Little Darlin' It's Been A Long Cold Lonely Winter

THERE I was starting to write this:

 "The saddest songs, the ones that never should have been written...but were.

There are certain songs in the world that just bring those tears out.  They are the ones that say everything that a person can feel in a moment.

Cat Stevens wrote, Trouble while he was in the hospital near death at nineteen.  Nineteen. So friggin young to write something so moving.

"Let no one look down on your youthfulness, but rather in speech, conduct, love, faith and purity, show yourself an example of those who believe."

 James Taylor was only 21 when he wrote, Fire and Rain.  Now, I can NOT listen to that song without a tear in my eye.  But to think of these people so young, writing such incredibly moving lyrics AND music?"

~~~~~~~

 

...and I'm listening to Pandora(Joni Mitchell station of course) and it starts....

Richie Havens version of Here Comes the Sun.....

SUN SUN SUN Here it comes....

Raise your hand if you're sick of Winter!!!  Don't know 'bout you but this weather's gotta change soon. 

But hey, we've all got the Spring left to kill ourselves!  I read somewhere that more people do it in Spring when things don't get any better.

I'm thinking about those bulbs we plant in September and October, how they take root and by April there they are full of fragrant blooms.  I guess I've been thinking a whole bunch about fertility and gardens and getting the ground ready to plant.  As much as I can't stand the cold, the ice, the shoveling, the breaking and destruction of everything, I know that the ground needs a fallow time.  

Don't kill yourselves kids(unless that's your thing) and I feel that the warm weather is coming soon....then the floods...but then the flowers....and love.

"Leave 'em laughing when you go and if you care don't let them know...don't give yourself away, I've looked at love that way."

What happens when people fall in love?  I'm still wondering about all of it.  But I suppose that's a topic for another day.  

"It's Life's illusions I recall...I really don't know life at all."

Sunday Morning Coming Down

Then I headed down the streets
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing
And it echoed through the canyons
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday

On a Sunday morning sidewalk
Oh, I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That'll make a body feel alone

And there ain't nothin' short of dyin'
Thats half as lonesome as the sound
Of a sleepin' city sidewalk
And Sunday mornin' comin' down

I was listening to some Kris Kristofferson this morning while making coffee.  It's on vinyl that my Grandmother gave to me.  There is something so wistful in a lazy Sunday morning.  

And 2015 is on its' way...coming with a force.  The changes of the past year in my own life have been so vast, so crazy in some ways I almost don't know what to think.  

I used to feel lonesome on Sunday mornings, but not anymore. 

 Warm warm bodies loving touch, fresh coffee, pancakes, purring cats, lazy pants and bathrobe, watching Breaking Bad(yeah I'm a newbie to it), hum of a dishwasher, cuddles, writing,Sunday supper of lentil soup later on.

I'm new to this relationship thing.  I feel like I don't always know what I'm doing, because I've made so many mistakes in the past.  This time is different though.

My heart is so full of so many things these days.  Dreams, hopes, love, joy...

I've learned so much about myself this year though, how I can survive emotional abuse, how I can manage to make ends meet with barely a dime, how to try to be comfortable in my own skin.   There are so many things in my life that haven't made sense in a long time.  

When you're in love with someone wonderful, you just want to tell everybody how great it is all the time.  And for me right now, it's great.  I didn't know what was missing, these emotions. (I'm an emotional creature) and I'm sitting here writing this watching as my cat is cuddled next to Jamie.  Now this cat is a Mama's girl.  She cuddles with me and pretty much only me.  Now she seeks him out to snuggle.  It makes me so happy to know that my precious little kitty-girl loves my man as much as I do.

And for all those out there who've experience bad past relationships, when you finally meet someone who is real and wants to be with you, who makes time for you, doesn't play games, and is man enough to take you on with all your own insecurities...well then you know you've hit the jackpot.  

Age means nothing.  There are 50 year olds less mature than some 24 year olds.  These are the things you learn in life.  

2015 is going to bring some incredible events and I can't wait...because there's just something in a Sunday.

Lists and Letters

Dear Mom, 

Next week is Thanksgiving.  It's the second without you.  I don't want to say that life is easier now, but I've stopped expecting to hear you call my name, or listen for your feet on the steps.

And I've met a wonderful man.    You would really like him.  He is strong, kind and funny. He would make you laugh AND take out the trash(if you asked nicely).  He only wants to make me happy and take care of me, and he knows how to make your grandson laugh.
This man has known loss and knows how to take care of himself and others. 

He's a good cook and loves to hike, just like you did.  He makes me feel safe and protected.  But just like you, he's an awful speller which makes him more endearing to me.   There are so many things I wish I could tell you... twenty times each day I go to call you to tell you of my happiness and it kills me that I can't.  So I write you these letters that other people will read, hoping, praying that somehow you may know all these things.

I saw a woman and her daughter in Target tonight and it made me cry, I missed you so much.  Your touch on my hair, your laugh at silly things, your funny little ways, the way you made so much noise at 7AM when I was sleeping and you'd bang the cupboards shut in the kitchen.  

When I hold my little niece, you're granddaughter I wonder how many times you held me and imagined all the wonderful things that my life would bring.  How I would grow, what my personality would be, who I would love, who would love me, how I would make my mark in the world...and even now all the wonderful things you did for me.  How you cared for me as a little one sick with asthma, or rocked me to sleep, rubbed my back and kissed me goodnight, all the stories read and songs you sang to, when I would reach out and touch your hair...the stories you told of my own life. Those things of legend.  My legend, such a part of you.  People don't understand what it means to lose a mother, a body that is such a part of your own, how I grew inside of you and caused you such pain and pleasure in one.  How it's strange not to be a part of another person the way I was a part of you.
 I dream about you ....I hope you see me and can say, "Look at my daughter, she's full of joy and happiness, I hope all her dreams are coming true."
Love,
Sarah

