I'll be pulling away from my parents' driveway later this morning. It has been a full week of activity, many, many laughs and some tears. It was a good week for me to come up. I get the feeling my parents sense my strength now, they seem to rely on it a little more, leaning instead of holding me up. That's what love can do.
I have two songs in my head, vying for attention. The first is What Love Can Do and the second is Blood Brothers. In fact, there are two lines of each song that play back to back in the little spinny thing inside my brain.
"Each one fighting for the other... we said until we died, we'd always be blood brothers," against, "Let me show you what love can do."
There is no doubt that my entire thought process centers around Jeff's death, the current state of circumstances regarding his children and my role in that. The answer is love. Finding it - ain't so easy all the time, my friends. But beneath the anger, the frustration, the fears and the hopes for his young children, it sits. And it is huge. Digging through the other stuff: that's the fight.
I don't know if I'm making sense, but in my tiny brain, I think the answer lies somewhere in seeing the big picture and moving beyond the emotional hurt and into what really matters here. Fighting the good fight for the greater cause.
This message makes sense to only a few of my readers, I am quite certain.
I am destined to make my sister a Springsteen fan. Perhaps after she reads the lyrics to the following song, she'll see my point because I believe it has a message we all need to hear.
There's a pillar in the temple
where I carved your name
There's a soul sitting sad and blue
Now the remedies you've taken
are all in vain
Let me show you what love can do
Let me show you what love can do
Darling I can't stop the rain
Or turn your black sky blue
Well let me show you what love can do
Let me show you what love can do
Well now our truth lay shattered,
we stood at world's end
There's a dead sun rose in view
As if any of this matters, a kiss my friend
Let me show you what love can do
Let me show you what love can do
Darling we can't stop this train
When it comes crashing through
But let me show you what love can do
Let me show you what love can do
On the bench you lie all is nails and rust
And the love you've given's turned ashes and dust
When the hope you've gathered's drifted to the wind
It's you and I now, friend (you and I now, friend)
You and I now, friend
Here our memory lay corrupted and our city lay dry
Let me make this vow to you
Here where it's blood for blood and an eye for an eye
Let me show you what love can do
Let me show you what love can do
Here we bear the mark of Cain
But let the light shine through
Let me show you what love can do
Let me show you what love can do
Let me show you what love can do
Let me show you what love can do
Friday, August 14, 2009
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Good to be Home
I have a few random thoughts running around my head this morning. Several of them have surfaced from the past few days of visiting and observing family, working from my parents’ kitchen table and watching my children thrive with the rest of my family members.
1. First and foremost, it is nice to wake up before the children and have the coffee already brewed, as opposed to the previous four days and starting the coffee myself. The coffee maker at Mom and Dad’s house is quite ancient and the wait for a freshly brewed cup of coffee is approximately 45 minutes. Note to self: spend the $20 and get them a new coffee maker. The only thing stopping me from doing that is hearing how “lousy” the coffee maker is – “why all the buttons?” “Bah, I don’t need a timer.” “Why would you spend your money on that, this one is perfectly fine.” “This coffee’s lousy.” I’ll hear how thoughtful I was in buying it in about six months when they start missing me, and bragging to others about how nice it was for me to buy one for them. On second thought, I might just let one of my siblings be the good guy and I’ll slip them the money and the idea for a new coffee pot.
2. Watching a four and a half year old imitating Daffy Duck is rather humorous. The other day I asked Tony if he wanted a drink and his answer (in Daffy Duck’s voice) was: “No more for me thanks, I’m driving.” He’s got it down. Love that boy!
3. My stance with the NRA has always been negative, but as I watched the news today I thought about people’s rights to have guns. It’s fine for the hunters, the normal people – they can have all the guns they want. But when you see the inner-city shootings that happen at 2am every night, the right to bear these arms is rather questionable. But then I think, if these people are going to shoot each other, let them go right ahead. But then I think that maybe I’m being a little judgmental by one, referring to them as “these people” and two… I suppose one is enough. In any case, I’m tired and driving home a political point, especially with regard to the whole NRA debacle, seems to be a waste of my time. And my time is important.
4. I watched parts of my wedding video yesterday, mainly to catch a glimpse of Jeff’s little speech at the start of the reception. As some of you may recall, he introduced a slide show of me by stating how all my siblings influenced me in one way or another.
Corinne: taught me how to smoke and break curfew and live life to the funnest.
John: taught me strength and the ability to work through problems
Cliff: taught me that reading and writing really is a good thing
Jim: taught me the greatest lesson of all – that maybe the family needs a lawyer
Jeff: taught me that a brother and sister really can be best friends.
He choked up in the video. I sobbed as I watched it eight years later.
My mom watched the credits roll: Met: April 19, 1998 / Engaged December 15, 1999 / Married September 23, 2000. Her one liner: “Where are they going to fit the divorce date?” Funny woman, she is.
5. My dad doesn’t smile much in the morning unless he’s already pooped and had a cup of coffee.
6. The safest I feel – ever – is when I am laughing with my sister, and my kids are chomping on popsicles beside us and I know I’ll see the rest of the family at some point in the three hour period.
7. When I woke up this morning the feeling that “something big was gone” had positioned itself in my chest, and that coming home is real hard when there is such a huge void in the family. I miss my brother, and his entire family, and it sucks sometimes.
8. John is rather funny and quick-witted, and when he and Dana play off each other, the laughter is fast and bubbly.
9. It has been 68 degrees, rainy and humid since I got here – and all I want is an hour of sunshine in Jim’s pool. Where the heck is he?
10. I cannot keep my promise to my neighbor that I won’t be sad when I get back to Maryland.
1. First and foremost, it is nice to wake up before the children and have the coffee already brewed, as opposed to the previous four days and starting the coffee myself. The coffee maker at Mom and Dad’s house is quite ancient and the wait for a freshly brewed cup of coffee is approximately 45 minutes. Note to self: spend the $20 and get them a new coffee maker. The only thing stopping me from doing that is hearing how “lousy” the coffee maker is – “why all the buttons?” “Bah, I don’t need a timer.” “Why would you spend your money on that, this one is perfectly fine.” “This coffee’s lousy.” I’ll hear how thoughtful I was in buying it in about six months when they start missing me, and bragging to others about how nice it was for me to buy one for them. On second thought, I might just let one of my siblings be the good guy and I’ll slip them the money and the idea for a new coffee pot.
2. Watching a four and a half year old imitating Daffy Duck is rather humorous. The other day I asked Tony if he wanted a drink and his answer (in Daffy Duck’s voice) was: “No more for me thanks, I’m driving.” He’s got it down. Love that boy!
3. My stance with the NRA has always been negative, but as I watched the news today I thought about people’s rights to have guns. It’s fine for the hunters, the normal people – they can have all the guns they want. But when you see the inner-city shootings that happen at 2am every night, the right to bear these arms is rather questionable. But then I think, if these people are going to shoot each other, let them go right ahead. But then I think that maybe I’m being a little judgmental by one, referring to them as “these people” and two… I suppose one is enough. In any case, I’m tired and driving home a political point, especially with regard to the whole NRA debacle, seems to be a waste of my time. And my time is important.
4. I watched parts of my wedding video yesterday, mainly to catch a glimpse of Jeff’s little speech at the start of the reception. As some of you may recall, he introduced a slide show of me by stating how all my siblings influenced me in one way or another.
Corinne: taught me how to smoke and break curfew and live life to the funnest.
John: taught me strength and the ability to work through problems
Cliff: taught me that reading and writing really is a good thing
Jim: taught me the greatest lesson of all – that maybe the family needs a lawyer
Jeff: taught me that a brother and sister really can be best friends.
He choked up in the video. I sobbed as I watched it eight years later.
My mom watched the credits roll: Met: April 19, 1998 / Engaged December 15, 1999 / Married September 23, 2000. Her one liner: “Where are they going to fit the divorce date?” Funny woman, she is.
5. My dad doesn’t smile much in the morning unless he’s already pooped and had a cup of coffee.
6. The safest I feel – ever – is when I am laughing with my sister, and my kids are chomping on popsicles beside us and I know I’ll see the rest of the family at some point in the three hour period.
7. When I woke up this morning the feeling that “something big was gone” had positioned itself in my chest, and that coming home is real hard when there is such a huge void in the family. I miss my brother, and his entire family, and it sucks sometimes.
8. John is rather funny and quick-witted, and when he and Dana play off each other, the laughter is fast and bubbly.
9. It has been 68 degrees, rainy and humid since I got here – and all I want is an hour of sunshine in Jim’s pool. Where the heck is he?
10. I cannot keep my promise to my neighbor that I won’t be sad when I get back to Maryland.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
The Sky
I find myself looking up to the sky as of late: the beauty of the sun rising through the trees, the heavy, thick clouds of the humid afternoon which threaten a downpour but rarely do, the pink layers of the sunset in the distant sky. I smile because it consoles me.
I have an incredible picture of the sunrise over the Atlantic Ocean that I took some years ago while vacationing with the entire family. The sun was big and full and round, and so was my family. I remember sipping coffee on the back deck at 5:30 while three other families slept soundly, and glancing up to see my best friend's husband standing behind me with a cup of coffee in his hands, watching it rise just as intently. We didn't say much at all, and the only sound was the click of our cameras. I wonder if he remembers that morning.
I've looked at that picture on several occasions throughout the past four years, focusing on the truth of a sunrise... another day that begins the same but differently, a new chance to make a difference, another day to perceive heartbreak, to conceive heartache, to feel, to believe, to by joyous, to be astounded or confounded. My eyes, when they've been on the horizon over the past four years, have always seen this picture.
Two days ago, I enlarged it and it sits in a beautiful wooden frame, broadly across the wall of my newly painted breezeway. When I leave for work, it is the last thing I see and when I arrive home, it is the first.
Give love. Show love. Be love. This horizon is my newest mantra, and believe me, it is not always easy.
When the one word question: why? comes to me, I look up. When the lump of sorrow in my throat threatens release, I look up. When tears fall, when my chin quivers, I look up. And I try to always believe.
Tonight my heart has sunk below the horizon. It wasn't anything anyone said or did, it is just the way the breeze moved through the trees, the way the humidity felt on my upper lip, the sound of a piano solo playing through my truck speakers, the echo of a laughter I once heard, the picture of a gravestone that no sister should ever have to see or share with her parents.
Yet tomorrow... tomorrow... tomorrow the sun will rise again, and so will I.
And next week when I visit my family and stand beside the new grass at a new gravesite, and feel the breeze pass through me as I pray for a lost soul, I shall take a deep breath, I shall allow my tears to fall to the ground and I shall force my eyes to look up once again.
I have an incredible picture of the sunrise over the Atlantic Ocean that I took some years ago while vacationing with the entire family. The sun was big and full and round, and so was my family. I remember sipping coffee on the back deck at 5:30 while three other families slept soundly, and glancing up to see my best friend's husband standing behind me with a cup of coffee in his hands, watching it rise just as intently. We didn't say much at all, and the only sound was the click of our cameras. I wonder if he remembers that morning.
I've looked at that picture on several occasions throughout the past four years, focusing on the truth of a sunrise... another day that begins the same but differently, a new chance to make a difference, another day to perceive heartbreak, to conceive heartache, to feel, to believe, to by joyous, to be astounded or confounded. My eyes, when they've been on the horizon over the past four years, have always seen this picture.
Two days ago, I enlarged it and it sits in a beautiful wooden frame, broadly across the wall of my newly painted breezeway. When I leave for work, it is the last thing I see and when I arrive home, it is the first.
Give love. Show love. Be love. This horizon is my newest mantra, and believe me, it is not always easy.
When the one word question: why? comes to me, I look up. When the lump of sorrow in my throat threatens release, I look up. When tears fall, when my chin quivers, I look up. And I try to always believe.
Tonight my heart has sunk below the horizon. It wasn't anything anyone said or did, it is just the way the breeze moved through the trees, the way the humidity felt on my upper lip, the sound of a piano solo playing through my truck speakers, the echo of a laughter I once heard, the picture of a gravestone that no sister should ever have to see or share with her parents.
Yet tomorrow... tomorrow... tomorrow the sun will rise again, and so will I.
And next week when I visit my family and stand beside the new grass at a new gravesite, and feel the breeze pass through me as I pray for a lost soul, I shall take a deep breath, I shall allow my tears to fall to the ground and I shall force my eyes to look up once again.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Wedding Dress for Sale
I got the Pennysaver some time ago, and I just spent about five minutes scanning through it. I'm hoping to find someone who wants to give away about $100,000.00 to me. No such luck. But what I did see were a few ads that went like this:
"Wedding dress, size 10 (or 6 or 12), never worn."
It's such a sad little ad, isn't it? Why wasn't it ever worn? Was he a ratscum bastard, or was she? Did they come to a mutual cancellation? Did one of them get hurt?
I started thinking about what I might write about my wedding dress, and for how much I would sell it. I'd probably give it away, I'm thinking. But I would really try to make my ad interesting, or funny, at the very least. Here are a few that I came up with:
1. Wedding Dress, size 6, worn once.
2. Wedding Dress, size 6, worn once, matching shoes and curse.
3. Wedding Dress, size 6, might become a little itchy around the 7th year of marriage.
4. Wedding Dress, size 6, worn once, comes with a lot of baggage. You haul.
5. Beautiful wedding dress, spaghetti straps, full skirt, only worn once and it made for a helluva party. It sits in a box in my basement, along with a tux, also only worn once (or maybe twice):a match made in heaven. (If heaven was a dingy basement that housed shadows in every corner, with black widows waiting to pounce, a nightmarish divorce to follow where the beautiful, blushing bride is worn down to a thread), resulting in the best decision ever made in my life, and also resulting in two beautiful children and an insatiable hunger by the bride to live again, without the groom.
Or maybe I'll just go with the ultimate truth:
6. Wedding Dress, pure white, but shouldn't have been.
Let me know if you're interested. I'll give it to the first taker.
"Wedding dress, size 10 (or 6 or 12), never worn."
It's such a sad little ad, isn't it? Why wasn't it ever worn? Was he a ratscum bastard, or was she? Did they come to a mutual cancellation? Did one of them get hurt?
I started thinking about what I might write about my wedding dress, and for how much I would sell it. I'd probably give it away, I'm thinking. But I would really try to make my ad interesting, or funny, at the very least. Here are a few that I came up with:
1. Wedding Dress, size 6, worn once.
2. Wedding Dress, size 6, worn once, matching shoes and curse.
3. Wedding Dress, size 6, might become a little itchy around the 7th year of marriage.
4. Wedding Dress, size 6, worn once, comes with a lot of baggage. You haul.
5. Beautiful wedding dress, spaghetti straps, full skirt, only worn once and it made for a helluva party. It sits in a box in my basement, along with a tux, also only worn once (or maybe twice):a match made in heaven. (If heaven was a dingy basement that housed shadows in every corner, with black widows waiting to pounce, a nightmarish divorce to follow where the beautiful, blushing bride is worn down to a thread), resulting in the best decision ever made in my life, and also resulting in two beautiful children and an insatiable hunger by the bride to live again, without the groom.
Or maybe I'll just go with the ultimate truth:
6. Wedding Dress, pure white, but shouldn't have been.
Let me know if you're interested. I'll give it to the first taker.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Learn Something New Every Day
I played some darts last night. I didn't have the same enthusiasm as I have had in previous weeks. It might be that my partner quit on me and I had to go solo, searching for a replacement. It might be that I've been in bed by 9pm every night, trying to shake whatever sickness seems intent on rising. It might also be because I spent the entire day in Arlington County, Virginia (just outside of D.C.) for no reason, other than to stroke the ego of one of the employees at the county. I drove two hours in traffic to make it to a casual meeting with this man so that I could get one of my sites completed, called him when I got to the office (as he insisted I do so that he'd be available), waited in the office for an hour, finally spoke with someone, then was told to wait again, and again. Finally, after all the work was completed that needed to be done before meeting with this guy, I called him and said, "Okay, ready for your review and sign-off. Call me when you get this." An hour passed, two hours passed. I got up from my seat every twenty minutes to have him paged again and again. After all, he's the one who set up the meeting. Little did I know, he decided to take a long lunch and was nowhere to be found. After three hours, an expired meter and many exasperated sighs, I picked up my phone and in the most professional way possible, I left a message that said, "Thanks for nothing, dirtbag."
Okay, the dirtbag part was absent of the message, but I let him have it! Here's what I actually said,
"Hi Mr. H, it's Carrie, sitting out on the cold chairs waiting for you. Hope that all is well with you since it is apparent that you have become tied up for some unknown reason. I've been here three hours and unfortunately, I have to leave because my daughter gets off the bus early today and I have a long drive back to MD." Dirtbag.
When he called back as I was snailing along Route 295 through D.C. traffic, he was unapologetic, stating succinctly that "I had meetings. What am I gonna do?" Um, not tell me that you're available; Um, not make an appointment with me and direct me to call you every ten minutes; Um, keep a promise? I ignored him and said, "Look, I just need a quick signature and then I'll be out of your hair. Can we meet on Friday?"
"Yes!" Really?
"Okay, I'll be there at 11:00 am," I answered.
"Can't do 11, I have a meeting until 11:30," he answered.
"Okay, I'll be there at 11:30."
"Make sure it's no later, lunch is at 12," he answered. Dirtbag. It's a precise name, normally reserved for someone else, but in this case, I've decided to share it.
"Hey, why don't you just turn around?. I leave at 3 today, but you can still make it in time." It was 2:35.
"I have to pick up my daughter," I answered curtly.
"Oooh..." he said, but it was a condescending "Oh", you know? Like, "Oh, she's one of those women..." Dirtbag.
It was a wasted trip. Almost.
