio

    Our Anniversary

    Letting Go

    An Intimate Goodbye

    The Girl Garage

    Cancún

    Acknowledgements

    Jackson and Kate, thank you for putting up with me. For making your own dinner and mine more nights than I care to admit. For understanding and bearing with me when I said I was listening but truly wasn’t. For trusting and believing in me even though you really thought I was nuts.

    Kari, Kathleen and Nora, thank you for providing break times. Kari, you got me to the gym on a regular basis which is no small feat. Kathleen, I went from having a horse take me on a ride to truly riding one because of you. Nora, you took me on regular walks and just listened. I’m blessed to have you all in my life.

    Aleta, you are truly the fastest reader in the west and an amazing unofficial editor. Thank you for always being there.

    David, thank you for believing in me even when I didn’t. For sharing my story with others and providing great material for my next book.

    Kristen and Renée, my touchstones. Whether near or far your spirits gave me the strength to see it through.

    And finally, Greg. I’m thankful to have had you in my life. We spent over two decades together. I’m proud of the family and home we created. I know you will be waiting for me when it’s my turn to rest, but until then watch me soar!

    Foreword

    Plain as day.

    That’s how I remember it, in Marty’s basement, the instant Greg first caught sight of my girl, Bethy.

    It was plain as day.

    Witnessing that, never, not in my life, definitely not in that moment decades ago, did I think there would be a time when I would be driving a car, and in that car would be his wife and his children, and I would relate this story to his kids . . .

    And I would be doing this because he was gone.

    But here it is.

    That story.

    I knew it the second I saw him set eyes on her.

    It was over.

    I’m a romance novelist. I write love stories for a living.

    But I’m not being dramatic when I say Greg Bullard fell in love with Beth Burleigh the instant, he saw her.

    And nothing was going to stop him from having her.

    I know.

    I witnessed it.

    From start . . .

    To finish.

    Beth . . .

    Now my Bethy is another story. She doesn’t dive headlong into

    anything. She’s decisive, and adventurous, but she isn’t impetuous.

    Poor Greg.

    He had to hold on and wait her out.

    He did.

    He held on.

    Tight.

    And in that time, and the decades after it, I honest to God don’t know if I’ve ever met a couple who were better suited. More at ease with each other. More accepting of each other just as they were.

    That didn’t mean they didn’t have times, or their own opinions,

    or differences.

    They were just good together.

    Now I’m tasked with the honor of writing the foreword to Beth sharing her journey through the wilderness that was life without her husband, the father of her children, the love of her life.

    Pure Beth, I laughed, reading her words. I didn’t expect that.

    Though, not as much as I cried, but that’s Beth, she doesn’t pull many punches.

    She’s a realist, after all.

    That was also Greg.

    I remember him laughing a lot.

    I remember him being a deeply honest man.

    I remember him having way too much energy and seeming constantly on the go.

    And I remember him loving the dickens out of my girl.

    He was a good man.

    He deserves what Beth is going to share with you in these essays.

    And she deserves the healing I pray to God it will bring, for her, for her and Greg’s two great kids, and for anyone else who has found themselves in this wilderness and needs to understand they are not alone.

    Beth calls the exercise of writing this book doing something for her.

    And yet, sharing this intimacy, an intent of writing it is to help others.

    Again, pure Beth.

    She’s beautiful. She’s smart. She’s self-possessed. She’s generous.

    But there’s a reason Greg took one look at her and was lost.

    And you’re about to find out what that is.

    Kristen Ashley

    Yelapa

    I couldn’t think of a better way to begin 2015. It was going to be a big year. My 50th year to be exact. Why celebrate in just a day or a month when you have a whole year? I said. I’ve never shied away from celebrating the turning of the page. The marker of time that is a birthday.

    Yes, This is going to be the year of me, I declared.

    So much of my life had been spent growing and cultivating others. It was time to focus inward. To reflect on my life thus far and ponder the coming decade that would be my fifties. I could think of no better way to start this magical year of me than a yoga retreat in Mexico with one of my best friends, Renée.

    You can have a lot of friends, but best ones are rare. The type of friends who connect with your soul. They know you better than you know yourself. They truly listen, and in turn will tell you what you need to hear. Their friendship is eternal. Renée is one of those friends. One of my soul sisters.

    We flew into Puerto Vallarta and met up with our retreat group at the airport. From there we loaded into vans and headed to a sleepy hotel in the heart of the city. We were to spend one night in town before heading to the retreat destination the next morning. It was there I met two other girls who would become my tribe for the week, Kimberly, and Annemarie. Kimberly lived in my same town and Annemarie in California. They were both acupuncturists and had been friends and colleagues for a while. Renée and Kimberly knew each other as well. I was the newbie of the foursome, but it didn’t take long before we were a harmonious quartet.