 ~~~~~~~~

And there are many other things I would love tell her...but cannot write here.

It's late...or early depending.

I haven't written anything on here in a month.  And WHAT a month!
Time changes so much, and it changes it fast.

I'm over here making lists.  Lists that I can't discuss...yet, but they are grand lists, great lists. Lists that I wish I could share.

And this is what I have to say to all those who are scared and afraid of life, it only takes a moment to turn something around.  To meet a new person, to maybe fall in love.

That's right,  sick, sappy, sweet, oh-my-god-you-two-make-me-sick four letter word.

The clarity that comes to a person after meeting someone who makes their world bright and amazing, just throws light on all the past dark relationships making them seem cold and awful.  I've learned so much about myself and my own potential.  How I'm hoping for so much, and he's hoping for so much and we're on the same page and it's just AMAZING.

Yeah, I'm one of those people now.

How am I different? Sheesh, I'm not different I'm just better. 

~~~~~~~~

Heartbreak.  I've had so much loss.  I was due for some good.  For someone who wouldn't emotionally abuse me and make me feel small.  Someone who wouldn't tell me that I needed to get away from my family.  Or tell me that I'm too emotional, or crazy, or morbid or any of those terrible things that were pumped into my head.

My family is my heart.  I watch my little nephew Crosby.  Life for him is new and full of surprises, I just pray that he will know how much I love him always.

And my precious lady Beatrix, who cries when I leave her--she has stolen my heart in so many ways.  She says "happy" now and I think my heart might explode.  I just love that Trixie my sweet little pal.

~~~~~~~~~
My own hopes and dreams ... a someday full of new people, my little people.  And she is always there in my dreams....a beautiful ghost,  haunting me in her ethereal way.  She kisses me while I sleep and once I woke and swore I felt her touch my hair. Maybe we never really die, but explode into  some brilliant gorgeous fireworks dancing in the sky, all full of all life, love and everything in between. 

I was so afraid to meet someone, knowing that she would never be there to tell.  Never know how I feel, but inside I feel that she does know somehow.

And I love her so much

And  I miss her always

And will hold her within me forever.

Homeward Bound

Where is home?

Is it the house next door where I lived for fifteen years?  My first home of memory in West Orange, on that tree lined street, next door to the mayor?  Or is it where I have lived for the past five years.  I often try to think where I "feel" home may be in the future.

In a few months, when the house is finally sold and the rooms are empty, I will walk through and say goodbye. Then I will always wonder where my "home" will be.

 But since Kate died, I'm not sure where I belong once this place is sold.