As I sat there, I struck up a conversation with a kid. I say kid, but he was around 27-28 years old, but looked much younger. It might have been because his expressions were so kind, and his outlook so optimistic. The energy of that area of the country was electric, having just come off the inauguration. We spoke about that. Then, he mentioned his daughters, and I'm sorry, I thought "He must be one of those people who has kids with different woman and moves on." But no, then he mentioned his wife of six years. When he mentioned her, his face lit up. And we talked like we'd known each other forever. We talked about marriage and how tough it gets sometimes, and how it takes work and patience and love. We talked about commitment and when you make a promise, you stick with it. I immediately thought of the dirtbag I was waiting for, and of my dart partner who canceled, and my husband. He asked about my marriage and I said, "It seems that I married someone with an entirely different outlook on what it takes to succeed." He just nodded his head knowingly. By the end of the conversation, we were best friends. I said, "Keep your optimism and wisdom, and continue to be a hopeless romantic." And he said, "You too. It was a pleasure. Your ex must have been a moron."
This boy was an angel, I truly believe that. A few weeks ago, I met an 80 year old man with the exact same outlook, and now I meet this kid. I can only imagine when I meet that beautiful, single, 35-40 year old with the same viewpoint.
So the trip wasn't entirely wasted, I suppose. And I truly feel that there were two lessons for the day: One was to allow me a glimpse into what it takes to be patient; and the other was to re-emphasize the need to keep promises.
At the end of the day, I told the kids I was exhausted and just wanted to go to bed. Paige asked if they would still get a babysitter. I said, "Yes, I have darts tonight." She said, "But if you're tired, why not just stay home?" I answered, "Because I made a commitment to play and I have to be there." (Be impeccable with your word). And she understood.
At darts, a friend of mine said, "I hate looking at you. You're always so happy." (She was a little tipsy and is struggling through her own divorce). I guess I must have looked at her funny because she gave me a wide grin. I was thinking, "She has no idea the kind of day I had. But yeah, in the grand scheme of things, I guess I am happy."
It helps that I was aware of my blessings yesterday, I guess. After all, I met an angel, came home to a warm house, and snuggled with my babies. Oh, I also won at darts with my "stand-in" partner, who happens to be a good friend and neighbor. Not always happy, but hopeful.
Okay, the dirtbag part was absent of the message, but I let him have it! Here's what I actually said,
"Hi Mr. H, it's Carrie, sitting out on the cold chairs waiting for you. Hope that all is well with you since it is apparent that you have become tied up for some unknown reason. I've been here three hours and unfortunately, I have to leave because my daughter gets off the bus early today and I have a long drive back to MD." Dirtbag.
When he called back as I was snailing along Route 295 through D.C. traffic, he was unapologetic, stating succinctly that "I had meetings. What am I gonna do?" Um, not tell me that you're available; Um, not make an appointment with me and direct me to call you every ten minutes; Um, keep a promise? I ignored him and said, "Look, I just need a quick signature and then I'll be out of your hair. Can we meet on Friday?"
"Yes!" Really?
"Okay, I'll be there at 11:00 am," I answered.
"Can't do 11, I have a meeting until 11:30," he answered.
"Okay, I'll be there at 11:30."
"Make sure it's no later, lunch is at 12," he answered. Dirtbag. It's a precise name, normally reserved for someone else, but in this case, I've decided to share it.
"Hey, why don't you just turn around?. I leave at 3 today, but you can still make it in time." It was 2:35.
"I have to pick up my daughter," I answered curtly.
"Oooh..." he said, but it was a condescending "Oh", you know? Like, "Oh, she's one of those women..." Dirtbag.
It was a wasted trip. Almost.
As I sat there, I struck up a conversation with a kid. I say kid, but he was around 27-28 years old, but looked much younger. It might have been because his expressions were so kind, and his outlook so optimistic. The energy of that area of the country was electric, having just come off the inauguration. We spoke about that. Then, he mentioned his daughters, and I'm sorry, I thought "He must be one of those people who has kids with different woman and moves on." But no, then he mentioned his wife of six years. When he mentioned her, his face lit up. And we talked like we'd known each other forever. We talked about marriage and how tough it gets sometimes, and how it takes work and patience and love. We talked about commitment and when you make a promise, you stick with it. I immediately thought of the dirtbag I was waiting for, and of my dart partner who canceled, and my husband. He asked about my marriage and I said, "It seems that I married someone with an entirely different outlook on what it takes to succeed." He just nodded his head knowingly. By the end of the conversation, we were best friends. I said, "Keep your optimism and wisdom, and continue to be a hopeless romantic." And he said, "You too. It was a pleasure. Your ex must have been a moron."
This boy was an angel, I truly believe that. A few weeks ago, I met an 80 year old man with the exact same outlook, and now I meet this kid. I can only imagine when I meet that beautiful, single, 35-40 year old with the same viewpoint.
So the trip wasn't entirely wasted, I suppose. And I truly feel that there were two lessons for the day: One was to allow me a glimpse into what it takes to be patient; and the other was to re-emphasize the need to keep promises.
At the end of the day, I told the kids I was exhausted and just wanted to go to bed. Paige asked if they would still get a babysitter. I said, "Yes, I have darts tonight." She said, "But if you're tired, why not just stay home?" I answered, "Because I made a commitment to play and I have to be there." (Be impeccable with your word). And she understood.
At darts, a friend of mine said, "I hate looking at you. You're always so happy." (She was a little tipsy and is struggling through her own divorce). I guess I must have looked at her funny because she gave me a wide grin. I was thinking, "She has no idea the kind of day I had. But yeah, in the grand scheme of things, I guess I am happy."
It helps that I was aware of my blessings yesterday, I guess. After all, I met an angel, came home to a warm house, and snuggled with my babies. Oh, I also won at darts with my "stand-in" partner, who happens to be a good friend and neighbor. Not always happy, but hopeful.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
A Disappearing Hairline
I had the good fortune of looking through a few months worth of pictures tonight. They were all “after” pictures (after Jeff died), but all in all, they were pretty good ones. I’ve learned that I am starting to look like Jeff a lot. He was a brilliantly funny brother, but as a woman, not so attractive…
And I have a couple of pictures on my camera where I am like, “Oh God, I look like Jeff!” I was wearing my hair back in a ponytail, the lighting was right, my facial expression was on and whammo – I look like Jeff! Ugh. I am 37 and I look like an aging, 38 year old man!
What I also noticed as I went through the pictures, were the changes in the faces of my family members. I have a few pictures of Cliff, Jim, Chuck, Corinne, Dana and myself. There is a spark missing from all of us. There is grief, spelled out on our faces – no doubt about it. We are grieving.
Of course, the span of pictures cover the last six months. If it’s not grief on our faces, it is worry over Jeff. It is hard to believe that January was the month of his stroke. And man, the cd “Working on a Dream” kills me! Every single time I hear a song from it, my heart plummets. But maybe that is the way it is supposed to be.
Who am I kidding? Every time I hear any song from any Springsteen album, my heart plummets! Springsteen’s voice, as familiar as it is, sends a dagger to my heart. Damn Bruce!
I know my blog is missing a lot of creativity these days. I just can’t. I can’t get it to where it is supposed to be. There is too much tenderness, too many cliffs that I am on the edge of, too many abysses I could sink into if I let go too much. I am afraid to let go. I am afraid that if I do, I shall never find my way to the surface again.
I want to. I need to. Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah….
See what I mean?
And I have a couple of pictures on my camera where I am like, “Oh God, I look like Jeff!” I was wearing my hair back in a ponytail, the lighting was right, my facial expression was on and whammo – I look like Jeff! Ugh. I am 37 and I look like an aging, 38 year old man!
What I also noticed as I went through the pictures, were the changes in the faces of my family members. I have a few pictures of Cliff, Jim, Chuck, Corinne, Dana and myself. There is a spark missing from all of us. There is grief, spelled out on our faces – no doubt about it. We are grieving.
Of course, the span of pictures cover the last six months. If it’s not grief on our faces, it is worry over Jeff. It is hard to believe that January was the month of his stroke. And man, the cd “Working on a Dream” kills me! Every single time I hear a song from it, my heart plummets. But maybe that is the way it is supposed to be.
Who am I kidding? Every time I hear any song from any Springsteen album, my heart plummets! Springsteen’s voice, as familiar as it is, sends a dagger to my heart. Damn Bruce!
I know my blog is missing a lot of creativity these days. I just can’t. I can’t get it to where it is supposed to be. There is too much tenderness, too many cliffs that I am on the edge of, too many abysses I could sink into if I let go too much. I am afraid to let go. I am afraid that if I do, I shall never find my way to the surface again.
I want to. I need to. Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah….
See what I mean?
Friday, July 10, 2009
Take Her to the Floor, Waiting for a Moment When the World Feels Right
It wasn't my soul I was searching today. After all this time, after all these trials, I am pretty sure what is in my soul. I know what needs to be done, how it needs to be done and pretty much what to expect out of this life. There was no searching involved in any manner. Yet, I sat on the beach today and watched Paige and Tony play. I laughed when they got splattered into the wet sand by a big wave, I gave them the thumbs up in response to their searching eyes. I listened to my i-pod, closed my eyes once in a while to really feel the sun on my face, and without thinking, I felt the fleeting moment when all the world feels right. It passed by in a second, but I felt it.
I cried today too. I cried as I watched my children enjoy their time at the beach - a joyful cry and a sorrowful cry. My, oh my, to think that my mother used to watch me and Jeff play like that! My, oh my, to know that John, Farrah and Rocco play like that. I laughed too when I saw Paige dancing the Jig (I taught her in a moment of sheer lack of inhibitions) and Tony stomping up the sand and dancing like the giant from Jack and the Beanstalk.
As I said, there were moments when the world felt right. We got to the beach at around 10:30 am. It was partly cloudly. At around noon, the sky was filled with dark clouds, there was no blue in sight. The kids grew cold. They plopped themselves down on the beach chairs and wrapped themselves in beach towels because the wind and the air was chilly with the sun hiding behind the clouds. They began complaining about the cold, wanting to go back to the hotel and in the indoor swimming pool. I couldn't have that. So, to distract them, I jumped up from the chair and ran to the ocean. They followed, laughing. It was rather chilly! We perservered, and I said, "Come on, let's do the sunshine dance!" We raised our arms in the air, fanned out our hands and said, "Bring on the sun!" We played and became distracted, splashing each other, falling with the huge waves. Ten minutes later, the clouds were gone, and the sky was bright blue.
The clouds, gray and full that had spanned the entire sky, were gone.
We played more and giggled and kissed and hugged and Tony said, "Thank you God!" with a huge smile on his face.
Thank you God is right. A moment when the world felt perfect.
And that is why I know that Jeff died too young. I can't understand predestination, everything happening for a reason, or outside evil forces... I don't know the whole cosmic intricacies of all of it, but what I do know is that Jeff died too young. And there is no consolation that comes with that fact. None.
But the power of my power will keep giving me those perfect moments, I know this. I know this. Because life isn't perfect, it is not meant to be perfect on this earth, but the glimpses of it... perfect.
Consolation?
Nah... still does nothing.
I cried today too. I cried as I watched my children enjoy their time at the beach - a joyful cry and a sorrowful cry. My, oh my, to think that my mother used to watch me and Jeff play like that! My, oh my, to know that John, Farrah and Rocco play like that. I laughed too when I saw Paige dancing the Jig (I taught her in a moment of sheer lack of inhibitions) and Tony stomping up the sand and dancing like the giant from Jack and the Beanstalk.
As I said, there were moments when the world felt right. We got to the beach at around 10:30 am. It was partly cloudly. At around noon, the sky was filled with dark clouds, there was no blue in sight. The kids grew cold. They plopped themselves down on the beach chairs and wrapped themselves in beach towels because the wind and the air was chilly with the sun hiding behind the clouds. They began complaining about the cold, wanting to go back to the hotel and in the indoor swimming pool. I couldn't have that. So, to distract them, I jumped up from the chair and ran to the ocean. They followed, laughing. It was rather chilly! We perservered, and I said, "Come on, let's do the sunshine dance!" We raised our arms in the air, fanned out our hands and said, "Bring on the sun!" We played and became distracted, splashing each other, falling with the huge waves. Ten minutes later, the clouds were gone, and the sky was bright blue.
The clouds, gray and full that had spanned the entire sky, were gone.
We played more and giggled and kissed and hugged and Tony said, "Thank you God!" with a huge smile on his face.
Thank you God is right. A moment when the world felt perfect.
And that is why I know that Jeff died too young. I can't understand predestination, everything happening for a reason, or outside evil forces... I don't know the whole cosmic intricacies of all of it, but what I do know is that Jeff died too young. And there is no consolation that comes with that fact. None.
But the power of my power will keep giving me those perfect moments, I know this. I know this. Because life isn't perfect, it is not meant to be perfect on this earth, but the glimpses of it... perfect.
Consolation?
Nah... still does nothing.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Lt. Owen Paul Meany, Jr.
I am just finishing up reading "A Prayer for Owen Meany" for the fifth or sixth time. I love this book! It's about faith, it's about miracles and it's about the imperfections of every character. We all have them, eh? Imperfections, or at the very least, people in our lives who have the imperfections.
Every time I read it though, I get depressed. Why? I don't know. Maybe it's because it is a genius piece of writing, maybe it is because I don't know any Owen Meany's, but I would love to know an Owen Meany, or maybe it's because I have read it for the last two pregnancies (because I wanted my wombed children to know the ingenuity) and I was hormonal then, so I am hormonal now, or maybe it's because I have PMS. Ah, yes! That might be it! Of course, I've been reading for two weeks now (it's a long book), and my mood has been the same. So no, it's not PMS. I'll just blame it on the "female" thing - doesn't every other guy do that anyway??
Do you know that song "Babe" by Styx? For the first 40 seconds of the song it is an organ-like piano and then "Babe, I'm leavin'..."
So maybe I am showing my age, but damn, it's a sad song. I never got the "I'm leavin' but babe, I love you"... I never got that. Am I a "you" to anyone? You'd like to think it would be your husband, eh?
Whatever.... oooh- ooh-ooh-ooh-babe.
I told my brother Cliff that this might be a funky blog - I think I did, anyway. My last thought was that my kids may never know normalcy of a marriage. They'll see their parents, transparent obviously, but never anything close to normal. That bothers me so badly. Why does that bother me so badly?
And I suppose that there are a lot of marriages out there that are "faking" it. Don't fake it! For God's sake, don't fake it! Tell your wife you love her if you love her; tell your husband you love him if you love him! And if you have to pause and ask whether or not you love your husband or wife, or not, for God's sake, tell them that you love them during that pause! You do. You don't. You know. Don't you?
I feel like Owen Meany! A hero, eh? I think so.
But then again, I've had some Grey Goose...
Every time I read it though, I get depressed. Why? I don't know. Maybe it's because it is a genius piece of writing, maybe it is because I don't know any Owen Meany's, but I would love to know an Owen Meany, or maybe it's because I have read it for the last two pregnancies (because I wanted my wombed children to know the ingenuity) and I was hormonal then, so I am hormonal now, or maybe it's because I have PMS. Ah, yes! That might be it! Of course, I've been reading for two weeks now (it's a long book), and my mood has been the same. So no, it's not PMS. I'll just blame it on the "female" thing - doesn't every other guy do that anyway??
Do you know that song "Babe" by Styx? For the first 40 seconds of the song it is an organ-like piano and then "Babe, I'm leavin'..."
So maybe I am showing my age, but damn, it's a sad song. I never got the "I'm leavin' but babe, I love you"... I never got that. Am I a "you" to anyone? You'd like to think it would be your husband, eh?
Whatever.... oooh- ooh-ooh-ooh-babe.
I told my brother Cliff that this might be a funky blog - I think I did, anyway. My last thought was that my kids may never know normalcy of a marriage. They'll see their parents, transparent obviously, but never anything close to normal. That bothers me so badly. Why does that bother me so badly?
And I suppose that there are a lot of marriages out there that are "faking" it. Don't fake it! For God's sake, don't fake it! Tell your wife you love her if you love her; tell your husband you love him if you love him! And if you have to pause and ask whether or not you love your husband or wife, or not, for God's sake, tell them that you love them during that pause! You do. You don't. You know. Don't you?
I feel like Owen Meany! A hero, eh? I think so.
But then again, I've had some Grey Goose...
Monday, June 22, 2009
39 Years
Happy Birthday brother. We've been celebrating your birthday for all these years, and the date has always been one of my favorites; marking the beginning of summer and laughter. There is a great void this morning - not so much in the mood for celebrating today. But one thing I know: You will be beside me the entire day, and every song I play is for you, every word I speak will be lined with love for you, and every smile I succeed in giving, every gesture of kindness I put forth, every tear I cry will be manifested from the love I have for you. And when the kids blow out the candles on your cake tonight - I'll remind them of how you celebrated living - and I'll wish that for every person who ever knew you.
I miss you Jeff.
I miss you Jeff.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Further Up the Road
In June of 2006, Jeff handed me a burned copy of Springsteen live in Dublin.
"It's awesome," was all he said. I put it in my cd cabinet and never listened to it, until yesterday and all day today.
It's awesome.
I picked the kids up from school early today so that I could spend 4 or 5 hours with them before they went with their daddy for the weekend. They were a little tired, so we cuddled on the sofa and I rubbed Tony's buzz cut, feeling it's softness (like a puppy)for nearly an hour. He loved it, and I fell into a trance as we sat together. Paige had her head on my lap, and I laid a comfortable hand on it, and just felt the closeness, and the love between us.
After the kids left, I fastened the headphones to my ears and jumped on the lawn mower. The songs were incredible. I fell into a rhythm with the mowing, and smelled the fresh cut grass, tasted the saltiness of my lips, and heard each note, every word of every song loud and clear.
