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.
I don't eat much, and then I drink too much vodka. I throw up.
I am alone in my dead mother's house, in her bed, in her room and this sadness is too extreme.
I am not in my own body. This is NOT my life.
I am disappearing. Just a blob of raw open wounds.
Eleven months. My own insignificance in the face of all things holy.
I think...
how her body grew smaller, until it ceased to exist.
How I was not ready.
I sob.
No, I weep like I haven't allowed myself in these past few months.
I let go, no one to see, no one to hear...my grief takes over. And I fall asleep.
~~~~~~~~~
My heart has turned a corner. It took me eleven months to allow myself to hit bottom.
The Holidays were not terrible, I smiled for Mother's Day and cried a bit on her birthday. But now there is only one more milestone. Her death day.
The month of June is full of weddings, anniversaries, christenings, communions, graduations...all these milestones.
Tomorrow my niece(Beepboop, Bebe, Bee, Beeper, Beatrix) is getting baptized.
We mark time through events.
I am tired. Tired of being tired, of not having any answers in life. Tired of living in a dead woman's house, of pretending that I am fine. Pretending that I am strong and vital, that I don't need people, that I don't need the sacred marking of time.
Dying people are like butterflies. In Auschwitz they found drawings of butterflies all over, but aren't we all just butterflies really? We start as one thing and life, love, grief, what happens next in our cocoon?
And dying people are here to teach us something. They are here to teach us to live.
To live as though we are the dying, because we are.
I am raw. I am vulnerable. I'm accepting this.
My thoughts are on the sacredness of all things, my niece tomorrow will have a Priest baptize her into the Roman Catholic Church. I am her sponsor/godmother, and I take that role to my heart. I pray that I can share with her the beauty that was her Grandmother. I hope that she will know Kate through me. I pray that she will love the sacred things in life. Birth, and death--are the same just reversed.
And Beatrix, I cannot wait to see what a beautiful Butterfly you will be.
Tomorrow, in a holy place, I know my Mom will be there with us.
Songbird was played at my Mom's memorial...it's brought me healing over the past few months.