At times I long for a  husband who would tell say, "Honey, my job is moving and so are we blah blah blah." Then my choice would be made.  I would know my place in this world, country, state, town...universe?  Or I think, hopefully I will get accepted to certain MFA programs which will dictate  where I end up.

There is no comfort in uncertainty.  But, hell I haven't felt comfortable in a few years at least.  It has been dread, then stress after stress.  Uncertainty.  And I suppose that NOTHING is certain.

IN the folly of my youth, I believe that I would meet a guy, get married, pop out some kids, you know do all those things that I was brainwashed into believing gave my life value.  I thought that I would have my own home by now, that home was defined by a person.  You know that thing, Home=where your heart is.

Well, I'm learning where my true home is and it's not quite what I thought.

 I never remember being told about women who chose to have a career.  Those women who were single and supported themselves seemed to be looked at with a wry sense of pity.  This is a religious thing, no doubt.  How many times did I hear preaching about the "place of women" in the world.  I watched my own mother try to be a good wife, homemaker as suited a good woman of the Lord.  I watched it and swore that would NEVER be my life.

My Mom and I used to have long discussions when I was in high school about women choosing to be SAHM versus using their college degree and working.  I think she thought I didn't value what she had done to raise me, this is the same woman who when I said I wanted to go to college and I wanted to have four kids, told me I was too selfish to ever have more than two children.

But, I always felt that being tied down that way was akin to a prison sentence.  I never could do it.  My Mom went back to work when I was in seventh grade.  She later told me that she wished that she had gone back to work earlier.

Now, here's the thing choosing like my Mom did is perfectly fine.  But so is NOT choosing that.  I told a friend the other day, have men ever wondered if they could be a father AND have a career??  I doubt it.  They just assume that they can do both.

The church I was raised in did not allow women to pray in public.  I never understood that.  I consider my religious upbringing to be akin to those raised in a cultish atmosphere.  Rarely was I allowed to have friends outside of the church circle.  My family didn't have friends outside of the church circle, why would I?  And when I say "My family" I really mean my Mom, brother and sister because my Father checked out of that church by the time I was eleven.

He was considered to be a "non-believer" or "apostate" because he chose not to attend those services.  And because of this, I was an outsider.  Oh, there were several outsiders in my group.  I used to strive for a time to be like everyone else, but eventually I accepted my role as a non-functioning part in that strange organism.

 I was instructed in the way of absolutes.  God is real, powerful, omniscient.  The Bible is His Word, the Roman Catholic church is the whore of Babylon, God  chooses who will go to Heaven, woman should remain silent and wear long skirts, children need to be spanked often, in order to build their character...it was a Neo-Puritan upbringing.

There seemed to be a pervading understanding that the things we believed elevated us religiously, we had the truth unlike some of those other less doctrinally sound apostate churches.  I've been bellowed at, cajoled, manipulated and made to feel terrible from preachers of The Word of God.  The odd thing is I'm like a person with Stockholm Syndrome.  I still feel at home amongst some of the those teachings and I believe that there are good people still attending that church.  But would I ever go back?  No.  I don't want to be like Proverbs dog and return to vomit.  So, I choose to follow my own path.  I choose to go with my heart into the uncertainty of belief, the mystery that is faith.

Now, just as there are many oppressive beliefs in this world, there are many empty beliefs.  Where does this uncertainty thing come into play?  I mean have you ever been 100% positive about anything?

I haven't.  So, I have turned this discomfort into a game of sorts.  I keep holding on like a card shark, I'm playing the person not the hand I'm dealt.  I'm psyching out myself to keep going.  And I may never hit a point of peace, or pure bliss.  And I'm OKAY with that.

I long for happiness, but know that happiness like it's friend sadness is only a feeling and a feeling doesn't last. And someday all my words and thoughts will be gone into the ether of the otherworld.

Hah, I'd planned to write about relationships.

Note to everyone...do not give single people advice such as: Why don't you try online dating?  or If you just enjoy life you will meet someone or It always happens when you least expect it.

No, no and NO.    Here comes that uncertainty again.  I don't know if I will always be "single".  Heck most of those married people won't always be married.  Some will be divorced and then single again, then possibly re-married.   I guess I'm just tired of others beliefs internally dictating my life.

 All my past relationships have ended by my own hand, well except maybe one.