The sunset was full tonight, turning the entire sky and horizon a vibrant orange. I saw it through the leafy green trees as I drove familiar roads on an errand.
The ache in my heart is still there. The longing and emptiness, the feeling of complete ordinariness that now exists in my life,the shock of his death sits in stagnant waters while I move through this life. And then, a tidal wave blows through it, and nothing makes sense, very little has meaning in those moments.
But noticing the love of and from my children, the brilliant sky, the Springsteen CD, and the sound of his voice in my ear helps. It helps me realize that this is a mere transition.
Ah, I'll sum it up with Bruce. Thanks Jeff - I loved the CD and I like the words it has given me. Words that put my eyes back on the horizon.
Now I been out in the desert, just doin' my time
Searchin' through the dust, lookin' for a sign
If there's a light up ahead well brother I don't know
But I got this fever burnin' in my soul
So let's take the good times as they go
And I'll meet you further on up the road
One sunny mornin' we'll rise I know
And I'll meet you further on up the road
One sunny mornin' we'll rise I know
And I'll meet you further on up the road.
"It's awesome," was all he said. I put it in my cd cabinet and never listened to it, until yesterday and all day today.
It's awesome.
I picked the kids up from school early today so that I could spend 4 or 5 hours with them before they went with their daddy for the weekend. They were a little tired, so we cuddled on the sofa and I rubbed Tony's buzz cut, feeling it's softness (like a puppy)for nearly an hour. He loved it, and I fell into a trance as we sat together. Paige had her head on my lap, and I laid a comfortable hand on it, and just felt the closeness, and the love between us.
After the kids left, I fastened the headphones to my ears and jumped on the lawn mower. The songs were incredible. I fell into a rhythm with the mowing, and smelled the fresh cut grass, tasted the saltiness of my lips, and heard each note, every word of every song loud and clear.
The sunset was full tonight, turning the entire sky and horizon a vibrant orange. I saw it through the leafy green trees as I drove familiar roads on an errand.
The ache in my heart is still there. The longing and emptiness, the feeling of complete ordinariness that now exists in my life,the shock of his death sits in stagnant waters while I move through this life. And then, a tidal wave blows through it, and nothing makes sense, very little has meaning in those moments.
But noticing the love of and from my children, the brilliant sky, the Springsteen CD, and the sound of his voice in my ear helps. It helps me realize that this is a mere transition.
Ah, I'll sum it up with Bruce. Thanks Jeff - I loved the CD and I like the words it has given me. Words that put my eyes back on the horizon.
Now I been out in the desert, just doin' my time
Searchin' through the dust, lookin' for a sign
If there's a light up ahead well brother I don't know
But I got this fever burnin' in my soul
So let's take the good times as they go
And I'll meet you further on up the road
One sunny mornin' we'll rise I know
And I'll meet you further on up the road
One sunny mornin' we'll rise I know
And I'll meet you further on up the road.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Every Day
It comes to me in moments. The fragility of life and the fullness of life in one smile,(or several smiles), in the old argument between my father and brother over the Yankees management, the poking of an abyss of a belly button and the giggles that follow, ongoing conversations among four and six year olds, the sore legs of a 37 year old woman who played kickball, did somersaults and played dodgeball with a dozen kids in the backyard, a shot of tequila held in the air with the ones I love... the list goes on.
Yesterday was another opportunity to take both the fragility and the fullness into my heart.Every year at the Breast Cancer walk, amidst the balloons, the pink shirts, the cheerleaders and the thousands of people I am awestruck - brought to tears. This year was no different. Yet, it was. It was different because there were more people on our team - tenderhearted, familiar yet unfamiliar, people on our team. My cousins joined us this year and along with their kindness, they brought along their lives, adn I felt the deep need to get to know them again... to get to know their children more, their lives but also knew that I already know so much about them! We are bound by values that our grandparents taught. It is evident on the faces of our children. I didn't get much of a chance to really talk to Jacqui, Kristen, Jamie, Caroline or MaryLouise, but I heard their voices loud and clear.
Oh and my sister's voice! Even when she's not speaking, I am laughing at something she has said. There is a constant overture of quick wit that sustains me. She's simply beautiful.
I have fought a quivering chin, a lump so tender in my throat, and an onslaught of tears in the past two days. How can one look into the eyes of any of the children and not feel that way? We are a family.
In a couple days, I'll go back home and my heart will ache. A few days after that, when all is said and done, and the vehicle that houses my nephews and niece moves south, I will be crying. I will be crying for the fragility and fullness of this life as I think about my parents, my own children, my siblings and my cousins.
Yet this is life, and the sooner I understand that and accept it, the sooner I'll... what?
Not ache?
Find joy?
I suppose those two questions amplify the fragility-fullness juxtaposition. I don't know what I'm saying. I guess it's just that my heart is filled with love... tender, aching, and fragile. I'll try every day to never let it go.
Yesterday was another opportunity to take both the fragility and the fullness into my heart.Every year at the Breast Cancer walk, amidst the balloons, the pink shirts, the cheerleaders and the thousands of people I am awestruck - brought to tears. This year was no different. Yet, it was. It was different because there were more people on our team - tenderhearted, familiar yet unfamiliar, people on our team. My cousins joined us this year and along with their kindness, they brought along their lives, adn I felt the deep need to get to know them again... to get to know their children more, their lives but also knew that I already know so much about them! We are bound by values that our grandparents taught. It is evident on the faces of our children. I didn't get much of a chance to really talk to Jacqui, Kristen, Jamie, Caroline or MaryLouise, but I heard their voices loud and clear.
Oh and my sister's voice! Even when she's not speaking, I am laughing at something she has said. There is a constant overture of quick wit that sustains me. She's simply beautiful.
I have fought a quivering chin, a lump so tender in my throat, and an onslaught of tears in the past two days. How can one look into the eyes of any of the children and not feel that way? We are a family.
In a couple days, I'll go back home and my heart will ache. A few days after that, when all is said and done, and the vehicle that houses my nephews and niece moves south, I will be crying. I will be crying for the fragility and fullness of this life as I think about my parents, my own children, my siblings and my cousins.
Yet this is life, and the sooner I understand that and accept it, the sooner I'll... what?
Not ache?
Find joy?
I suppose those two questions amplify the fragility-fullness juxtaposition. I don't know what I'm saying. I guess it's just that my heart is filled with love... tender, aching, and fragile. I'll try every day to never let it go.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
On the Road Again
It is after 11. I just got home from my best friend's house... picking crabs, drinking beers and laughing with her family. Happy Birthday baby! Tomorrow, I will be leaving for Buffalo with the kids. It is for the Breast Cancer walk and I am excited. It's a phenomenal event, it really is.
Yet...
Yet...
Man, life is tough these days. It's tough. I'm on the brink of the highest faith, unfailing love, one day, and the next? I don't know. I just don't know.
Grief is like a a bandit. It tears away all the happiness (not joy, certainly not joy) you start to feel in one swift moment. Dammit, I miss my brother. Rather, I miss the fullness of him being alive. I didn't talk to him every day, but I talked to someone who had talked to him (my brothers, my parents, my sister). He was there. And now? Crap. He's not here. Maybe in a song. Maybe in a memory... Oh, how I wish to dream about him.
What am I dreaming about lately?
I keep having a recurring dream about my ex. Every night for the past three weeks - every night - I have had a dream that him and I are still married, still raising the kids, doing things around the house, laughing, loving, being married. Every night!
I wake up with a smile on my face, then it falls into despair... and then, after a few moments of recent memories, I'm happy again. "Oh darn, it was just a dream. Oh thank God, it was just a dream!"
Lately, I've had a real urge to figure out the people around me. I've had a real sympathy for those who are dealing with the "whaaaa? how could someone do that?" moments.
Think about it:
- The 88 year old man shooting down people at the holocaust museum.
- The man who told his son that his mother was dead... he took it to the grave and 40 years later, the son finds out the truth; his mother is still alive.
- The man who, instead of divorcing his wife and unborn child, kills his wife and unborn child.
- The He-She who decides to change his-her thingy in an effort to find his-her true identity.
- Or simply, the idiot who smashes into someone's car, laughs and drives off.
What?
I mean, really.
What?
Is it righteous indignation on my part? Am I just wrong? Am I over-reacting?
For the past three weeks, I have been brought to tears by the news stemming from the actions of other people.
Is it the ovarian cysts wreaking havoc on my hormones? PMS?
Why are these things happening?
Why?
Should be a fun drive to Buffalo tomorrow. I need to go pack.
Long drive ahead of me... lots to think about.
Yet...
Yet...
Man, life is tough these days. It's tough. I'm on the brink of the highest faith, unfailing love, one day, and the next? I don't know. I just don't know.
Grief is like a a bandit. It tears away all the happiness (not joy, certainly not joy) you start to feel in one swift moment. Dammit, I miss my brother. Rather, I miss the fullness of him being alive. I didn't talk to him every day, but I talked to someone who had talked to him (my brothers, my parents, my sister). He was there. And now? Crap. He's not here. Maybe in a song. Maybe in a memory... Oh, how I wish to dream about him.
What am I dreaming about lately?
I keep having a recurring dream about my ex. Every night for the past three weeks - every night - I have had a dream that him and I are still married, still raising the kids, doing things around the house, laughing, loving, being married. Every night!
I wake up with a smile on my face, then it falls into despair... and then, after a few moments of recent memories, I'm happy again. "Oh darn, it was just a dream. Oh thank God, it was just a dream!"
Lately, I've had a real urge to figure out the people around me. I've had a real sympathy for those who are dealing with the "whaaaa? how could someone do that?" moments.
Think about it:
- The 88 year old man shooting down people at the holocaust museum.
- The man who told his son that his mother was dead... he took it to the grave and 40 years later, the son finds out the truth; his mother is still alive.
- The man who, instead of divorcing his wife and unborn child, kills his wife and unborn child.
- The He-She who decides to change his-her thingy in an effort to find his-her true identity.
- Or simply, the idiot who smashes into someone's car, laughs and drives off.
What?
I mean, really.
What?
Is it righteous indignation on my part? Am I just wrong? Am I over-reacting?
For the past three weeks, I have been brought to tears by the news stemming from the actions of other people.
Is it the ovarian cysts wreaking havoc on my hormones? PMS?
Why are these things happening?
Why?
Should be a fun drive to Buffalo tomorrow. I need to go pack.
Long drive ahead of me... lots to think about.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
The Devil Sleeps
The devil sleeps soundly while those who fight him lay awake in their beds, struggling for answers, struggling through the frustrations, struggling to fight the good fight. The devil puts things in motion, smiles smugly as he watches it all unfold, and fluffs his pillow for a rest while it all plays out. If he's having a good day, he can get those who act in his favor to believe that they are actually doing it in the name of God. This makes his dreams even more enjoyable.
I am thinking about the man who is all over the news today for killing three people in cold blood - one of which was his brother. The devil slept with a smile while that was unfolding.
Or let's talk about the woman who killed her children in the name of God, having heard his voice asking her to sacrifice them for the better good. The devil had a good time imitating that voice, and he enjoyed a giggle before slipping the comforter up to his chin.
The devil sleeps while some people in the world move forth without understanding the greater good - they move forward in the name of independence for themselves, in the name of money for their future, in the name of everything that has nothing to do with family or love or the golden rule. They move forward, oblivious, and you know what the devil is doing, right? ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
Oh, but he doesn't always sleep. No, he works to get under the skin of those who follow God. He works hard to do that, and he gets frustrated because he is weak and no match for that kind of power. He'll make cars break down, he'll have computers crash, he'll get into the heads of husbands and tie a pork chop around the neck of a lovely lady who isn't the husband's wife and he'll convince the husband that the pork is necessary to his own well-being, he'll get those who are so lost in his maze to convince others to join in, he'll have those people form churches and praise the lord as they move about and finish his work, he'll get under the skin of those who want what is right, of those who live their lives the right way... That's the only time he is awake - when he's working on the people who believe in God the right way, and once he sets into motion the work that he wants to accomplish, he takes a snooze.
Ah hell, who am I kidding?
The devil's an asshole. His power is so miniscule because that's all it equals is fear. Fear. He uses fear to fight against love. What a joke.
I bet he's wide awake now.
I am thinking about the man who is all over the news today for killing three people in cold blood - one of which was his brother. The devil slept with a smile while that was unfolding.
Or let's talk about the woman who killed her children in the name of God, having heard his voice asking her to sacrifice them for the better good. The devil had a good time imitating that voice, and he enjoyed a giggle before slipping the comforter up to his chin.
The devil sleeps while some people in the world move forth without understanding the greater good - they move forward in the name of independence for themselves, in the name of money for their future, in the name of everything that has nothing to do with family or love or the golden rule. They move forward, oblivious, and you know what the devil is doing, right? ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
Oh, but he doesn't always sleep. No, he works to get under the skin of those who follow God. He works hard to do that, and he gets frustrated because he is weak and no match for that kind of power. He'll make cars break down, he'll have computers crash, he'll get into the heads of husbands and tie a pork chop around the neck of a lovely lady who isn't the husband's wife and he'll convince the husband that the pork is necessary to his own well-being, he'll get those who are so lost in his maze to convince others to join in, he'll have those people form churches and praise the lord as they move about and finish his work, he'll get under the skin of those who want what is right, of those who live their lives the right way... That's the only time he is awake - when he's working on the people who believe in God the right way, and once he sets into motion the work that he wants to accomplish, he takes a snooze.
Ah hell, who am I kidding?
The devil's an asshole. His power is so miniscule because that's all it equals is fear. Fear. He uses fear to fight against love. What a joke.
I bet he's wide awake now.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Love Who You Love
Let love give what it gives. Show love, be love, give love.
Memorial Day weekend was all about this and it was one of the best weekends I have had in a long, long while. Who did I spend it with? The majority of it was spent with the kids. We chased dogs around the neighborhood, we picked weeds, went to the plant store and picked out flowers, we dug the holes, planted the flowers, and watered them. Shortly after I swept up the mess and used the leaf blower to clear the sidewalk, we each grabbed a popsicle and sat at the top of the driveway and looked at the new, beautiful front garden. It was a beautiful moment. Just the three of us, proud of our accomplishments.
Tony helped me mow the lawn, gather the branches for the bonfire and shop for the s'mores fixings. Paige set up the lawn chairs around the bonfire pit, figured out a couple games we could play before cooking the s'mores and thought up a couple of ghost stories. At one point, I overheard Tony saying to Paige, "This has been hard work. We're making Mommy proud." And Paige's answer was, "It sure is. Help me get these chairs apart." And Tony said, "Okay Paigey."
The entire weekend was like this. We worked hard together, enjoyed our time, and when I required that they nap or rest, they abided by my wishes. After the nap on Friday afternoon, Paige stretched her arms high into the air and said, "Ah, refreshing!" I laughed and said, "I told you so."
Yesterday was supposed to be our quiet, restful day. When I got invited to a party at a friend's house, I was a bit reluctant to go because I knew the kids had played hard all weekend and I was waiting for the meltdown. I packed them into the truck, figuring I'd leave in an hour or so. At the party, they played together, they played with the other kids, they said please and thank-you, they hugged me, and all I heard was, "You're kids are so well-behaved." Ha! But they were.
It was because of all the love. We were sweating it, talking it, showing it, being it and giving it.
Ah, refreshing!
Memorial Day weekend was all about this and it was one of the best weekends I have had in a long, long while. Who did I spend it with? The majority of it was spent with the kids. We chased dogs around the neighborhood, we picked weeds, went to the plant store and picked out flowers, we dug the holes, planted the flowers, and watered them. Shortly after I swept up the mess and used the leaf blower to clear the sidewalk, we each grabbed a popsicle and sat at the top of the driveway and looked at the new, beautiful front garden. It was a beautiful moment. Just the three of us, proud of our accomplishments.
Tony helped me mow the lawn, gather the branches for the bonfire and shop for the s'mores fixings. Paige set up the lawn chairs around the bonfire pit, figured out a couple games we could play before cooking the s'mores and thought up a couple of ghost stories. At one point, I overheard Tony saying to Paige, "This has been hard work. We're making Mommy proud." And Paige's answer was, "It sure is. Help me get these chairs apart." And Tony said, "Okay Paigey."
The entire weekend was like this. We worked hard together, enjoyed our time, and when I required that they nap or rest, they abided by my wishes. After the nap on Friday afternoon, Paige stretched her arms high into the air and said, "Ah, refreshing!" I laughed and said, "I told you so."
Yesterday was supposed to be our quiet, restful day. When I got invited to a party at a friend's house, I was a bit reluctant to go because I knew the kids had played hard all weekend and I was waiting for the meltdown. I packed them into the truck, figuring I'd leave in an hour or so. At the party, they played together, they played with the other kids, they said please and thank-you, they hugged me, and all I heard was, "You're kids are so well-behaved." Ha! But they were.
It was because of all the love. We were sweating it, talking it, showing it, being it and giving it.
Ah, refreshing!
Accountability
As a mother, I am required to look beyond my own selfish needs and become as selfless as I possibly can. This explains why I was willing to work through my marriage problems with my ex. Simply because I know that we all make mistakes as human beings, and knowing that forgiveness and change forward does wonders. I was really looking beyond my own hurt, and into the future of my children.
I am one of the fortunate ones though. My marriage ended, the family broke apart but in all this time, through my own hurt and pain, I concentrated on the needs of my kids. How easy it would have been for me to pack up my bags and move to a different state - away from the pain, away from the routine and start something brand new. I thought about it. I asked God for guidance. I prayed for guidance. I read books about child-rearing and what was the most important thing for the kids. Stability. I read so many books, talked to so many counselors, priests and friends. In all of this, the only requirement for the healthy child-rearing was show them love and give them stability.