    What do you do with only one night in Puerto Vallarta?

    A few shots of Tequila, Tecates and Salsa dancing. A fitting start to our Mexican adventure. Renée took a quick walk about town gathering intel from the locals. A parasailing guide told her of a restaurant that turns into a dance scene after a certain hour. More of a local’s place. It sounded perfect.

    We slipped into our summer dresses and headed out. Leaving the baggage known as real life and responsibility behind. It was vacation time, and we were four ladies looking to be free.

    The restaurant had begun its Salsa club transformation. We found a table, ordered some drinks, and eyed the dance scene. A young couple dressed in formal yellow and black dance outfits took the floor. They were quite an accomplished pair. He offered a space for her to shine, and in turn she made him look strong. They moved with sensual seamlessness. I wondered if they came here for fun or practice. Like they needed any. Or quite possibly, they were being paid by the restaurant. Working as a ringer couple. A dance pair that made the place look good and inspired the rest of us to give it try.

    It might have been them.

    It might have been the tequila.

    Either way we were on our feet in record time. We danced alone. We danced with each other. We danced with local charmers. We danced the night away.

    Morning came early to those who stayed out late. Luckily, we were on Mexico time. A sleepy casual time zone. No need to hurry or look at a clock. Things will happen when they do. Half the day was spent waiting for our boat ride to Yelapa and the other half traveling and getting settled into our casa for the week.

    Yelapa is a quaint fishing village located in the southernmost cove of the Bay of Banderas. It’s accessible primarily by boat. There are no roads or cars. Only cobblestone and dirt paths. It’s a unique and special area. One of the few places on earth where the original inhabitants still reside on, own, and control their land.

    In 1581 King Philip II of Spain granted the property rights of the territory to the indigenous people. The Mexican Constitution of 1910 recognized the designation. Protecting the land and the rights of the community. The land belongs to the community as a whole. There is no private or outside ownership. The community supports and enjoys the land rather than claiming it.

    It’s said that four families traveled down from the mountain village of Chacala to settle the area. Most residents today have a tie to one of those families. There are a few people from the United States and Canada who have settled in Yelapa full-time. Working alongside the community to enrich the area and for some, becoming part of the collective.

    Our boat was met by one of those now full-time residents, Judith. She had been in Yelapa for quite some time. Joining the community as they worked to strengthen infrastructure, improve healthcare and their tourism industry. She was the catalyst for building the yoga retreat we would enjoy during our stay.

    Judith guided our group from the pier to our accommodations. Giving us a tour of the village highlights and need-to-knows along the way. She talked about the territory and the people. The flow of daily life for this isolated community.

    She pointed out the school, church and the home of a local family who would be hosting us for dinner later in the week. The fresh fruit smoothie stands that open every morning and close when the fruit runs out and of course, the local cantina.

    We traveled through town winding here and there on narrow cobblestone paths. There were a few small family restaurants in the village if we wanted something other than the meals offered by our jungle retreat. We popped into a shop or two along the way, picking up items we desired for our casas. The people were very warm and inviting. Offering smiles and waves as we passed by.

    The town is situated where the mountains meet the sea. More aptly the river. Yelapa is said to be an Indian name meaning Where two rivers meet the Sea.

    Given the geography and terrain, Yelapa was anything but flat. You either walked up or you walked down. During the first few days it became a game to count the stairs we ascended and descended in any given outing. Number of stairs to our Casa on the Beach, one hundred and four or two hundred and eight round trip. Number of stairs to the yoga studio in the jungle, one hundred and twenty after a half mile walk up a cobblestone path. The people of Yelapa had great legs.

    Our casa on the beach was a dream. You entered through a side door into an open-air living area. There were walls on three sides. The fourth was an open vista looking out to the sea. The room was a warm enchanting gathering place. Renée had stayed in the location the previous year. I now knew why she had requested it again.

    We each had our own bedroom tucked behind the great room and between them was a bath. Two wooden shutters hung where a window might be. Allowing privacy if desired but when open, exposing the bedrooms to the beauty of the sea.

    After settling in, we donned our yoga attire and headed to the studio for the opening class. We were a diverse group but unified in our wish for recreation, relaxation, and a bit of fun. Yoga classes were offered twice daily along with meals held at an adjoining jungle retreat. There was a planned hike inland to a waterfall, beach time for everyone, and an afternoon to explore your heart’s desire.

    Our evenings were spent at the local cantina. A small thatched roof patio bar. It was there the village gathered to celebrate the day’s adventures. It was also one of the few places that had a satellite television and a dance floor.

    The great American event known as the Super Bowl happened one of our first evenings in Yelapa. Many of us didn’t know or care who was playing, but it felt like a good reason to head to the cantina. And

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