That's right. Men, you think that you choose us women?  Nope, here's a clue: we women make the choice every time.  We choose not to be with you or to be with you.  Some women don't realize that they are the choice makers. Some just self-sabotage things,  I have done this.  I have also consciously chosen to end things.

A friend told me once that he knew that his girlfriend was the one, he was ready to buy a ring...then she broke up with him.
And I said,"You knew, but she knew too and it didn't happen, so you can never REALLY know."  How can you NOT have even a little lingering of doubts?

  Because, damnit I have doubts about the things I throw into my grocery cart!!
  Shouldn't you have just a small bit of uncertainty in a relationship?  If not only to keep it moving and thriving?  People think I am a massive failure at romance, hell, I think it too sometimes.

I just cannot seem to find a balance between being too needy and not wanting anyone around me at all.  Try living with THAT schizo type of personality.  The thing is I've dated a few guys who I know I could have taken things to another level, maybe even married them, but each time I knew in the back of my mind that maybe there was something better.

Okay, better isn't the right word.

I knew I wasn't ready to give up my own desires and ambitions, not that I've accomplished what I want yet.

I know when I'm dating someone if it is going to work out long-term or not.  But how much uncertainty is too much?

 I just haven't met someone who can be there and give me space when I need it.  Those things don't seem to be that difficult right?    And the thing is the last guy in my life just had too many red flags for me to compromise, but I tried.  I really tried.

Which brings me to an interesting point, I've been told that I'm afraid of commitment.  This is not true.  I'm just afraid of what comes after that commitment.

And that is why I'm not married, it is my own choosing. I'm no-less suitable than any other woman.  I know so many other women who like me have questioned their own desirability, attractiveness, etc.  But I'm throwing it out there ladies, if you aren't in a relationship or married or dating, guess what...it isn't because men are bad or terrible.  It is because you've chosen not to be. I'm learning to change the way I think.

I used to beat myself up all the time thinking that I had some type of intrinsic flaw keeping me from happiness(because God-forbid that you can be alone and be happy!)  How many lonely coupled folks have I met?  Far too many.

   I don't believe that there is one "soul mate" out there or perfect person or anything like that.

 I still believe in love. I'm just not sure what that means, yet.



SO I continue in my own uncertainty...

Can't Buy Me...Love? Happiness? Long Life?

We aren’t really supposed to talk about money.  It’s not proper or fitting or socially acceptable in some circles.  Folks like to whisper about who’s got it or who doesn’t.  At least that was what I experienced in my “church circle” of friends.  Those who were on the fringes of poverty and required assistance from the church community were viewed as being a bit of an underclass.  Heck, I experienced it firsthand at times when my Mom required financial assistance.  But, I believe that giving to others in need is paramount of this thing we label as “Christianity”. 

The news was reporting the past couple days about a woman who left her baby on a subway.  She was homeless and said that she couldn’t take care of her baby anymore.  I don’t know the whole story, but it got me thinking.  She could be me, she could be any of us. I could be homeless.

From the outside looking in, I appear to have plenty.  In fact someone once told me I was privileged.  Why was I privileged?  Because last year when my Mother died I inherited a house worth over half a million dollars.  

This doesn’t mean that I have that money in hand.  In fact, I have less than when I inherited it last year. The small amount of money she left barely paid for her funeral expenses, some utility bills and I still have outstanding health bills coming in the mail.

After taking care of a terminally ill parent for almost a year(try finding gainful employment while someone is at home dying) I accepted the first job I was offered. 

And most of my paychecks went into maintaining my  inheritance. 

I inherited mortgage payments, a high tax load, expensive oil heating, a dog and various other maintenance costs on a house.  Between these costs, the cost of gas to commute,  I barely had enough to pay any other bills. 

I was also in a deep state of grief, but I was pretending that I was OKAY.

So, I kept going, doing…striving.  I was not going to allow myself to fall into any type of depression or sadness.  I knew that I must be positive.  I focused on other people’s problems or things to distract me from feeling the real sadness.

Then my father got arrested. 

In under eight months time, both of my parents were gone.  And I do not have family who live near me.  I am by myself. 

I nearly lost my mind.  Bad thoughts crept in, thoughts such as, maybe I should just die.  Not that I would kill myself, but maybe just maybe a truck might hit me on the highway.  I only told a couple people about these thoughts.