I scraped up money for the plane tickets and went back to Buffalo every chance I got. If they needed love, they got it in bucket-fulls. I am still scraping money and plan on spending every vacation in Buffalo so that my kids can be a huge part of my family. It would have been easier on me if I would have just sold the house in Maryland and moved back to Buffalo. I could have done that easily. In fact, I talked to my ex last week about this and he said, "Thank you for not doing that, Carrie. The kids need their dad." I answered, "Yes, but they also need my family." And he said, "Absolutely, which is why I never fight you on your trips up north." And for that, I thanked him. He's got that figured out, and knows the benefit of a loving family, despite our divorce.
Stability. So, that ruined my whole plan of packing up and leaving town. I am a mother and so, I am required to look beyond my own selfish needs. But then I thought about my kids.
My only role in this life now that I have given birth is to be the damn best mother I can be. That is my role in life. That is what God called me to do. He didn't come to me in a dream, and I didn't hear his voice... I just know on the day that my daughter's head appeared and I heard her first cry, that I had a purpose and that I was accountable for her well-being. And then Tony followed, and I was divided by two, and grew ever so strong.
As anyone who has read my blog for the past two years knows, I am a believer in God. I have so many strong beliefs about God's purpose for me, and when I can say kind words to heal someone's hurt, I try to do that. When I say mean things because of the hurt I feel inside, I always ask for forgiveness. When I think about myself for too long, I've come to this understanding with God that He can put me in my place - which usually means that I stand up too quickly while emptying the dishwasher in my rage and crack my head on the open cabinet door, or I hit my hip on a table as I walk past without thinking. I usually hear something like: "Tone it down a notch, Carrie." I doubt it's God's actual voice, I think that it is probably just my own voice reminding me of what I believe: Do unto others as you'd have done to you. This is my rule for my life! And these are the words of God - my God, my ex's God, my enemy's God, my family's God...
I am accountable to myself and my children to listen to what others have to say. I am required to open my ears and listen. I ask all of you to do the same.
Thanks to a fellow blog writer for posting the following. It came at the perfect time:
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
When did God become an Excuse?
So, When did God become an excuse for doing what you want? Anyone who's worked in ministry or pays attention to news about people and religion know what I mean by this statement. It seems a lot in the past few years that people in religious leadership like to use God as an excuse to do whatever they want. They say things like "We're going to do this b/c we prayed about it," or something like " This s what God wants." These statements have been used to rationalize some of the most horrible things in history. I saw a news article recently talking about a so called "pastor" who thought it was ok for a father to marry his adolescent daughter because it was part of their religion. Holy Crap, what's up with that? How can God be used to say this is ok? Because God's become the excuse. Recently I was fired from a Job where I was excelling at that job. I was fired b/c they "prayed" about it first.
How can we stop this flagrant misuse of a Holy God? It's called accountability. This kind of thing occurs in places where we give one person way to much authority. When did God ever put a single person up on a pedestal? He didn't! The only person He ever gave major authority was Himself in human form, known as Jesus Christ. If the leadership was accountable to people who walk with God daily, then less little problems like this will arise. Where people stop, think, and talk, ideas outside that of God's word start to become evident.
PLEASE for the love of God, stop using God as an excuse. Why do we feel the need to say that God has said something that you know He didn't? I think it's because no one can argue. The people that say these things know that God isn't going to just come down and confront you in public over the stupid thing you just said that He said. It's only an amount of time before you'll have to answer for what you've said. In this life or the next you'll answer for it.
Start actually praying, looking for God's leading, and do that. Regardless of what God's leading is, do that! You've got to be ready to do thing you don't want to if you're going to do God's will. It's not always the easy thing, but it's always the right thing. The right thing also isn't always what we want. Remember that the next time you're going to want to do something just because it's convenient or want to get rid of someone because you're jealous. Remember that it may not be what God wants just because you want it.
What God wants is perfect. Why do we think that just because we want it that God will in turn want it as well? How selfish our sin must be.
Now we must wait for change...God Rocks!! Jtw
I am one of the fortunate ones though. My marriage ended, the family broke apart but in all this time, through my own hurt and pain, I concentrated on the needs of my kids. How easy it would have been for me to pack up my bags and move to a different state - away from the pain, away from the routine and start something brand new. I thought about it. I asked God for guidance. I prayed for guidance. I read books about child-rearing and what was the most important thing for the kids. Stability. I read so many books, talked to so many counselors, priests and friends. In all of this, the only requirement for the healthy child-rearing was show them love and give them stability.
I scraped up money for the plane tickets and went back to Buffalo every chance I got. If they needed love, they got it in bucket-fulls. I am still scraping money and plan on spending every vacation in Buffalo so that my kids can be a huge part of my family. It would have been easier on me if I would have just sold the house in Maryland and moved back to Buffalo. I could have done that easily. In fact, I talked to my ex last week about this and he said, "Thank you for not doing that, Carrie. The kids need their dad." I answered, "Yes, but they also need my family." And he said, "Absolutely, which is why I never fight you on your trips up north." And for that, I thanked him. He's got that figured out, and knows the benefit of a loving family, despite our divorce.
Stability. So, that ruined my whole plan of packing up and leaving town. I am a mother and so, I am required to look beyond my own selfish needs. But then I thought about my kids.
My only role in this life now that I have given birth is to be the damn best mother I can be. That is my role in life. That is what God called me to do. He didn't come to me in a dream, and I didn't hear his voice... I just know on the day that my daughter's head appeared and I heard her first cry, that I had a purpose and that I was accountable for her well-being. And then Tony followed, and I was divided by two, and grew ever so strong.
As anyone who has read my blog for the past two years knows, I am a believer in God. I have so many strong beliefs about God's purpose for me, and when I can say kind words to heal someone's hurt, I try to do that. When I say mean things because of the hurt I feel inside, I always ask for forgiveness. When I think about myself for too long, I've come to this understanding with God that He can put me in my place - which usually means that I stand up too quickly while emptying the dishwasher in my rage and crack my head on the open cabinet door, or I hit my hip on a table as I walk past without thinking. I usually hear something like: "Tone it down a notch, Carrie." I doubt it's God's actual voice, I think that it is probably just my own voice reminding me of what I believe: Do unto others as you'd have done to you. This is my rule for my life! And these are the words of God - my God, my ex's God, my enemy's God, my family's God...
I am accountable to myself and my children to listen to what others have to say. I am required to open my ears and listen. I ask all of you to do the same.
Thanks to a fellow blog writer for posting the following. It came at the perfect time:
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
When did God become an Excuse?
So, When did God become an excuse for doing what you want? Anyone who's worked in ministry or pays attention to news about people and religion know what I mean by this statement. It seems a lot in the past few years that people in religious leadership like to use God as an excuse to do whatever they want. They say things like "We're going to do this b/c we prayed about it," or something like " This s what God wants." These statements have been used to rationalize some of the most horrible things in history. I saw a news article recently talking about a so called "pastor" who thought it was ok for a father to marry his adolescent daughter because it was part of their religion. Holy Crap, what's up with that? How can God be used to say this is ok? Because God's become the excuse. Recently I was fired from a Job where I was excelling at that job. I was fired b/c they "prayed" about it first.
How can we stop this flagrant misuse of a Holy God? It's called accountability. This kind of thing occurs in places where we give one person way to much authority. When did God ever put a single person up on a pedestal? He didn't! The only person He ever gave major authority was Himself in human form, known as Jesus Christ. If the leadership was accountable to people who walk with God daily, then less little problems like this will arise. Where people stop, think, and talk, ideas outside that of God's word start to become evident.
PLEASE for the love of God, stop using God as an excuse. Why do we feel the need to say that God has said something that you know He didn't? I think it's because no one can argue. The people that say these things know that God isn't going to just come down and confront you in public over the stupid thing you just said that He said. It's only an amount of time before you'll have to answer for what you've said. In this life or the next you'll answer for it.
Start actually praying, looking for God's leading, and do that. Regardless of what God's leading is, do that! You've got to be ready to do thing you don't want to if you're going to do God's will. It's not always the easy thing, but it's always the right thing. The right thing also isn't always what we want. Remember that the next time you're going to want to do something just because it's convenient or want to get rid of someone because you're jealous. Remember that it may not be what God wants just because you want it.
What God wants is perfect. Why do we think that just because we want it that God will in turn want it as well? How selfish our sin must be.
Now we must wait for change...God Rocks!! Jtw
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Divorce Just Took Third Place
I dye my gray roots because it makes me feel good.
I go to Springsteen concerts because I love it.
I read books because I enjoy it so much.
I write because it helps me think and makes me feel better.
I go to acupuncture because it keeps me balanced.
I plant my vegetable garden so that I can enjoy the tomato juice running down to my elbows as I take half the sandwich into my mouth in one bite; and because my kids like tomatoes too.
I exercise because I want to feel healthy and be healthy.
But,
I live in Maryland for my kids, weighing the negatives of moving them away from their father and how it will affect them and their future.
I go to work every day, for my kids.
I get up every morning, make breakfast, lunch, dinner and give baths, for my kids.
I read childrens' stories every night to my kids, for my kids.
I sit down and draw, and do play-doh, puzzles and games with my kids, for my kids.
I say prayers every night with my kids, for my kids.
I take my kids to church every Sunday, for my kids.
I talk about my brothers, sister, my ex, my ex in-laws, mother, father, in-laws, cousins, nieces and nephews, telling stories and doling out compliments, for my kids.
I come home from work after working ten hours and put on a pot of sauce, letting my kids put in all the spices, stir the sauce and eat it off the spoon, for my kids.
I speak kindly to others because it's the right thing to do, and to teach my kids.
This is what mothers do. When a mother puts herself before her kids, she isn't being a mother, she is just being a person with kids.
If I wasn't a mother, and since I'm no longer married, I could do whatever I wanted. I could make any decision for the path of my life without a second thought. But I have kids. And so I don't, because they are the most important job in my life. A job I wouldn't trade for the world.
I am sick of trying to define miracles from the shit sandwich on my plate. I am sick of trying to find good in all this jumbled mess. The miracles aren't to be found in the circumstances. The miracles are to be found beyond the circumstances... looking up through the fog of the grief and seeing the beauty of a sunrise. That's the miracle. It doesn't come forth on a plate, it doesn't require the belief that you'll sit on a throne next to Jesus, bejeweled in Glory. It comes from the simple act of loving and kindness and seeing; taking into consideration how all the sacrifices, all the decisions, all the moves one makes in their life will affect the whole chemistry of the universe.
If that means sitting complacent for a while and watching my kids grow up healthy in mind and spirit, well, then I suppose they'll be my sunrise after a long life of pointing out the beauty, despite the fog.
And I'll continue to do this, for my kids.
I go to Springsteen concerts because I love it.
I read books because I enjoy it so much.
I write because it helps me think and makes me feel better.
I go to acupuncture because it keeps me balanced.
I plant my vegetable garden so that I can enjoy the tomato juice running down to my elbows as I take half the sandwich into my mouth in one bite; and because my kids like tomatoes too.
I exercise because I want to feel healthy and be healthy.
But,
I live in Maryland for my kids, weighing the negatives of moving them away from their father and how it will affect them and their future.
I go to work every day, for my kids.
I get up every morning, make breakfast, lunch, dinner and give baths, for my kids.
I read childrens' stories every night to my kids, for my kids.
I sit down and draw, and do play-doh, puzzles and games with my kids, for my kids.
I say prayers every night with my kids, for my kids.
I take my kids to church every Sunday, for my kids.
I talk about my brothers, sister, my ex, my ex in-laws, mother, father, in-laws, cousins, nieces and nephews, telling stories and doling out compliments, for my kids.
I come home from work after working ten hours and put on a pot of sauce, letting my kids put in all the spices, stir the sauce and eat it off the spoon, for my kids.
I speak kindly to others because it's the right thing to do, and to teach my kids.
This is what mothers do. When a mother puts herself before her kids, she isn't being a mother, she is just being a person with kids.
If I wasn't a mother, and since I'm no longer married, I could do whatever I wanted. I could make any decision for the path of my life without a second thought. But I have kids. And so I don't, because they are the most important job in my life. A job I wouldn't trade for the world.
I am sick of trying to define miracles from the shit sandwich on my plate. I am sick of trying to find good in all this jumbled mess. The miracles aren't to be found in the circumstances. The miracles are to be found beyond the circumstances... looking up through the fog of the grief and seeing the beauty of a sunrise. That's the miracle. It doesn't come forth on a plate, it doesn't require the belief that you'll sit on a throne next to Jesus, bejeweled in Glory. It comes from the simple act of loving and kindness and seeing; taking into consideration how all the sacrifices, all the decisions, all the moves one makes in their life will affect the whole chemistry of the universe.
If that means sitting complacent for a while and watching my kids grow up healthy in mind and spirit, well, then I suppose they'll be my sunrise after a long life of pointing out the beauty, despite the fog.
And I'll continue to do this, for my kids.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
On Faith
I am a weak person, I've decided. Not weak in the sense that I know what is essentially right and wrong for my kids, but weak in the sense that I am so very cautious.
Think about the move my ex has made for a second. He was unhappy. He didn't see any chance of the marriage getting better, so he fled. He's gone, and maybe (hopefully, in my self-centered heart, hopefully), he has felt regret. But even so, he has moved on.
Here Carrie is, sitting complacently. I'm still in the same place. Raising the kids, working, cooking, cleaning. Have I been on dates? Very few. Have I given in to the temptation to "make myself available?" - nope. I haven't even been writing that much. I haven't done that because I am so afraid. So weak. Was his move strong? In a sense, yes. He was unhappy so he moved on. I was unhappy and was willing to sit inside of it.
Adventure.
It requires faith. I am too weak to push forward to do what I want to do as an individual. I am not strong enough - yet - to move forward and tow my kids along for the ride. They'd adjust. Hell, they adjusted to the divorce, didn't they?
It has been nearly two years for them since he left. They've adjusted just fine. It is their mother that hasn't.
I got news today of a move made by a lovely person. What did I do? I lashed out. How dare she? How dare she?
Am I right in my opinion?
Hell no! I am weak in my ability to move through transitions, and I am jealous, no, envious, of those who can.
Cheers to the brave ones. I'm not there yet. With a little faith, in myself, I just might be. But not yet.
It's only been two years...
What a joke I've become.
Think about the move my ex has made for a second. He was unhappy. He didn't see any chance of the marriage getting better, so he fled. He's gone, and maybe (hopefully, in my self-centered heart, hopefully), he has felt regret. But even so, he has moved on.
Here Carrie is, sitting complacently. I'm still in the same place. Raising the kids, working, cooking, cleaning. Have I been on dates? Very few. Have I given in to the temptation to "make myself available?" - nope. I haven't even been writing that much. I haven't done that because I am so afraid. So weak. Was his move strong? In a sense, yes. He was unhappy so he moved on. I was unhappy and was willing to sit inside of it.
Adventure.
It requires faith. I am too weak to push forward to do what I want to do as an individual. I am not strong enough - yet - to move forward and tow my kids along for the ride. They'd adjust. Hell, they adjusted to the divorce, didn't they?
It has been nearly two years for them since he left. They've adjusted just fine. It is their mother that hasn't.
I got news today of a move made by a lovely person. What did I do? I lashed out. How dare she? How dare she?
Am I right in my opinion?
Hell no! I am weak in my ability to move through transitions, and I am jealous, no, envious, of those who can.
Cheers to the brave ones. I'm not there yet. With a little faith, in myself, I just might be. But not yet.
It's only been two years...
What a joke I've become.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Who You Gonna Call?
When I'm at my worst - sad, heart-broken, desperate, dismal, hopeless - I sure feel lousy. I feel so lousy that I don't want to lift my head from the pillow. I feel so lousy that nothing seems possible, that giving up seems to be the solution of strength. The clinging, wanting, yearning for meaning is unbelievable.
Thankfully, I haven't felt that way in quite awhile. Don't get me wrong, I feel pangs of it, especially since... especially since... well, you know. But the pangs are usually fleeting, lasting an hour, maybe two hours at most and usually it's not every day.
I ask you, dear readers, to imagine those people who feel that despair every hour of every day. To even think that it might last longer than two days is difficult to imagine.
Where is the faith?
Where is the hope?
Where is the friendship?
Where is the love?
If you know someone that might be feeling this way, pick up the phone and make the call.
That's our duty as fellow human beings.
And please, don't imagine what it's like for too long. Compassion can only bring you to the place of understanding; any further, and you're sunk too.
I don't know why I write this... only to say, there is hope. There is faith. There is friendship. There is love. It's out there. If you're feeling like the person I described in the first paragraph: pick up the phone, make the call. There are people who will listen.
Thankfully, I haven't felt that way in quite awhile. Don't get me wrong, I feel pangs of it, especially since... especially since... well, you know. But the pangs are usually fleeting, lasting an hour, maybe two hours at most and usually it's not every day.
I ask you, dear readers, to imagine those people who feel that despair every hour of every day. To even think that it might last longer than two days is difficult to imagine.
Where is the faith?
Where is the hope?
Where is the friendship?
Where is the love?
If you know someone that might be feeling this way, pick up the phone and make the call.
That's our duty as fellow human beings.
And please, don't imagine what it's like for too long. Compassion can only bring you to the place of understanding; any further, and you're sunk too.
I don't know why I write this... only to say, there is hope. There is faith. There is friendship. There is love. It's out there. If you're feeling like the person I described in the first paragraph: pick up the phone, make the call. There are people who will listen.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
8 Hours Sleeping, 16 Hours Dreaming
I had a rough time waking up today. The kids' voices seemed a little more high-pitched, the pat-a-tat-tatting of Gracie's ears a little louder, and my eyes seemed a little bit heavier. I slept so soundly all night, just enough chill in the air to compel me to roll over again and pull the covers up to my chin. Why was I so tired?