Each day was a struggle to pull myself out of my bed and drive to a job full of banality and lack of purpose.  I would sit at a desk staring at two screens, barely able to remember my own name at times.  I would start crying and have to spend twenty minutes in a bathroom stall trying to compose myself.  It was as if I had been through an intense battle, come out on the other side feeling relieved, yet sad to have witnessed such horrific suffering.  I guess it was a type of PTSD. 

Counseling may have been an option, checking myself into a facility was another possibility. The only thing that kept me going and gave me purpose was writing.  However, the grief I felt just kept slamming me.  

I hated not being able to function.  Each day dragging myself to an office, stressful commute, I was losing my mind.

 So I quit my job.  I simply couldn’t do it anymore.  And I don’t feel guilty.  I needed time to grieve, to realize that my Mom is gone and there is nothing I can do to change that fact.  All that I can do is my best.  Of course, money is a problem.  However, I always have a way of getting money, making money when I need it.  It's kind of my special power.

Right now,  I have 3.58$ in my bank account.  I’m working a part-time job that has yet to pay me.  I’m still going.  I haven’t “bought” food in three weeks, I’m eating what I’ve got in my cupboards.  I’m not worried about the carbs, the GMO’s, the wheat, the sugar…I’m just worried that I have food to put into my body.  I won’t starve.

I calculate how much gas it will take me to get to work.  That’s what I’ve done this summer.  I haven’t gone to the beach or on a nice vacation or a hike. I am surviving, in a half a million dollar house.

My story is NOT unique.  I have a college degree that took my thirteen years to accomplish.  I am $30K in debt. How many of my peers still live in their parent’s homes because the cost of rent is astronomically?  I bet I could name four people…and they’re married.  My generation was brought up in this bubble of middle classdom, a privilege that not many will have ever again.  We were conditioned to go into debt in order to “get an education”, unless you were lucky enough to have your parents pay for part or the whole.

The sad thing is, I’m not afraid to work hard.  I’m not lazy.  I’ve had jobs since I was twelve years old.  I’ve been self-reliant.  This isn’t a complaint, its more of an understanding that life is hard.   

Six years ago without a college degree, I made almost double what I was making this past year.  Then in 2008 the work just dried up, I got laid off. 

Now, why am I writing about any of this?  I will tell you.  Because I’m tired of pretending.  I want to scream out, LOOK I’m poor and it is OKAY. 

But, what I’m saying is look around.  There are some major problems with our governmental system.  Apparently, jobs are on the rise, but what jobs.  Full-time, with decent living wage, health benefits??? No.  

And I’ve been thinking about all of this for a long while…and it hit me.  Over 600,000 people in our country are homeless . We live in one of the wealthiest countries in the world. Tell me, how the fuck do we have people with nowhere to live???  There is this idea that the homeless are lazy people who don’t want to work.  This is not true.  Many people who are homeless have jobs, but cannot afford a place to live.  How is this possible?  In 2014, in the United States of America, we  fund all kinds of strange things, but we cannot fund a place for those Americans down on their luck.  Ask someone homeless where do they want to be in five years...probably will say ALIVE.

I’ve always hated when people ask you where you’d like to be in five years.  It makes me think of something John Lennon said when he was asked what he wanted to be when he grew up and he said something like, “Can’t I just be happy?”  Which is funny because apparently those who make between $50-75K a year are the happiest so says Forbes.  

While I don’t believe in entitlement of the poor or the wealthy, I do believe that everyone should have a place to sleep, food in their bellies and happiness.  But the religious side in me says, we live in a fallen world.  There is real evil out there, but how many of us support that evil by doing nothing to stop it?  We do nothing to stop it. 

I have only 3.58$ in my bank account.  My statement denotes two things, one that I actually have a bank account, that I have a social security number, that I did have a way to put money in there…so many people on the fringes of society do not even have bank accounts.  They are not eligible for them.   In some ways not having a bank account, or credit cards, or student loans would be an amazing, freeing feeling for me. 

Kate grew up very poor.  She would tell me stories of living in housing projects, roaches, sharing bedrooms with many siblings.  A man she was in love even decided not to marry her because his parents didn’t approve of her background.  (this was a “Christian” man of course.)  She was always afraid of lack, even though she was a hardworker, with a college degree, my Mom never really thought much of herself.  I think it was because she spent so many years ashamed of where she came from.

People are so often ashamed to be poor, but I believe that those who are wealthy and do nothing to help others are the ones who should be ashamed.  And for the record, I put myself in the “wealthy” category.  I wish that I could give more.

But, I guess in some ways I am privileged.  I am privileged enough to care about other people.  While I've been told that I am too nice, I've come to realize that maybe what I've been made to think of as a flaw is actually my secret strength.  Each day is precious, every life is precious, poor or rich, white, black, brown or yellow, we all deserve to treat each other with respect.

Ready, Set...

I know, I write so much sad stuff on here.

I won't apologize.  Here's why:

There is something most of you DON'T know.  

In writing this, I am opening up my shame. 

Almost three months ago, my father was arrested.  I cannot go into details, but he will be spending about two years in prison.   I have not seen or spoken to him since March.  

Eight months.  I lost a mother to cancer and a father to...himself, prison? stupidity?

Yes, I am now an orphan in many ways.  My nearest family is two hours away.

Each year on this day, I think about my life.  I stare at my hands, observe the lines, the creases, wonder where they will be next year.  Isn't life just a bunch of anticipatory acts?

We are always almost tomorrow, next year, I mean I think of the future far too often that sometimes I forget to live in the moment of this very second.

I got paid today.  Money was put into my bank account.  I got paid for something that I wrote. Sure it wasn't a lot of money, but I don't even care.

Before she died, my Mom told me that she was sad because she wouldn't see my success.  She told me that I am meant to write.  She understood it.  Even if I was a puzzle to her at times.

Writers are a strange bunch of people.  When people used to ask me what I want to do with my life, I never have been true to myself. I've always felt that I need to give an answer that makes sense to their query.  Because of my innate people pleasing drive, I haven't let myself be who I am.

Cannot remember the first story that I ever wrote.  But, I do remember being eighteen coming home after work and sitting at the computer in my old family room, the faux wooden panelling, the green of the woods coming through the windows, the way it smelled so balsamic in the afternoon sun.  I wrote my first story.  It was forty pages long.  I lost steam, I didn't know where it was going to go.  But in those moments sitting at that computer(and this is 1998 folks so you can just imagine the size of the computer.) I was so happy in the process of writing.  My mind was in another place.  I began to see the people I was writing about as real people with motivations beyond my own imagining.

I don't know what defines good stories vs. literature anymore.  I just know that when I read something and feel something, that's a good story.


Recurring dreams of giving birth happen to me all the time, I see my babies in my sleep.  These are not real babies, I know that now.  They are the gift of my imagination.  I am standing on a precipice waiting to take flight, I've just been too scared until now.

We take our pleasures where we may, I take mine in writing.  I disappear at times into my own mind, worlds I can create.  This year I learned something very important.

When writing I used to worry about what people would think about me through my writing.  Now, I just don't give a crap.  Love it? Fantastic. Hate it?  Brilliant. Think it is disgusting? Now we are getting somewhere.

Hiding isn't for me.  My writing is in a process right now, birthed from sadness and my own hopes.  Besides, even if I never get paid again...I will keep doing it.  Because like Stephen King says, "Why do you assume I have a choice?"

Tomorrow I enter my 35th year on the planet.

Orphan. Paid Author. Aunt.   I became all those in the past year...just can't help but wonder what this year will bring to my plate.

Once A Long Time Ago

One year ago today, I was running around trying to get everything together for a drive out to West Lafayette, Indiana.
How can I explain what has happened in a year?  I thought that maybe I would write about the trip to Indiana, but I am choosing not to dwell on that sadness.

This past weekend, I drove my sister and my nephew Crosby up to Albany to visit my Dad, Erik, Pam and my niece Beatrix.  Both babies are almost seven months old now, I watched them meet each other, now aware of life.  They'd met before but were too little to know it.
My Dad held them, realizing he had two grand-children, and we laughed and watched them sitting next to each other.  Their chubby baby knuckles, big heads and almost toothless grins...I laughed at the simplicity of being a baby.

I tried not to think.  Tried not to think about the person who was not there, could not be there.