I realized that, for the first time in months, the exhaustion didn't come from dreading the day. It didn't come from that little place of despair inside of me that spoke about the tragedy of the past few months. It didn't come from disliking work, dreading making lunches again. It came from none of that.
I was exhausted this morning because I earned it. I stayed out until 1am on Monday, woke at 6am, worked a full day, and after work, cleared out the weeds in my front garden and trimmed all the plants while entertaining the kids, speaking with the neighbors and throwing a stick to Gracie, Rocky and Murphy (the neighbors' dogs, who adore my house as much as they adore their own). I was physically and mentally worn down, but spiritually peaking.
So when Tony came in this morning, rubbing my back (as I taught them to do upon waking someone) and said, "Why are you sleeping so much?", my reaction was to smile. I smiled because it was the first morning in a long line of mornings that didn't give me the thought that I had to shut out the pain again. The pain is there, it will always be there. But I only have one life to live, and live it I must, and be as grateful for the chill in the air on a Wednesday morning, and be grateful that I have the long weekend (Fri-Mon) to spend outside with the kids, the dogs, the plants, the sunshine and the stereo blasting some great flippin' music. And I hope to wake up exhausted like this all weekend.
I realized that, for the first time in months, the exhaustion didn't come from dreading the day. It didn't come from that little place of despair inside of me that spoke about the tragedy of the past few months. It didn't come from disliking work, dreading making lunches again. It came from none of that.
I was exhausted this morning because I earned it. I stayed out until 1am on Monday, woke at 6am, worked a full day, and after work, cleared out the weeds in my front garden and trimmed all the plants while entertaining the kids, speaking with the neighbors and throwing a stick to Gracie, Rocky and Murphy (the neighbors' dogs, who adore my house as much as they adore their own). I was physically and mentally worn down, but spiritually peaking.
So when Tony came in this morning, rubbing my back (as I taught them to do upon waking someone) and said, "Why are you sleeping so much?", my reaction was to smile. I smiled because it was the first morning in a long line of mornings that didn't give me the thought that I had to shut out the pain again. The pain is there, it will always be there. But I only have one life to live, and live it I must, and be as grateful for the chill in the air on a Wednesday morning, and be grateful that I have the long weekend (Fri-Mon) to spend outside with the kids, the dogs, the plants, the sunshine and the stereo blasting some great flippin' music. And I hope to wake up exhausted like this all weekend.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
I Believe in the Promised Land
My soul has been replenished, nourished, charged up and is running like velvet across my fingertips. I had been waiting on a sunny day, and for three and a half hours, my face was lifted toward the brilliant light.
First, church on Sunday. Second, the gospel according to Bruce. The concert was worth every penny. In fact, I think Bruce might have lost money on the deal because it was simply, phenomenal.
I lived a lifetime in that arena. Any concert that begins with a song containing the words: "I dont give a damn for the same old played out scenes. I don't give a damn for just the in-betweens. Honey I want the heart, I want the soul, I want control right now," is going to be good. He followed it up with "No Surrender" and I thought of the street I grew up on, and my brothers' best friends, especially Pops: "We swore blood brothers against the wind. Now I'm ready to grow young again
and hear your sister's voice calling us home, across the open yards..."
And the songs continued on and on and on and on... this was a concert about hope and faith and love; and of course, rock and roll. Bruce sat on the stage with a nine year old girl and sang "Out in the Street" - a version that the little girl had never heard because she loved the Jonas Brothers version of it. PULEEZE. That little girl has no idea how lucky she is.
But I know how lucky I am. I ended up getting seats with five, Bruce-loving, friends. Someone backed out at the last minute. Fortuitous? Serendipitous? I had just realized Bruce was in town the day before yesterday, decided I was going, and then got the phone call from a long-time friend of mine telling me they had one extra ticket. "Do you want it?" Uh, duh.
The entire concert was an encore. And the encore was a concert. Easily, the best show I've seen by Bruce yet. And here's the song that spoke to me the most, I think. Maybe it was because Bruce sang it with such a passion, speaking to the group as a whole, but to each of us individually too.
Hard Times (Eastmountainsouth, 1850)
Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears
while we all sup sorrow with the poor
there's a song that will linger forever in our ears
oh, hard times come again no more
'tis a song… a sigh of the weary
hard times… hard times come again no more
many days you have lingered around my cabin door
oh… hard times come again no more
while we seek mirth and beauty
and music light and gay
there are frail ones fainting at the door
though their voices are silent
their pleading looks will say
oh, hard times come again no more
'tis a song… a sigh of the weary
hard times... hard times come again no more
many days you have lingered around my cabin door
oh, hard times come again no more
'tis a sigh that is wafted across the troubled wave
'tis a wail that is heard upon the shore
'tis a dirge that is murmured around the lowly grave
oh, hard times come again no more
'tis a song…a sigh of the weary
hard times… hard times come again no more
many days you have lingered around my cabin door
oh, hard times come again no more
oh, hard times come again no more
First, church on Sunday. Second, the gospel according to Bruce. The concert was worth every penny. In fact, I think Bruce might have lost money on the deal because it was simply, phenomenal.
I lived a lifetime in that arena. Any concert that begins with a song containing the words: "I dont give a damn for the same old played out scenes. I don't give a damn for just the in-betweens. Honey I want the heart, I want the soul, I want control right now," is going to be good. He followed it up with "No Surrender" and I thought of the street I grew up on, and my brothers' best friends, especially Pops: "We swore blood brothers against the wind. Now I'm ready to grow young again
and hear your sister's voice calling us home, across the open yards..."
And the songs continued on and on and on and on... this was a concert about hope and faith and love; and of course, rock and roll. Bruce sat on the stage with a nine year old girl and sang "Out in the Street" - a version that the little girl had never heard because she loved the Jonas Brothers version of it. PULEEZE. That little girl has no idea how lucky she is.
But I know how lucky I am. I ended up getting seats with five, Bruce-loving, friends. Someone backed out at the last minute. Fortuitous? Serendipitous? I had just realized Bruce was in town the day before yesterday, decided I was going, and then got the phone call from a long-time friend of mine telling me they had one extra ticket. "Do you want it?" Uh, duh.
The entire concert was an encore. And the encore was a concert. Easily, the best show I've seen by Bruce yet. And here's the song that spoke to me the most, I think. Maybe it was because Bruce sang it with such a passion, speaking to the group as a whole, but to each of us individually too.
Hard Times (Eastmountainsouth, 1850)
Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears
while we all sup sorrow with the poor
there's a song that will linger forever in our ears
oh, hard times come again no more
'tis a song… a sigh of the weary
hard times… hard times come again no more
many days you have lingered around my cabin door
oh… hard times come again no more
while we seek mirth and beauty
and music light and gay
there are frail ones fainting at the door
though their voices are silent
their pleading looks will say
oh, hard times come again no more
'tis a song… a sigh of the weary
hard times... hard times come again no more
many days you have lingered around my cabin door
oh, hard times come again no more
'tis a sigh that is wafted across the troubled wave
'tis a wail that is heard upon the shore
'tis a dirge that is murmured around the lowly grave
oh, hard times come again no more
'tis a song…a sigh of the weary
hard times… hard times come again no more
many days you have lingered around my cabin door
oh, hard times come again no more
oh, hard times come again no more
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Tomorrow?
Tony was my companion at church today. I had planned on attending alone, leaving the kids with my cousin so that I could deal with the message of the Mass and not be overly concerned about the kids picking their butts or staring at the crying babies. So I snuck up to the shower while they were eating breakfast and got ready for church. As I was blow-drying my hair, Tony snuck into the bathroom and asked me what I was doing. When I told him that I was going to church, he said, "I'm going with you!" I told him he didn't have to, that he could stay home and play, but he said, "No Mommy, I'm going. Let's get dressed." So I put him in some "Sunday" clothes and we went to church. On the way through the parking lot, he was jumping like a kangaroo, kicking his feet, shaking his arms. I told him to settle down, that we couldn't play like this in church. He didn't stop. So I did. We stood in the parking lot and I said, "All right buddy, get it all out. Jump up and down, shake those arms, kick those feet..." He did, and after a fit of giggles, I said, "Are you ready to be quiet in church now?" He shrugged and said, "Sure Mommy." And he was awesome!
"Just like riding a bike..." That was the thought that kept going through my head as I listened to the opening song, said my prayers and was seated. Easy enough. I made it through the readings and the gospel. The main theme of all was "Love one another as I have loved you." Simple enough concept. Putting it into practice is nearly impossible, but I understood it.
I thought I'd be thinking about Jeff the entire time, but I wasn't. I thought I'd be sobbing over the loss of him, but I didn't. Instead, my mind was on my divorce and on my ex-husband. Love one another as I have loved you... I thought about how many times I have forgiven him in the past two years, and how, after all this time, I still held onto an inkling of non-forgiveness. I realize that it is because I loved him so truly that I have a tough time not hating him, and thus I've been unable to fully forgive him. It is time.
Springsteen will be in town tomorrow night. The concert is sold out. I don't have a ticket. It is in D.C., in the city, at night. I am going. I will get a good parking space, and I will get a good ticket. I am going against the better judgment of my friends who think I'm insane for even thinking the idea.
My neighbors are having people over today. It is not for a merry celebration. It is because a brother-in-law died unexpectedly.
The brush of the jungle; the thorns at our heels; the grass so thick at our feet; the rolling thunder; the scorching sun; the car accidents, heart attacks, broken hearts, broken spirits, unemployment; the fast-paced move for money; the murders; the theft; the tragedies of loving...
The span of this life is so short. The span of this life is full of opportunities missed. Had I not gone to Mass today, would Jeff's funeral been my last time? If I don't go to see my best friend Bruce, will I have witnessed my last concert some time ago?
Tony broke the microwave dish (the thick, rotating dish that turns in the microwave) today. I heard the crash, and he was standing amidst all the big chunks of glass, crying. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He kept repeating it. I walked into that kitchen and was so angry. First the truck, then my computer, now this? I picked up the glass without a word. I vacuumed up all the little pieces of glass without even looking at Tony, without even acknowledging his tears. When he tried to talk to me, I told him to go play, that I had to go on-line to order a new plate.
What a flippin' hypocrite! He went to church with me today. He knows I heard the message, and what did I do? I ignored him. I ignored the fact that a plate of that size crashing to the floor and breaking into pieces probably scared the crap out of him. I ignored his apologies because I was too caught up in how it affected me.
Love one another as I have loved you... before tucking him into bed I apologized for my actions. He got teary-eyed again and apologized again, and I said, "Tony it was just a stupid plate, don't worry about it." He smiled and said, "Ooooh, you said stupid." Stupid, is right.
Life. So short.
Is getting up and going to work every day really about money? How many people truly love what they do to make ends meet? How long will it be before I scrap my job and take the lower, lower, lower paying job teaching at the college again; downsizing on my house and my lifestyle to do what I love?
Another day like today - facing myself, my true desires, and seeing so much love, knowing of so many tragedies that others are facing - probably not too long. It is about time to live, to remember, without worry, without regret.
Forgive, love, and live. Today.
Because tomorrow never knows.
"Just like riding a bike..." That was the thought that kept going through my head as I listened to the opening song, said my prayers and was seated. Easy enough. I made it through the readings and the gospel. The main theme of all was "Love one another as I have loved you." Simple enough concept. Putting it into practice is nearly impossible, but I understood it.
I thought I'd be thinking about Jeff the entire time, but I wasn't. I thought I'd be sobbing over the loss of him, but I didn't. Instead, my mind was on my divorce and on my ex-husband. Love one another as I have loved you... I thought about how many times I have forgiven him in the past two years, and how, after all this time, I still held onto an inkling of non-forgiveness. I realize that it is because I loved him so truly that I have a tough time not hating him, and thus I've been unable to fully forgive him. It is time.
Springsteen will be in town tomorrow night. The concert is sold out. I don't have a ticket. It is in D.C., in the city, at night. I am going. I will get a good parking space, and I will get a good ticket. I am going against the better judgment of my friends who think I'm insane for even thinking the idea.
My neighbors are having people over today. It is not for a merry celebration. It is because a brother-in-law died unexpectedly.
The brush of the jungle; the thorns at our heels; the grass so thick at our feet; the rolling thunder; the scorching sun; the car accidents, heart attacks, broken hearts, broken spirits, unemployment; the fast-paced move for money; the murders; the theft; the tragedies of loving...
The span of this life is so short. The span of this life is full of opportunities missed. Had I not gone to Mass today, would Jeff's funeral been my last time? If I don't go to see my best friend Bruce, will I have witnessed my last concert some time ago?
Tony broke the microwave dish (the thick, rotating dish that turns in the microwave) today. I heard the crash, and he was standing amidst all the big chunks of glass, crying. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He kept repeating it. I walked into that kitchen and was so angry. First the truck, then my computer, now this? I picked up the glass without a word. I vacuumed up all the little pieces of glass without even looking at Tony, without even acknowledging his tears. When he tried to talk to me, I told him to go play, that I had to go on-line to order a new plate.
What a flippin' hypocrite! He went to church with me today. He knows I heard the message, and what did I do? I ignored him. I ignored the fact that a plate of that size crashing to the floor and breaking into pieces probably scared the crap out of him. I ignored his apologies because I was too caught up in how it affected me.
Love one another as I have loved you... before tucking him into bed I apologized for my actions. He got teary-eyed again and apologized again, and I said, "Tony it was just a stupid plate, don't worry about it." He smiled and said, "Ooooh, you said stupid." Stupid, is right.
Life. So short.
Is getting up and going to work every day really about money? How many people truly love what they do to make ends meet? How long will it be before I scrap my job and take the lower, lower, lower paying job teaching at the college again; downsizing on my house and my lifestyle to do what I love?
Another day like today - facing myself, my true desires, and seeing so much love, knowing of so many tragedies that others are facing - probably not too long. It is about time to live, to remember, without worry, without regret.
Forgive, love, and live. Today.
Because tomorrow never knows.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Magical Moments
Life is not a series of magical moments, as I had once surmised.
On the day I got the call from my sister-in-law Kathy that Jeff had had a stroke, my first instinct was to laugh. Him having a stroke was nonsense. My family was invincible.
I lived a life filled with a series of magical moments. Until then.
Do you know my family?
Amazing. Wait, let me repeat: A-MAZ-ING! We're not perfect. Far from it, in fact. We're not always compassionate, even-keeled, level-headed. Not me. Not my brothers. Not my sister(s). None of us. Now.
Jeff was though, probably the most of all of us. He died. Did you know? And he wasn't a Saint. Far from it, but he was a good guy. Just like the rest of us. We thought with our hearts, not with our wallets. We thought with our humor, not with our intellect. We thought with our kindness, not with our pride.
We learned that from our parents. Magical Moments.
I miss the rest of my family since Jeff died, but also realize we're each, individually, dealing with the loss.
Here goes: I have hardly talked to my sister, my best frined, my go-to girl, the woman I talked to every day, Corinne. We talk for about six seconds once a week now. It's not her fault; it's not my fault. We're just protecting ourselves from the pain, I think.
I haven't talked to my brother John since the funeral. I've talked to my mother only three times.
I can't talk to them because my grief is so HUGE, and their grief is so HUGE that we can't fit together in the same sentence.
And oh, Dear God, how I miss Jeff! I keep wanting to call him to bounce this grief off of him. "Can you believe it? How are you coping? He was so great, such a void... What are we gonna do without him?"
Oh, it's bad.
Then I look at the sky, see his face, hear his voice, see his shrug and find nominal comfort.
It's not a series of magical moments, but there are some. He's helping me, but I need everyone else too.
I suppose some of my grief comes from missing how it used to be with all of us when things were merry and joyful, dysfunctional and whole. My eyes are a bit vacant, open and sad these days. I can't wait until we're all back together again.
50 years or so?
On the day I got the call from my sister-in-law Kathy that Jeff had had a stroke, my first instinct was to laugh. Him having a stroke was nonsense. My family was invincible.
I lived a life filled with a series of magical moments. Until then.
Do you know my family?
Amazing. Wait, let me repeat: A-MAZ-ING! We're not perfect. Far from it, in fact. We're not always compassionate, even-keeled, level-headed. Not me. Not my brothers. Not my sister(s). None of us. Now.
Jeff was though, probably the most of all of us. He died. Did you know? And he wasn't a Saint. Far from it, but he was a good guy. Just like the rest of us. We thought with our hearts, not with our wallets. We thought with our humor, not with our intellect. We thought with our kindness, not with our pride.
We learned that from our parents. Magical Moments.
I miss the rest of my family since Jeff died, but also realize we're each, individually, dealing with the loss.
Here goes: I have hardly talked to my sister, my best frined, my go-to girl, the woman I talked to every day, Corinne. We talk for about six seconds once a week now. It's not her fault; it's not my fault. We're just protecting ourselves from the pain, I think.
I haven't talked to my brother John since the funeral. I've talked to my mother only three times.
I can't talk to them because my grief is so HUGE, and their grief is so HUGE that we can't fit together in the same sentence.
And oh, Dear God, how I miss Jeff! I keep wanting to call him to bounce this grief off of him. "Can you believe it? How are you coping? He was so great, such a void... What are we gonna do without him?"
Oh, it's bad.
Then I look at the sky, see his face, hear his voice, see his shrug and find nominal comfort.
It's not a series of magical moments, but there are some. He's helping me, but I need everyone else too.
I suppose some of my grief comes from missing how it used to be with all of us when things were merry and joyful, dysfunctional and whole. My eyes are a bit vacant, open and sad these days. I can't wait until we're all back together again.
50 years or so?
Thursday, May 14, 2009
I Shall Overcome
I came into this world as a daughter and a baby sister known as Carrie Lynn Fazzolari. Since 1972, I've become much more - a friend, a girlfriend, a former friend, a former girlfriend, a wife, a former wife. But always a daughter and always a baby sister.