I've been told that every great work of literature is about loss or love or both.   I know now that's because everything in life is about loss and or love.  They work in tandem at times, one following the other.  If you put your heart out there, it will eventually experience loss.

The love I feel for my niece and nephew is so great, I never knew I could love two people who are so new, so unknown to me.  Two little souls, who entered my world just as another left.
There is something so tragic in this, I don't quite know how to write or express it at all.  I see people posting things about their Mom's on Facebook, or their grandchildren and it's wonderful.  That love is wonderful, but at times it just reminds me of my own loss...

I think about Crosby and Beatrix, how they will never know this person who brought me  and their parents into this world.  How she will never tell them funny stories about their Mom and Dad as small children.  And I wonder, will they miss someone they've never met?

Maybe I love them more because she is gone. And I wish that I could just wrap them up and keep them in my pocket forever.

I don't want this to be sad, that's not where I am at right now.  There are just little fragments of sadness illuminating my days, because I'm starting to feel better.  Starting to accept things.

Friends, most of you who are my age, you've yet to experience so great a loss.  Some of you have, but someday you will.  Remember that there is no "right" way to grieve, we each have our own way to learn to live without someone.

Maybe that's not right, I am not learning to live without her, maybe I'm just still learning to live.


It's almost Spring again, I'm longing for the warmth and the flowers.  Maybe a soft rainfall, that first smell of Spring...because it's all about rebirth, a respite from this cold.

Hope.  Hope that each day the sun will come up again, that sorrow lessens over time, that there is love to be had in this world again.

The Ghost of Christmas

I am sitting on my sofa in my living room, a cat to my shoulder, a dog beside me listening to Strange Overtones, drinking a mug o'coffee, thinking about the Norwegian Meatballs I'm getting ready to make.

Darla right now

I'm all alone right now, and I am not sad.  In fact, I'm enjoying my solitude on this Christmas morning.

I wake up every morning a new person and by night I am a different person than I was when I awoke.


And Lo! It's Christmas...again!  I'm so fucking introspective these days(and I have taken to using four letter words like they are going out of style) I cannot help but wonder at life.  My life, how it isn't good but it isn't bad either.
How in a few short months it will change yet again.
I have never wanted much in terms of material wealth.  I've only every hoped to enjoy life, be happy, love my family and help other people. I am so blessed in my life.

Happiness is a chunk of dried pineapple...

Bea and Crosby someday

Look! all the lonely people, the suffering, the unloved...they are what this Christmas shit is truly about.

Presents, things, stuff, all of that is just pointless...fun, but pointless.

Christmas=Christ Mass.  Jesus Christ who was born and came here to die for the lonely, suffering and unloved. To give them hope of an eternal life not full of the sadness of this world...something to look forward too.

So this is not where I wanted to go with this whole post!  But hey sometimes you have to fall down the rabbit hole, no??

Kate always made Julekake, krim kake  and many other cookies.  I haven't done any baking this season, which is not usual for me.

My Grandma has this trivet on her hutch, two little 'Wegian kids with
their julekake.  I imagine this will be Bea and Crosby someday.

Yesterday, I got to witness four generations meeting for the first time.  

Granddad, my Dad, my brother, and my little niece Beatrix.

I loved hearing my Granddad tell her how gorgeous she looked, all dressed up.  He has Alzheimer's and won't remember meeting her, or the fact that he even has a Great-Granddaughter...but I will remember.

These mornings the past week, I wake up and Beatrix is beside me in bed, sometimes snoring, sleeping peacefully dreaming of a full life ahead of her.  I'm moved to tears at times. As the bed we're in was my Mother's.  My Mother--a grandmother who never had the chance to meet my two newest best loves of my life.

I look at these two new people and know how much they are loved, and pray that they will never know intense sorrow.  Know that if I could protect them from all evil and sadness I would.

So Merry Christmas my loves!!

May all your wishes and dreams come true!

Ch--ch-ch-CHANGE

I type into Google “2013 year of change.”

I return such entries as:

2013: A year of Change for you?

If you experienced dramatic success this year tell us…

2013 Is Year Zeroe for Climate Change

The victories of 2012 demand we double down in the fight against global warming.

2013 Was the Year of Women at the Box Office

Amy Chan: 2013 A Year to Change Your Karma

 I clicked on the last one and read “Be Open. Judgment can blind you from seeing the greatest beauty people.” And “Say yes to adventure.”