I swam in the crystal clear waters of love, marriage and motherhood. I traversed through the blessed and not so blessed rivers of the marriage, and came to trudge through the muddy, muddy waters of divorce.
Life's about changing, nothing ever stays the same.
I took my vehicle to the shop. It should be fixed in a couple weeks.
My computer is finally working again.
As the tooth fairy, I have an on-going pen pal relationship with my daughter. [Questions asked yesterday: Are you a boy or girl? (Girl) What is your name? (Tammy)Questions asked today: Where do you live? Do you have wings? What is your favorite color? I'll answer and sign it "Love, T.F."]
The ovarian cyst is shrinking, even though it feels like I'm in labor 18 hours out of every day. But I know that one day, I'll give birth to it and find a blessing in the fact that it has subsided.
I met my deadlines at work with flying colors.
My lawn is mowed, my garden tilled (thanks to Jim), the clothes are clean, the house is picked up, I got four straight hours of sleep last night, and was able to toast with my neighbor and cousin to my new found freedom of being single again.
For nearly eight years, I went by another name; became another person by virtue of my marriage vows. And now, I am back to having the name I was born with, with one less older sibling. Things have changed.
I don't know much about coping with the lack of joy in my life right now, but a smile and laugh every once in a while lets me know that one day I may find it again; perhaps not as joyful because of the big flippin' void, but it will come again. Because life is about Hope. Faith is the anchor of the soul. And Love doesn't go away.
Eventually, the fear of losing it at church will subside, and I'll step through the church doors and face God again. I've had the intentions to do so every weekend and I've somehow avoided it. But things change, and I realize how much I really miss it. (Is it okay to where dark sunglasses in church?)
Divorce. Death. Illness. Work. Single Motherhood. Fear. Grief. Life itself.
Love. Hope. Faith. Compassion. Laughter. Kindness. Security. Life itself.
Life's about changing, but some things stay the same.
I am Carrie Lynn Fazzolari, and always was, and very proud to have overcome, even when life itself moved around me.
I swam in the crystal clear waters of love, marriage and motherhood. I traversed through the blessed and not so blessed rivers of the marriage, and came to trudge through the muddy, muddy waters of divorce.
Life's about changing, nothing ever stays the same.
I took my vehicle to the shop. It should be fixed in a couple weeks.
My computer is finally working again.
As the tooth fairy, I have an on-going pen pal relationship with my daughter. [Questions asked yesterday: Are you a boy or girl? (Girl) What is your name? (Tammy)Questions asked today: Where do you live? Do you have wings? What is your favorite color? I'll answer and sign it "Love, T.F."]
The ovarian cyst is shrinking, even though it feels like I'm in labor 18 hours out of every day. But I know that one day, I'll give birth to it and find a blessing in the fact that it has subsided.
I met my deadlines at work with flying colors.
My lawn is mowed, my garden tilled (thanks to Jim), the clothes are clean, the house is picked up, I got four straight hours of sleep last night, and was able to toast with my neighbor and cousin to my new found freedom of being single again.
For nearly eight years, I went by another name; became another person by virtue of my marriage vows. And now, I am back to having the name I was born with, with one less older sibling. Things have changed.
I don't know much about coping with the lack of joy in my life right now, but a smile and laugh every once in a while lets me know that one day I may find it again; perhaps not as joyful because of the big flippin' void, but it will come again. Because life is about Hope. Faith is the anchor of the soul. And Love doesn't go away.
Eventually, the fear of losing it at church will subside, and I'll step through the church doors and face God again. I've had the intentions to do so every weekend and I've somehow avoided it. But things change, and I realize how much I really miss it. (Is it okay to where dark sunglasses in church?)
Divorce. Death. Illness. Work. Single Motherhood. Fear. Grief. Life itself.
Love. Hope. Faith. Compassion. Laughter. Kindness. Security. Life itself.
Life's about changing, but some things stay the same.
I am Carrie Lynn Fazzolari, and always was, and very proud to have overcome, even when life itself moved around me.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Dear T.F.
Lovely child, my daughter. She recently lost a tooth at school, and was so excited as she got off the bus. "Look Mommy!" Her mouth was wide open, the tooth was in a little box and she wondered aloud how much the tooth fairy would bring her this time. The first tooth she lost was on the day of the Breast Cancer walk - it was amidst my entire family. When she showed the gaping hole in her mouth, my brother Jeff reached into his pocket, handed her a five and said, "Tell all the other cheap bastards you want some money for losing that tooth, and tell the tooth fairy to beat that." He smiled and winked at me. She ended up making $20 that day, and expects it every time.
This last time, we talked a lot about the tooth fairy - how amazing it is that she can make it to every house and that she's got so much money to pass out to all the toothless children. Come to think of it, she is pretty amazing! Anyway, she got three ones, a nickel, a penny, a quarter and a dime in a pretty little box.
Yesterday, as soon as she got off the bus, she sat at the kitchen table and started writing.
"What are you writing?"
"A letter to the tooth fairy for all the hard work she does."
I was in complete shock as she wrote, reading it out loud and sounding out the letters. She did pretty well too, only asking me how to spell 'fairy'. She left the note under her pillow and as she was saying her prayers, she mentioned her need to hear back from the tooth fairy.
And the tooth fairy wrote back! She was so excited, she began another letter, this time asking questions. Her last questions were: "Why do you collect teeth anyway, and how do you get all the money to give to kids?"
I'm wondering what the tooth fairy's answer will be. I am thinking that maybe the tooth fairy can answer something like this:
"Because I'm old and decrepit, I've lost all my teeth. And the money comes from your mother's purse because I know how to sneak in and out of the house without waking the dog. I also take old people's teeth from them. Gingivitis, my ass! And when the time comes, I'll take your permanent teeth too. Love, T.F."
Or, maybe she'll tell Paige that she's kind and thoughtful and find out how everything is going at school and at home.
This should be interesting.
This last time, we talked a lot about the tooth fairy - how amazing it is that she can make it to every house and that she's got so much money to pass out to all the toothless children. Come to think of it, she is pretty amazing! Anyway, she got three ones, a nickel, a penny, a quarter and a dime in a pretty little box.
Yesterday, as soon as she got off the bus, she sat at the kitchen table and started writing.
"What are you writing?"
"A letter to the tooth fairy for all the hard work she does."
I was in complete shock as she wrote, reading it out loud and sounding out the letters. She did pretty well too, only asking me how to spell 'fairy'. She left the note under her pillow and as she was saying her prayers, she mentioned her need to hear back from the tooth fairy.
And the tooth fairy wrote back! She was so excited, she began another letter, this time asking questions. Her last questions were: "Why do you collect teeth anyway, and how do you get all the money to give to kids?"
I'm wondering what the tooth fairy's answer will be. I am thinking that maybe the tooth fairy can answer something like this:
"Because I'm old and decrepit, I've lost all my teeth. And the money comes from your mother's purse because I know how to sneak in and out of the house without waking the dog. I also take old people's teeth from them. Gingivitis, my ass! And when the time comes, I'll take your permanent teeth too. Love, T.F."
Or, maybe she'll tell Paige that she's kind and thoughtful and find out how everything is going at school and at home.
This should be interesting.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Arms Wide Open
Yeah, I'm a little afraid sometimes. It took a few days of wondering what was up with me, why I was waking up again thinking about the divorce and it's demise. I kept seeing faces of the women at the kids' counseling center, with kleenexes up to their red noses, puffy eyes from lack of sleep and a certain melancholy expression. In their faces, I saw my own. So many women who were going through the same thing I was going through, and I thought I had a handle on it. They probably thought the same thing. Yesterday, as I drove to pick the kids up, I saw their faces again - nearly two years later and I can still see their faces. The heartbreak they were going through. I said a quick prayer that they had moved on like I had, and then I thought that if I had moved on so well, why was I thinking about them?
I've been getting a little pressure from my friends to start dating again. They've talked up a few "really nice guys" and introduced me to a couple. Because I am a Fuzzy, I can talk to a stump and make it animated, that's never been a problem. I'm funny, I'm honest, I'm witty when I'm not feeling insecure and some people even say I'm pretty - big nose and all. Yet, every time I meet someone new - a potential date - I come home feeling a little deflated. "Nah... not worth it." The meaning behind this is twofold: One, no one will ever be worthy of my children. I want to say there are great guys out there who will try, certainly, and I could be as wrong as my friends tell me I am (and I kind of hope that I am); and two, waking up from a sound sleep in the middle of the night and feeling the heartbreak all over again (after two years!) is not worth having to ever go through again. I think I had my one serious relationship, and sadly, it wasn't even all that good, but I simply cannot be hurt again like that - the disappointment in myself at my own stupidity alone isn't worth it, not to mention the endless questions of why, how, with whom, how?
I've been running a couple miles a day for the past couple of days. I dislike running as much as I dislike grocery shopping, but I dislike my beer gut even more. Slowly, over the past few weeks, my gut has gotten bigger and I woke up on Sunday feeling pretty lousy. So, I vowed to lose the gut by Friday. I can do it. Just a lot of water, running in the mornings to get my metabolism going, playing hard with the kids at night, eating healthy and plenty of rest. It's really not that hard, especially when one only has six or seven pounds to lose. Anyway, as I ran yesterday, I had a bunch of thoughts racing around my head. At the forefront was Jeff, of course; and behind him were money woes, work woes and loneliness. They all wanted to be at the top of the list. So I took a deep breath and began sprinting, running away from the thoughts. The only one who could keep up was Jeff.
I looked up into the bright, blue sky and a hawk was circling. It made a big loop around me, teetering back and forth, having fun! I smiled fast and kept on running. When I stopped and looked up it was way off to the west of me. I stretched a little and turned around and ran back from where I had come. I looked up and it was right above me, following my path. When I reached the end, I turned around and looked up and it was above me again, going the same way I was going. As I slowed in my run, it sped up and flew to where my house was - I lost sight of it when it reached that destination.
It moved me, and since his birthday, I've seen a hawk every day. I even dreamed about him last night. We laughed hard in my dream!
And I realized, that not even death is keeping him from showing his love. And I learned that if death doesn't hold him back, then one lousy husband shouldn't hold me back either. I am free to fly at my own pace. I may never find someone worthy of what is in my soul, but I sure as hell am not going to sit on a perch and wallow.
And if I wake up again, worried about my fragile heart, I will wish to fall back to sleep and dream, dream, dream about the love that lives inside that fragile heart.
I've been getting a little pressure from my friends to start dating again. They've talked up a few "really nice guys" and introduced me to a couple. Because I am a Fuzzy, I can talk to a stump and make it animated, that's never been a problem. I'm funny, I'm honest, I'm witty when I'm not feeling insecure and some people even say I'm pretty - big nose and all. Yet, every time I meet someone new - a potential date - I come home feeling a little deflated. "Nah... not worth it." The meaning behind this is twofold: One, no one will ever be worthy of my children. I want to say there are great guys out there who will try, certainly, and I could be as wrong as my friends tell me I am (and I kind of hope that I am); and two, waking up from a sound sleep in the middle of the night and feeling the heartbreak all over again (after two years!) is not worth having to ever go through again. I think I had my one serious relationship, and sadly, it wasn't even all that good, but I simply cannot be hurt again like that - the disappointment in myself at my own stupidity alone isn't worth it, not to mention the endless questions of why, how, with whom, how?
I've been running a couple miles a day for the past couple of days. I dislike running as much as I dislike grocery shopping, but I dislike my beer gut even more. Slowly, over the past few weeks, my gut has gotten bigger and I woke up on Sunday feeling pretty lousy. So, I vowed to lose the gut by Friday. I can do it. Just a lot of water, running in the mornings to get my metabolism going, playing hard with the kids at night, eating healthy and plenty of rest. It's really not that hard, especially when one only has six or seven pounds to lose. Anyway, as I ran yesterday, I had a bunch of thoughts racing around my head. At the forefront was Jeff, of course; and behind him were money woes, work woes and loneliness. They all wanted to be at the top of the list. So I took a deep breath and began sprinting, running away from the thoughts. The only one who could keep up was Jeff.
I looked up into the bright, blue sky and a hawk was circling. It made a big loop around me, teetering back and forth, having fun! I smiled fast and kept on running. When I stopped and looked up it was way off to the west of me. I stretched a little and turned around and ran back from where I had come. I looked up and it was right above me, following my path. When I reached the end, I turned around and looked up and it was above me again, going the same way I was going. As I slowed in my run, it sped up and flew to where my house was - I lost sight of it when it reached that destination.
It moved me, and since his birthday, I've seen a hawk every day. I even dreamed about him last night. We laughed hard in my dream!
And I realized, that not even death is keeping him from showing his love. And I learned that if death doesn't hold him back, then one lousy husband shouldn't hold me back either. I am free to fly at my own pace. I may never find someone worthy of what is in my soul, but I sure as hell am not going to sit on a perch and wallow.
And if I wake up again, worried about my fragile heart, I will wish to fall back to sleep and dream, dream, dream about the love that lives inside that fragile heart.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Take Me Back
I'm trying. I'm really trying to stay positive and to stop myself from slipping into the mud again, but the rain has been falling hard lately, and I'm just so tired. Highlights of my weekend: Tony snuck into the open hatch back of my truck, turned the key in the ignition, took his short little right leg and put it on the brake while putting the truck in neutral. The truck rolled down the driveway, I jumped out of the way, yelling for Tony not to move (he was trying to jump out the back), and jumped into the front seat to put it into park, just after the hatch back made contact with the garage door and both were crumpled. Tony kept saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." I was speechless for a good two minutes, then I said a quick thank you to God that nobody got hurt, and I banished Tony from ever getting in the truck again. (I take the blame, I should have had the emergency brake on or something, yet I was three feet from the truck the whole time, sweeping dirt from the walkway and the last time I checked, he was laying flat in the back eating doritos). Of course, I had just received the insurance check for the damage that the a-hole-who-left-the-scene did. Of course, that check won't even cover a third of the damage to the hatch. And my ex laughed, stating that I deserved it. Okay, it's funny in a thank-God-nobody-got-hurt-and-how-did-Tony-figure-it-out kind of way, but to state that I deserved it? Happy that I have to deal the cost and pain of getting it fixed? Another colon problem, I guess.
After my brother bent the door back with a crowbar and bungee'd the door so it would stay closed, I drove to pick up my computer from the shop. After $450, you'd think it would work, wouldn't you? Nah. I wouldn't normally care but I have two massive deadlines for work.
Oh my! I am beginning to sound like one of them people.
I know what's important, and my heart is so full of the truth of what is important, but for God's sake, I need a break! I need a break before I break. I've been feeling this way for nearly two months and I have not gotten a day without something happening that throws me sideways. Not one day. And I try to stay in the moment, and smile, and count my blessings, and do kindnesses, but the crap just keeps coming. What else can I do? I feel like Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh, who tells his friends (who want the black cloud to go away so they can play), "I'll just go home, that cloud is sure to follow me..."
Oh, tomorrow is my divorce - final papers. Done. Over. New name. So, that should be an emotionally uneventful day. You think?
Anyway, I heard this song today and it has become a prayer for me because I don't want to break. I've been so strong for so long, I can't break.
Take Me Back - Van Morrison
I've been walking by the river
I've been walking down by the water
I've been walking down by the river
I've been feeling so sad and blue
I've been thinking, I've been thinking, I've been thinking,
I've been thinking, I've been thinking, I've been thinking,
Ah there's so much suffering, and it's
Too much confusion, too much, too much confusion in the world
Take me back, take me back, take me back
Take me way back, take me way back, take me way back
Take me way, way, way, way, way, way, way back.
Help me understand
Take me... do you remember the time darlin'
When everything made more sense in the world?
Oh I remember, I remember
When life made more sense
Take me back, take me back, take me back, take me back
Take me back to when the world made more sense
Well there's too much suffering and confusion
And I'm walking down by the river
Oh, let me understand religion
Way, way back, way back
When you walked, in a green field, in a green meadow
Down an avenue of trees
On a golden summer
And the sky was blue
And you didn't have no worries, you didn't have no care
You were walking in a green field
In a meadow, through the buttercups, in the summertime
And you looked way out over, way out
Way out over the city and the water
And it feels so good, and it feels so good
And you keep on walking
And the music on the radio, and the music on the radio
Has so much soul, has so much soul
And you listen, in the nightime
While we're still and quiet
And you look out on the water
And the big ships, and the big boats
Came on sailing by, by, by, by
And you felt so good, and I felt so good
Take me way, way, way back, way back
To when, when I understood
When I understood the light, when I understood the light
In the golden afternoon, in the golden afternoon
In the golden afternoon, in the golden afternoon
In the golden afternoon when we sat and listened to Sonny Boy blow
In the golden afternoon when
We sat and let Sonny Boy, blow, blow his harp
Take me back, take me back, take me back
Take me way, way, way, way, way, way, way
Back when I, when I understood, when I understood
When I was walking down the
Walking down the street and
It didn't matter
`Cause everything felt, everything felt, everything felt
Everything felt, everything felt, everything felt, everything felt
Everything felt, everything felt, everything felt so right,
And so good
Everything felt, so right, and so good
In the eternal now, in the eternal moment
In the eternal now, in the eternal moment
In the eternal now
Everything felt so good, so good, so good, so good, so good
And so right, so right, so right,
In the eternal moment, in the eternal moment
When you lived, when you lived
When you lived, in the light
When you lived in the grace
In the grace, in grace
When you lived in the light
In the light, in the grace
And the blessing.
After my brother bent the door back with a crowbar and bungee'd the door so it would stay closed, I drove to pick up my computer from the shop. After $450, you'd think it would work, wouldn't you? Nah. I wouldn't normally care but I have two massive deadlines for work.