In a few weeks, I will wave goodbye to the most difficult year of my life.

I’ve been reading Catching Fire, the second book in the Hunger Games trilogy.  I’d read the first book and it got me thinking about some of the themes in the books, the theme of the quell and the reaping.

This past for me has been a deep reaping of change.  I am comforted to know that I am not the only one looking forward to 2014.  2013— the year of the snake, how apt that we shed the old skin and put on something new.

I’ve been thinking of how so many others I know have been experiencing great changes this past year, “I don’t know a soul who’s not been battered, I don’t have a friend who feels at ease…”  these words speak to me of the intensity that 2013 has brought for those I love. 

These difficult times we’ve been through and as they continue…I thought that maybe I would catalog them, but then I realized I don’t want to do that. 

I want to focus on the miracles of 2013.

I hold on to this belief that life will get better.  Many have lost parents, jobs, children; losses small and large, several friends have gone through divorces, grandparents have passed away, a friend recently released from incarceration, another with a very ill infant, all with struggles so real so deep.

In each one I see strength. The amazing human ability to perservere, to keep striving for something better, this hope we hold in our hearts is worth more cataloging than all the sorrows combined.

How in moments over the past few months, I will spontaneously break out in tears and spend twenty minutes or more in the bathroom at work.  Waiting until my sobs subside, or I stand at the sink washing a dish, tears drop down out of nowhere onto my hands.  I can now welcome these moments embrace them, and accept the fact I am more vulnerable now than I have ever been in my entire life. I know that I am not alone.

We’ve got this great ability to shoulder loss, to reach out and love each other.  

Because love is the only way to get through any real great loss in life. 

I think of my pets. And perhaps we could say that they don’t really love, but I don’t believe that.  Animals have a way of communicating on a primal level, they do not judge.  They are open to the beauty in all people.  I think that is the “inner beauty” not some outer thing that is going to crumble and fade.  I need to remind myself of this when I get so caught up on the outward nature of others.

Some are like me, they struggle with the details in search of a larger purpose in life, the ability to serve others (or at least make a difference in another’s life.) And if you’re me, the struggle to nurture my self without being completely self-absorbed or selfish.

I always have hated the question,”Where do you see yourself in five years.” Because I always wanted to say, “Well, I just want to see myself enjoying life.”  But that is the wrong answer because I got fired after giving that answer to someone.

Everyone has been telling me not to take on too much, to allow myself to grieve.  I am impatient.  That I have to get used to a “new normal”.

Join a gym?

Give to charity?

Have a baby?

Get married?

 I  wasn’t “normal” before taking care of Kate and watching her die, why should I be any more normal now?

 So I’ve given myself six self-absorbing months to search my own depths and see what lies within there.

More changes…

I’ve started acupuncture

Spin class for my rage of emotions

Meditations with Deepak Chopra

EFT(emotional freedom technique) with my essential oils

“I’m in the here and now and I’m meditating but still I’m suffering.  But that’s my problem.” –Van Morrison, Enlightenment.

I tell myself forgive, nuture your spirit, embrace the changes.

It is alright to suffer…because it is human and real and true.

Many is the time I’ve been mistaken and many times confused

yes and I’ve often felt forsaken and certainly misused

but I’m alright, I’m alright, I’m just weary to my bones

still you don’t expect to be bright and bon vivant so far away from home

so far away from home

and I don’t know a soul who’s not been battered

I don’t have a friend who feels at ease

I don’t know a dream that’s not been shattered or driven to its’ knees

but it’s alright it’s alright for we’ve lived so well so long

still when I think of the road were traveling on

I wonder whats gone wrong

I cant help but wonder whats gone wrong

and I dreamed I was dying

I dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedly

and looking back down at me smiled reassuredly

and I dreamed I was flying

and high up above my eyes could clearly see

the statue of liberty sailing away to sea

and I dreamed I was flying

Oh we come on the ship they call the Mayflower

we come on the ship that sailed the moon

we come in the ages most uncertain hours and sing an American tune

And its’ alright it’s alright it’s alright

you can be forever blessed

still tomorrow’s gonna be another working day and I’m trying to get some rest

that’s all I’m trying to get some rest.