Oh my! I am beginning to sound like one of them people.
I know what's important, and my heart is so full of the truth of what is important, but for God's sake, I need a break! I need a break before I break. I've been feeling this way for nearly two months and I have not gotten a day without something happening that throws me sideways. Not one day. And I try to stay in the moment, and smile, and count my blessings, and do kindnesses, but the crap just keeps coming. What else can I do? I feel like Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh, who tells his friends (who want the black cloud to go away so they can play), "I'll just go home, that cloud is sure to follow me..."
Oh, tomorrow is my divorce - final papers. Done. Over. New name. So, that should be an emotionally uneventful day. You think?
Anyway, I heard this song today and it has become a prayer for me because I don't want to break. I've been so strong for so long, I can't break.
Take Me Back - Van Morrison
I've been walking by the river
I've been walking down by the water
I've been walking down by the river
I've been feeling so sad and blue
I've been thinking, I've been thinking, I've been thinking,
I've been thinking, I've been thinking, I've been thinking,
Ah there's so much suffering, and it's
Too much confusion, too much, too much confusion in the world
Take me back, take me back, take me back
Take me way back, take me way back, take me way back
Take me way, way, way, way, way, way, way back.
Help me understand
Take me... do you remember the time darlin'
When everything made more sense in the world?
Oh I remember, I remember
When life made more sense
Take me back, take me back, take me back, take me back
Take me back to when the world made more sense
Well there's too much suffering and confusion
And I'm walking down by the river
Oh, let me understand religion
Way, way back, way back
When you walked, in a green field, in a green meadow
Down an avenue of trees
On a golden summer
And the sky was blue
And you didn't have no worries, you didn't have no care
You were walking in a green field
In a meadow, through the buttercups, in the summertime
And you looked way out over, way out
Way out over the city and the water
And it feels so good, and it feels so good
And you keep on walking
And the music on the radio, and the music on the radio
Has so much soul, has so much soul
And you listen, in the nightime
While we're still and quiet
And you look out on the water
And the big ships, and the big boats
Came on sailing by, by, by, by
And you felt so good, and I felt so good
Take me way, way, way back, way back
To when, when I understood
When I understood the light, when I understood the light
In the golden afternoon, in the golden afternoon
In the golden afternoon, in the golden afternoon
In the golden afternoon when we sat and listened to Sonny Boy blow
In the golden afternoon when
We sat and let Sonny Boy, blow, blow his harp
Take me back, take me back, take me back
Take me way, way, way, way, way, way, way
Back when I, when I understood, when I understood
When I was walking down the
Walking down the street and
It didn't matter
`Cause everything felt, everything felt, everything felt
Everything felt, everything felt, everything felt, everything felt
Everything felt, everything felt, everything felt so right,
And so good
Everything felt, so right, and so good
In the eternal now, in the eternal moment
In the eternal now, in the eternal moment
In the eternal now
Everything felt so good, so good, so good, so good, so good
And so right, so right, so right,
In the eternal moment, in the eternal moment
When you lived, when you lived
When you lived, in the light
When you lived in the grace
In the grace, in grace
When you lived in the light
In the light, in the grace
And the blessing.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
It's Not My Colon, You A-Hole!
There I was, so mad at my colon for all these weeks... and it had nothing to do with any of my digestational (is that a word?) capabilities. I called my colon an asshole for no reason! The real assholes are my ovaries - or rather the cysts on my ovaries. They've been the cause of my pain - in the belly, in the pelvis, in the back. I've been getting treated for a bladder infection, kidney infection and bacterial infection of the intestines, and all along it has been my right, useless (at this time), ovary.
I spent the day at the ER. I was not going to continue taking antibiotics that were not doing their job - and if I did have a kidney infection and felt as bad as I have felt, I needed to get it checked out. So, I drove myself there and got all kinds of tests done, and the cysts on my ovary are the culprits for all of this. Eight hours later, and I am still in pain (there is no "cure", they just have to disappear on their own), but with two more antibiotics (to kill the infected cysts) and a "pain killer that you will thank me for" (the words of my ER doctor). Thank you. I can't take them, but at night, but I know that I am going to pop one of those babies in my mouth tonight and sleepy, sleepy.
The ER nurse who discharged me was, 1. Awfully cute (a stay at home dad, raising a 4 yr old and 6 yr old, two days in the ER, a chef the other hours he has free in the day); and 2. Very sympathetic. He said, "Oh, cysts on your ovaries. They're very painful." And I said, "Oh, have you had one before?" We both giggled, and he handed me my painkiller prescription. Good guy, he was. Don't know his name, but know he can cook a great pasta meal and he makes his own Italian sausage. Why didn't I get his number? Because men suck!
Just a little humor.
Still feeling crappy, but at least I know the source now.
I spent the day at the ER. I was not going to continue taking antibiotics that were not doing their job - and if I did have a kidney infection and felt as bad as I have felt, I needed to get it checked out. So, I drove myself there and got all kinds of tests done, and the cysts on my ovary are the culprits for all of this. Eight hours later, and I am still in pain (there is no "cure", they just have to disappear on their own), but with two more antibiotics (to kill the infected cysts) and a "pain killer that you will thank me for" (the words of my ER doctor). Thank you. I can't take them, but at night, but I know that I am going to pop one of those babies in my mouth tonight and sleepy, sleepy.
The ER nurse who discharged me was, 1. Awfully cute (a stay at home dad, raising a 4 yr old and 6 yr old, two days in the ER, a chef the other hours he has free in the day); and 2. Very sympathetic. He said, "Oh, cysts on your ovaries. They're very painful." And I said, "Oh, have you had one before?" We both giggled, and he handed me my painkiller prescription. Good guy, he was. Don't know his name, but know he can cook a great pasta meal and he makes his own Italian sausage. Why didn't I get his number? Because men suck!
Just a little humor.
Still feeling crappy, but at least I know the source now.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Rainy Days and Tuesdays....
and Mondays, and Wednesdays and Thursdays, and Fridays, and Saturdays and Sundays, always get me down...
Where oh where is the sunshine? And why oh why do I feel like I woke up in Seattle, without the Grey's Anatomy's character (uh, McSteamy is a contender with Owen Wilson for a spot on the right side of my bed - after he pushes Paige and Tony out. Ah hell, we'll just use the sofa and let the kids sleep in peace...).
I don't know if it's the rain or the fact that my mother and I talked for the first time in a few days, and she is still so heartbroken and sad, and she said, "I prayed for the safety of my kids since they were born, and now look what happened? What's the point of it?" I tried not to get sad. I tried not to get upset. I failed.
"The point Ma is that you still have five other children that need you." I said this, and I told her that if I could take away the hurt and heartbreak for just one moment for her to see through it to the love that is still here, I would. She heard me though, and although we cried together, she said, "I know. I know. My faith is still with God."
Phew, that's good.
Her sadness though put a veil over my head today. I think maybe there was some chemical interaction with the layer of moisture that is making it rain so hard in Maryland, and a really bad mood because I am crabby today. Crabby!
I spent the morning envisioning the argument I would get into with my insurance company if they made me pay for the damage to my car; I envisioned an argument with Best Buy that I'd have if they charged me any more money to fix my computer; and I envisioned a full out battle with my small and large intestines if they even thought about acting up again (because they're real fiesty these past two days)... all for what? What is the point?
There are days when I want to continue to sleep... all day, and in that moment, every day. The heaviness of the weather, the heaviness of the emotions and the unbearable weight of living without a purpose (obviously the fog makes it really unclear), makes me think like this. And so, in order to find the purpose, I get aggressive and angry. I've felt this way maybe two times in the past three years or so.
I know there is a point. I know that my faith is anchoring my soul. I know that my children, my friends, my family are my purpose. I know that God sees it all, hears it all, feels what I am feeling. I know this. But there are some days when I just want to go to sleep and wake up to a sunny day.
Weatherman says the rain isn't going to let up any time soon. The dark cloud has risen... I'm heading straight into the storm. But I don't want to. On this Tuesday, I just want to stay down, sipping white wine and singing with Karen Carpenter. Rainy days and Tuesdays always get me down...
Where oh where is the sunshine? And why oh why do I feel like I woke up in Seattle, without the Grey's Anatomy's character (uh, McSteamy is a contender with Owen Wilson for a spot on the right side of my bed - after he pushes Paige and Tony out. Ah hell, we'll just use the sofa and let the kids sleep in peace...).
I don't know if it's the rain or the fact that my mother and I talked for the first time in a few days, and she is still so heartbroken and sad, and she said, "I prayed for the safety of my kids since they were born, and now look what happened? What's the point of it?" I tried not to get sad. I tried not to get upset. I failed.
"The point Ma is that you still have five other children that need you." I said this, and I told her that if I could take away the hurt and heartbreak for just one moment for her to see through it to the love that is still here, I would. She heard me though, and although we cried together, she said, "I know. I know. My faith is still with God."
Phew, that's good.
Her sadness though put a veil over my head today. I think maybe there was some chemical interaction with the layer of moisture that is making it rain so hard in Maryland, and a really bad mood because I am crabby today. Crabby!
I spent the morning envisioning the argument I would get into with my insurance company if they made me pay for the damage to my car; I envisioned an argument with Best Buy that I'd have if they charged me any more money to fix my computer; and I envisioned a full out battle with my small and large intestines if they even thought about acting up again (because they're real fiesty these past two days)... all for what? What is the point?
There are days when I want to continue to sleep... all day, and in that moment, every day. The heaviness of the weather, the heaviness of the emotions and the unbearable weight of living without a purpose (obviously the fog makes it really unclear), makes me think like this. And so, in order to find the purpose, I get aggressive and angry. I've felt this way maybe two times in the past three years or so.
I know there is a point. I know that my faith is anchoring my soul. I know that my children, my friends, my family are my purpose. I know that God sees it all, hears it all, feels what I am feeling. I know this. But there are some days when I just want to go to sleep and wake up to a sunny day.
Weatherman says the rain isn't going to let up any time soon. The dark cloud has risen... I'm heading straight into the storm. But I don't want to. On this Tuesday, I just want to stay down, sipping white wine and singing with Karen Carpenter. Rainy days and Tuesdays always get me down...
Saturday, May 2, 2009
A Million Little Things
I can see his grin, the shrug of his shoulders as I recite the latest catastrophe. I can see the grains of chew stuck between the bottom teeth, and his lower lip big and round, like he stuffed a marshmallow in it. "Eh, what're you gonna do?" And then the shrug.
What a gift to me - to be able to see his face so clearly, and hear his voice. It was a big loss to heaven. A big loss. They got him, I got the memories.
In the past four weeks, I've had a rough road. A bunch of little things infecting my days - like poisonous spider bites trying to wreak havoc on the rest of my life. Here's the list:
1. Sunburn - ruby red legs, back, face, arms and neck; the bubbling of skin, the peeling and peeling and peeling and then the itch. I'm still itching in some areas and it's a bit embarrassing, to say the least. Good thing it wasn't a nude beach. I only say that because I spent most of my time with Cliff on that beach, and ewwww, can you imagine that?
2. A bacterial infection in my small and large intestines, causing severe abdominal pain and some blockages. I am happy to say that the abdominal pain has subsided to only hurting when I laugh (which isn't that often), and the blockages have exploded into little pieces.
3. A workload that has put me over the top. Deadlines, plus my side job (contracts as a consultant for extra cash) with deadlines, plus two beautifully energetic children, who, by the way, have been concerned about my health, and so react in a hyper way - not a sympathetic way. (As an aside, I am very grateful for a job, and for the extra side-income job).
4. I lifted two garbage cans into the back of my truck after a twelve hour workday, and when I hit the brakes to go over the speed bump, all the dirty garbage water gushed into the entire back of the truck... about two inches of water that stunk! I spent the next morning steam cleaning it, and had to wait two days because of monsoon-like weather of Maryland to air it out. I smelled like I worked at the dump.
5. I went to Home Depot last week to pick up some gardening supplies. It took me 20 minutes in the store. When I got back to my car, I saw that some idiot had smashed the whole passenger side of my truck - only about $3000 in damage. Oh, and no note. So I spent two hours in that parking lot, waiting for the police to finish a report. I am happy to announce that it will get fixed for a nominal deductible and I'll be on my way, while some A-hole is telling the story. "Yeah, I took the whole side of that truck out." "Did you leave a note?" "Hell, no. Why would I do that? That would be the nice, golden-rule, kinda thingy to do, and I'm an A-hole."
6. I threw my back out for two days. Nothing like crawling to work, gasping in pain, and trying to explain to the kids that, "Yes, Mommy is in pain again, and cannot run around the house like a big idiot, dancing and playing." (Thankfully, a little heat and some rest helped me out).
7. I prayed to St. Theresa to intercede on these matters. I am waiting to see the rose that tells me she heard and interceded.
8. Perhaps I'll see it on my computer, when I get it back from the shop. Yes, I was working along, on the computer that has all the pictures of my kids, all my i-tunes purchases, all my documents from both jobs, all my short stories, my work--in-progress novels... all of it, when the screen went black. No reaction. Nothing. All gone.
But you know, and here is my point, I'll take a million of these little things if I don't have to lose a fight with heaven again. And even Jeff wouldn't shrug his shoulders at that.
What a gift to me - to be able to see his face so clearly, and hear his voice. It was a big loss to heaven. A big loss. They got him, I got the memories.
In the past four weeks, I've had a rough road. A bunch of little things infecting my days - like poisonous spider bites trying to wreak havoc on the rest of my life. Here's the list:
1. Sunburn - ruby red legs, back, face, arms and neck; the bubbling of skin, the peeling and peeling and peeling and then the itch. I'm still itching in some areas and it's a bit embarrassing, to say the least. Good thing it wasn't a nude beach. I only say that because I spent most of my time with Cliff on that beach, and ewwww, can you imagine that?
2. A bacterial infection in my small and large intestines, causing severe abdominal pain and some blockages. I am happy to say that the abdominal pain has subsided to only hurting when I laugh (which isn't that often), and the blockages have exploded into little pieces.
3. A workload that has put me over the top. Deadlines, plus my side job (contracts as a consultant for extra cash) with deadlines, plus two beautifully energetic children, who, by the way, have been concerned about my health, and so react in a hyper way - not a sympathetic way. (As an aside, I am very grateful for a job, and for the extra side-income job).
4. I lifted two garbage cans into the back of my truck after a twelve hour workday, and when I hit the brakes to go over the speed bump, all the dirty garbage water gushed into the entire back of the truck... about two inches of water that stunk! I spent the next morning steam cleaning it, and had to wait two days because of monsoon-like weather of Maryland to air it out. I smelled like I worked at the dump.
5. I went to Home Depot last week to pick up some gardening supplies. It took me 20 minutes in the store. When I got back to my car, I saw that some idiot had smashed the whole passenger side of my truck - only about $3000 in damage. Oh, and no note. So I spent two hours in that parking lot, waiting for the police to finish a report. I am happy to announce that it will get fixed for a nominal deductible and I'll be on my way, while some A-hole is telling the story. "Yeah, I took the whole side of that truck out." "Did you leave a note?" "Hell, no. Why would I do that? That would be the nice, golden-rule, kinda thingy to do, and I'm an A-hole."
6. I threw my back out for two days. Nothing like crawling to work, gasping in pain, and trying to explain to the kids that, "Yes, Mommy is in pain again, and cannot run around the house like a big idiot, dancing and playing." (Thankfully, a little heat and some rest helped me out).
7. I prayed to St. Theresa to intercede on these matters. I am waiting to see the rose that tells me she heard and interceded.
8. Perhaps I'll see it on my computer, when I get it back from the shop. Yes, I was working along, on the computer that has all the pictures of my kids, all my i-tunes purchases, all my documents from both jobs, all my short stories, my work--in-progress novels... all of it, when the screen went black. No reaction. Nothing. All gone.
But you know, and here is my point, I'll take a million of these little things if I don't have to lose a fight with heaven again. And even Jeff wouldn't shrug his shoulders at that.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
And So It Goes...
I made it exactly (well, maybe not exactly)4 days without feeling any physical pain. No belly infection; no PMS; no headache; and no sunburn. And now?
I threw my back out again.
I am walking like a 75 year old at an amusement park with the kids... trying so hard to keep a game face, but hurting like somebody is taking a sledgehammer to my kidneys. And it's funny, because at 37 years old, I sound like my Grandpa Fuzzy eating his breakfast...."Mmm, hhh, mmmm, owww, hmmm..." and this is just me sitting on the sofa. When I try to walk to the bathroom (bladder infection), it is much, much worse.
Okay, fine, that doesn't matter. The highlight of my night was playing multiple choice questions with the kids. I started it: "I love you as much as: a) the trees growing in the backyard, b) the height of the house or c) the universe?"
"The universe!" Both of my geniuses answered correctly.
"Okay, this one is a little harder. I love you as much as: a) my pinky finger nail, b) a nose hair and c) my big, brilliant, manicured toe nail."
They giggled hard at the nose hair comment, but in the end, answered correctly: My big, brilliant, manicured toe nail.
Once they got the gist of the game (my version of getting them ready for the LSATS), they wanted to create their own multiple choice questions.
Paige: a) My homework, b) the truck or c) My heart. You know the answer.
Tony: a) My butthole, b) Your butthole or c) GRRRRRR.....
Not sure how to answer, but it didn't matter because Paige began crying and ruined the whole thing. She was very, very frustrated.
"Why are you frustrated?" I asked.
"Because Tony's comic words are annoying." She answered.
I laughed so hard, my back hurt.
And guess where I'm going?
a) Bed
b) A Bonfire Party
c) To Mexico to meet up with a pig
I threw my back out again.
I am walking like a 75 year old at an amusement park with the kids... trying so hard to keep a game face, but hurting like somebody is taking a sledgehammer to my kidneys. And it's funny, because at 37 years old, I sound like my Grandpa Fuzzy eating his breakfast...."Mmm, hhh, mmmm, owww, hmmm..." and this is just me sitting on the sofa. When I try to walk to the bathroom (bladder infection), it is much, much worse.
Okay, fine, that doesn't matter. The highlight of my night was playing multiple choice questions with the kids. I started it: "I love you as much as: a) the trees growing in the backyard, b) the height of the house or c) the universe?"
"The universe!" Both of my geniuses answered correctly.
"Okay, this one is a little harder. I love you as much as: a) my pinky finger nail, b) a nose hair and c) my big, brilliant, manicured toe nail."
They giggled hard at the nose hair comment, but in the end, answered correctly: My big, brilliant, manicured toe nail.
Once they got the gist of the game (my version of getting them ready for the LSATS), they wanted to create their own multiple choice questions.
Paige: a) My homework, b) the truck or c) My heart. You know the answer.
Tony: a) My butthole, b) Your butthole or c) GRRRRRR.....
Not sure how to answer, but it didn't matter because Paige began crying and ruined the whole thing. She was very, very frustrated.
"Why are you frustrated?" I asked.
"Because Tony's comic words are annoying." She answered.
I laughed so hard, my back hurt.
And guess where I'm going?
a) Bed
b) A Bonfire Party
c) To Mexico to meet up with a pig
Friday, April 24, 2009
Wasted
For the past couple weeks, I've worked twelve hour days. Doing that, and raising two kids on my own for those two weeks, with little less than a three hour break took its toll. There wasn't time for worrying, there wasn't time for wanting. The only thing I could do was go from one thing to the next, to the next, and try to keep a smile on my face the entire time. And I did, for the most part. I realized, in this week of busy-ness, how much time I had previously wasted. I spent months - MONTHS - trying to figure out why the divorce was happening. I spent energy - so much energy - on the tears, the anger, the fear and the sorrow. And you know, the "why" answer is no clearer to me than on the day he walked out. I wasted so many days wondering about that why. Gone. Wasted, wondering why.
The why doesn't matter. The why will never be answered because I am not him, and he is not me. The "why did Jeff die?" question sits in the same wasted time box. I don't know. I will never know - at least not on this earth. So why ask why?
During the separation and into the upcoming divorce, I spent many days learning about myself; my priorities; my wants; my needs and my hopes for the future. NOT wasted. I am very grateful for that, and the tears I cried in figuring that out - NOT wasted.
I've learned. In all of this, I have learned so much. And this morning, in the midst of hammering out contracts, with sips of coffee in between, while my i-pod blared music, I had to stop. The song Life Itself came on, and I glanced up at Jeff's picture, and that was it. I was done for. I shook my head hard back and forth, and said, "No, no, no..." and I hit forward on the radio. After several seconds of a different song, with the wave of sadness rippling throughout my body, I hit the back button and turned the song as loud as Gracie could bear. And I cried. I cried for my sorrow over having lost a beautiful person in my life. I cried with every memory I had of his smile - from the age of four through the age of 38. I cried because I know that I will not see him - physically - again for a very long time. I sang the words to the song with tears streaming down my face and I wailed with the chorus. When the song ended, I turned off the stereo, sat back in my desk chair, took a deep breath, closed my eyes and thanked God for that moment. It wasn't wasted. It had to be done. Soon after, I blew a kiss to his picture and got back to work.
As sad as it seems, it was a moment in my life that I lived. Yes, my grief over having lost my brother is part of my life now - it is a grief that I will live with forever, and live with it, I must. Trying to ignore it by shaking my head and begging "no" is simply a waste of my time because it will have affected my work, my responsibilities toward the kids and my interaction with the kids and everyone else around me.
I have decided to feel the pain when it comes - allow it to be a blessing that reminds me of how much I have loved, of how much I love, of how much I will continue to love.
And I will not waste any more of this precious time I have in my life, worrying about non-essential things. I cannot afford to do that. Every moment is my moment to live. Every moment wasted is a moment that I owned and threw away - gone forever from my life.
Love. Show love. Live love. Be love. There is never a wasted moment in loving, even if it's surfing on a huge wave of sorrow.
The why doesn't matter. The why will never be answered because I am not him, and he is not me. The "why did Jeff die?" question sits in the same wasted time box. I don't know. I will never know - at least not on this earth. So why ask why?
During the separation and into the upcoming divorce, I spent many days learning about myself; my priorities; my wants; my needs and my hopes for the future. NOT wasted. I am very grateful for that, and the tears I cried in figuring that out - NOT wasted.
I've learned. In all of this, I have learned so much. And this morning, in the midst of hammering out contracts, with sips of coffee in between, while my i-pod blared music, I had to stop. The song Life Itself came on, and I glanced up at Jeff's picture, and that was it. I was done for. I shook my head hard back and forth, and said, "No, no, no..." and I hit forward on the radio. After several seconds of a different song, with the wave of sadness rippling throughout my body, I hit the back button and turned the song as loud as Gracie could bear. And I cried. I cried for my sorrow over having lost a beautiful person in my life. I cried with every memory I had of his smile - from the age of four through the age of 38. I cried because I know that I will not see him - physically - again for a very long time. I sang the words to the song with tears streaming down my face and I wailed with the chorus. When the song ended, I turned off the stereo, sat back in my desk chair, took a deep breath, closed my eyes and thanked God for that moment. It wasn't wasted. It had to be done. Soon after, I blew a kiss to his picture and got back to work.
As sad as it seems, it was a moment in my life that I lived. Yes, my grief over having lost my brother is part of my life now - it is a grief that I will live with forever, and live with it, I must. Trying to ignore it by shaking my head and begging "no" is simply a waste of my time because it will have affected my work, my responsibilities toward the kids and my interaction with the kids and everyone else around me.
I have decided to feel the pain when it comes - allow it to be a blessing that reminds me of how much I have loved, of how much I love, of how much I will continue to love.
And I will not waste any more of this precious time I have in my life, worrying about non-essential things. I cannot afford to do that. Every moment is my moment to live. Every moment wasted is a moment that I owned and threw away - gone forever from my life.
Love. Show love. Live love. Be love. There is never a wasted moment in loving, even if it's surfing on a huge wave of sorrow.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Tracy Chapman Does it Again...
THE ONLY ONE (excerpt of the lyrics)
... I've mostly lost the voice to speak
And any words to say except
Does heaven have enough angels yet?
I've gone hard
And I've gone cold
I can't make the piece of this cracked life fit
Please forgive me for wanting to know
Does heaven have enough angels yet?
He was the only one
Of my own flesh and blood (besides Cor, John, Cliff, Jim, Mom & Dad)
Sometimes I hear him calling
Straight from the house of God
... I've mostly lost the voice to speak
And any words to say except
Does heaven have enough angels yet?
I've gone hard
And I've gone cold
I can't make the piece of this cracked life fit
Please forgive me for wanting to know
Does heaven have enough angels yet?
He was the only one
Of my own flesh and blood (besides Cor, John, Cliff, Jim, Mom & Dad)
Sometimes I hear him calling
Straight from the house of God
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Steve Austin and Jamie Summers
Yes. You know who they are. By the time I am done with this post, you will have remembered. Ah... you already know, don't you?
They were the heroes of my childhood. And they shall be the heroes of my childrens' childhood.
It was late 1995, autumn, a Saturday morning during my first semester of law school, around 10:00 in the morning:
"Hey, watcha doin'?"
"Reading. It sucks."
"Well, TBS has a marathon of the six million dollar man and the bionic woman running until midnight. Turn it on."
I turned it on, while I studied, and I got a phone call or two, or three throughout the day from my brother Jeff. We loved that show.
For some reason, I thought about Steve Austin and Jamie Summers this evening, and so I googled the names, and with tears streaming down my face, I had the kids watch the You Tube videos with me.
"Can she lift a car?"
"Yep, and she can tear a phone book in half!" I answered.
"Can he run as fast as a Cheetah?"
"Yep."
"Can she?"
"Yep."
"Can we get the movie?"
"Absolutely."
"Do you think John and Farrah would like it?"
"Absolutely. If there is nothing else in my life that I ever do, I will introduce the six million dollar man and the bionic woman to you guys and your cousins."
And so, $99 later, 105 episodes, five seasons of the six million dollar man... they are on their way. The bionic woman is soon to follow as soon as I find a good deal.
My life. Their life. My parents did good with letting me and Jeff watch, so why change things?
Can't wait to watch them!
They were the heroes of my childhood. And they shall be the heroes of my childrens' childhood.
It was late 1995, autumn, a Saturday morning during my first semester of law school, around 10:00 in the morning:
"Hey, watcha doin'?"
"Reading. It sucks."
"Well, TBS has a marathon of the six million dollar man and the bionic woman running until midnight. Turn it on."
I turned it on, while I studied, and I got a phone call or two, or three throughout the day from my brother Jeff. We loved that show.
For some reason, I thought about Steve Austin and Jamie Summers this evening, and so I googled the names, and with tears streaming down my face, I had the kids watch the You Tube videos with me.
"Can she lift a car?"
"Yep, and she can tear a phone book in half!" I answered.
"Can he run as fast as a Cheetah?"
"Yep."
"Can she?"
"Yep."
"Can we get the movie?"
"Absolutely."
"Do you think John and Farrah would like it?"
"Absolutely. If there is nothing else in my life that I ever do, I will introduce the six million dollar man and the bionic woman to you guys and your cousins."
And so, $99 later, 105 episodes, five seasons of the six million dollar man... they are on their way. The bionic woman is soon to follow as soon as I find a good deal.
My life. Their life. My parents did good with letting me and Jeff watch, so why change things?
Can't wait to watch them!
Fricago, Here I Come!
It's been a hell of a ride since I got home from my two days in Florida. First, the stomach pain - unbelievable - and two very energetic kids. Did you know they like to draw, paint, watch DVDs, play the guitar, play video games, have tea parties with ALL their stuffed animals, eat candy or ice cream, play trucks, and make a big meal with their kitchen set? They do. And they do all of it in a span of about twenty minutes, every half hour or so. You can imagine what my house looks/looked/looks like from that twenty minute frenzy. I pick up, they play. I pick up, scream, and they give me hugs and kisses, and then they play. I kick them outside, pick up the house, and look to see that my backyard is strewn with balls, bicycles, kites, tree limbs and rocks. Okay. I'm done. Time to lay on the hammock and let it all go. And they snuggle up and we're done worrying about the mess because our love is all that really matters. Phase in, phase out.
Yesterday, I got home from work at 7pm. Before driving up my street, I lifted two garbage cans and a recycle bin into the back of my truck. When I hit the brakes to go over the speed bump on my road, all the water that was in the bottom garbage can came rolling out and all over the truck floor. I smelled it first, then I saw it soaking the carpets. I looked up to the heavens and said, "The devil's an asshole." And I looked down to the ground and gave him the finger.
I had begun my day at the office at around 9:15am, worked hard all day, came home exhausted and the kids were already here from their dinner date with their daddy. I walked into the house - toys, shoes, lunch pals, backpacks, paper all over the living area. I gave them kisses and hugs and Paige greeted me with a present she bought at the school store - Sylvester the cat saying, "Sufferin' Succotash!" She bought it just for me because she knew I'd love it. The mess? The water in the back of my truck? Who cares? Phase in, phase out.
I sat down for a quick dinner - sandwich on wheat = delicious. The kids saw me sitting there and begged for me to get the guitars down, to do crafts, to read a book. I took huge bites of my sandwich, and said, "Let Mommy finish this sangwich and I'll be right there." And they said, "Okay. We're going to get our luggage ready for our trip to Fricago then!"
Their imaginations took them from packing all the essentials, to getting their bus tickets, their plane tickets and their "house" reservations for their trip to Fricago. I listened to their conversations as I ate, and thought of how inspiring their enthusiasm to go to Fricago was. An unknown destination.
My thoughts then went from the ache in my kidneys (infection got them), to thoughts of Jeff, as they do every twenty minutes or so, and I was thrilled with the idea that he now knows the great unknown. The thought filled me with comfort, and I realized that my kids' imaginary Fricago gave me the thought.
I get so frustrated with the mess of my house sometimes, and frustrated with feeling like crap and not having the energy to keep it as clean as I'd like, but then I realize that I wouldn't want my children to be any other way. And when I ask, usually accompanied by a guilt trip or a bribe, they'll help me clean up - as soon as they're done saving the world with their laser-pointing fingers and incredibly muscular arms. When they're working together to get ready for Fricago, when we're all singing and dancing, and laughing together - even if it's only for ten minutes - I realize I too, am getting a piece of the unknown that Jeff is now experiencing. And that is why my faith will not be moved - regardless of the stomach pain, the stinky garbage water, the long day of work and the messy house. That ten minute light extinguishes all the darkness thrown my way.
And I hope Jeff works with the Big Guy to send me a piece of heaven every day, even if I have to go through the mess of getting ready to go to Fricago to see it.
Yesterday, I got home from work at 7pm. Before driving up my street, I lifted two garbage cans and a recycle bin into the back of my truck. When I hit the brakes to go over the speed bump on my road, all the water that was in the bottom garbage can came rolling out and all over the truck floor. I smelled it first, then I saw it soaking the carpets. I looked up to the heavens and said, "The devil's an asshole." And I looked down to the ground and gave him the finger.
I had begun my day at the office at around 9:15am, worked hard all day, came home exhausted and the kids were already here from their dinner date with their daddy. I walked into the house - toys, shoes, lunch pals, backpacks, paper all over the living area. I gave them kisses and hugs and Paige greeted me with a present she bought at the school store - Sylvester the cat saying, "Sufferin' Succotash!" She bought it just for me because she knew I'd love it. The mess? The water in the back of my truck? Who cares? Phase in, phase out.
I sat down for a quick dinner - sandwich on wheat = delicious. The kids saw me sitting there and begged for me to get the guitars down, to do crafts, to read a book. I took huge bites of my sandwich, and said, "Let Mommy finish this sangwich and I'll be right there." And they said, "Okay. We're going to get our luggage ready for our trip to Fricago then!"
Their imaginations took them from packing all the essentials, to getting their bus tickets, their plane tickets and their "house" reservations for their trip to Fricago. I listened to their conversations as I ate, and thought of how inspiring their enthusiasm to go to Fricago was. An unknown destination.
My thoughts then went from the ache in my kidneys (infection got them), to thoughts of Jeff, as they do every twenty minutes or so, and I was thrilled with the idea that he now knows the great unknown. The thought filled me with comfort, and I realized that my kids' imaginary Fricago gave me the thought.
I get so frustrated with the mess of my house sometimes, and frustrated with feeling like crap and not having the energy to keep it as clean as I'd like, but then I realize that I wouldn't want my children to be any other way. And when I ask, usually accompanied by a guilt trip or a bribe, they'll help me clean up - as soon as they're done saving the world with their laser-pointing fingers and incredibly muscular arms. When they're working together to get ready for Fricago, when we're all singing and dancing, and laughing together - even if it's only for ten minutes - I realize I too, am getting a piece of the unknown that Jeff is now experiencing. And that is why my faith will not be moved - regardless of the stomach pain, the stinky garbage water, the long day of work and the messy house. That ten minute light extinguishes all the darkness thrown my way.
And I hope Jeff works with the Big Guy to send me a piece of heaven every day, even if I have to go through the mess of getting ready to go to Fricago to see it.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Been Good to Me So Far
Despite the rolling pains in my belly, it was a beautiful weekend. Tony has more energy than any one child should have. He keeps me on my toes, between running out the front door with no shoes and returning with a flower for me, to pulling his pants down to his ankles so that he can pee off the back deck, to wrapping his arms around me and saying "I love you. Baby." Yesterday, I sat on my neighbors porch and sipped a Bud Light, and watched Tony drive his hand-me-down motorcycle. When the battery was depleted, he got his Lightning McQueen car. When that battery was depleted, he pulled out the John Deere tractor he used to drive around when he was two. His knees were over the steering wheel and he moved about as fast as a turtle, chugging his way to the neighbors' house. After that, he got in Paige's cute little Ford F-150 and drove around. My driveway was filled with these toy trucks, and not one of them had any juice in the batteries left. This lasted about two hours. Paige, in the meantime, was making experiments with her friend MacKenzie, who happens to be just two months older, and lives right next door. How awesome is that?
The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and my lawn mower is trashed. Flat tires, no battery... so, I didn't have to mow. I told my neighbors that I was going to see if I could be the hick neighbor and have a field. Without missing a beat, my neighbor said, "Let's have a competition. I'll let my lawn grow too." Nah, I can't do that. I truly look forward to mowing the lawn this summer. I know it will be sunshine, Springsteen in my ear and a whole lot of good thoughts. It is simply impossible to stay down when the sun is shining like it has been.
"Let the beauty of what you love, be what you do." I watched Tony doing what he loved. I watched Paige doing what she loved. And it was beautiful. And that is why sitting on the porch, drinking a beer with my friends and watching them is what I did.
Life really is good when you open your eyes to see it.
The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and my lawn mower is trashed. Flat tires, no battery... so, I didn't have to mow. I told my neighbors that I was going to see if I could be the hick neighbor and have a field. Without missing a beat, my neighbor said, "Let's have a competition. I'll let my lawn grow too." Nah, I can't do that. I truly look forward to mowing the lawn this summer. I know it will be sunshine, Springsteen in my ear and a whole lot of good thoughts. It is simply impossible to stay down when the sun is shining like it has been.
"Let the beauty of what you love, be what you do." I watched Tony doing what he loved. I watched Paige doing what she loved. And it was beautiful. And that is why sitting on the porch, drinking a beer with my friends and watching them is what I did.
Life really is good when you open your eyes to see it.
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