🔔Jingle🔔

Every jingle, every joyful song…salt to an open wound

stinging…burning…searing pain

Is this the point? Is this the purpose? No…not really

Just go with it! Just enjoy it! ~~~ easy for you to say

How do I convince my mind to think differently?

How do I tell my heart not to feel?

How do I “go with it” without falling apart?

Am I the only one feeling this?

Does everyone “really” enjoy this?

Is this, too, a Masquerade?

Stones

Stones come in many shapes and sizes. Some might be the shape of a heart, so they say. I had a friend that collected “heart-shaped-stones”. To be honest, some had absolutely no shape, but she swore they looked like a heart.

Stones can be rare and expensive; some simply used to hold something up. Who hasn’t etched their name on one or two? Who hasn’t received a stone from a child as a token of a valuable find?

I remember my brother’s grave-stone being placed. His picture was on it. As a young girl, I wasn’t really sure what I was feeling. The “first” big loss in our family…how to handle it? My voice had been muffled already, so I didn’t dare put my two-cents in the matter. Besides, his wife was making all the decisions in a way that spoke louder than words.

Now, it was me, making decisions…fast, furious, with no time to think; with every part of my being desiring to be far, far away from this place. BUT, the burial needed to take place AND the proper “embellishments” had to be ordered. The “cash-register” ringing, ringing, ringing. Every little detail had a price. Goodness, how taxing to an already heinous journey. In the fog of it all, one makes the best decisions attempting to not listen to the sales-pitches and the playing of ones emotions.

Nobody told me that a flat stone would be open to tractor tracks and scrapes. Nobody told me that it would be covered in dirt and mud, more often than I can to think. Nobody told me that the passing of time would make it sink deeper and deeper. NOBODY told me that the sight of this would make my heart hurt, if it were possible, even more than it already hurt.

Somewhere along the way, I decided that Angie’s flat grave-stone had to change. My already taxed emotions just couldn’t handle digging it out, one more time. We looked into a different kind of stone. “Well, of course we can change it – AT A PRICE!” was the response.

Yesterday, her new above-ground-stone was placed! AND this one has a picture on it.

Things that I never thought would be part of my life, are. Things that I would have never thought would bother me, do. Things that I never thought would make it a little easier, exist.

Senseless

Is everything business? Is nothing sacred? That proverbial “used-sales-man” pitch. They sell you a Lamborghini while you drive off in a lemon. My stomach turns, I get angry, my heart aches even more.

Just a thought: Maybe, just maybe…NO SERIOUSLY…”sales-people” at funeral homes and cemeteries need to be better trained on how to handle grieving loved ones (material for another post).

The cemetery – when one is being taken on a “tour” to pick out the “best-spot” for your loved ones resting place (this is just wrong!), it almost seems like it’s a tour of a resort with lots of sales pitches. Gosh-darnit, I HATE IT! It was the day after my daughter took her last breath. All I remember is a buzzing sound in my head and just having to get this done…IT had to get done. Could it had been handled better? I think so!

The cemetery’s website showcases beautiful manicured grounds, while the reality is far, far from it. Was this Photoshop or taken somewhere else? Fake advertising!

I have been “assaulted” with sights that hurt me deeply! Tractor tracts so deep that I wondered if they did wheelies on my daughters site. A deep, deep hole as her site was sinking (which I reported and reported and was told it would be fixed. However, they took so long we ended up fixing it ourselves because I could not stand the site of this anymore). Flowers and decorations thrown away. And, yesterday, her stone was completely covered with mud and her decorations where cast aside.

Am I petty? Am I overly sensitive? I say NOT!

I’ve been so upset that I’ve thought of taking a shovel, digging her out and bringing her home. YES!!!!!!!! Kinda, like when you take your kid home cause that’s the only way to protect them. Yes, I sound like a lunatic! At times, I scare myself. But this is my reality. This is what I live with. I believe her remains don’t feel any of this BS, but this Momma’s whole being trembles at such horrific sights. The grave is horrid enough without all this muck!

Venting…Vomiting…BEING REAL…grrrrrrrrrrr!

Constant Change

Thanksgiving week with all the buzz and frenzy. Plans of the perfect table and yummy family recipes. Traditions kept for generations or the start of new ones. And, yes, the stress to make it all picture perfect.

Growing up, we did not celebrate the thanksgiving holiday. Our little village hadn’t been touched by the traditions of the USA. I remember when we came to “el norte”, Mom had no clue what to do with this “bird” that Dad brought home from work. I gift given to all employees on Thanksgiving. We had an over abundance of turkeys because many family members worked at that place. So Mom, in her industrious self, got to work. For Thanksgiving she made turkey-birria and for Christmas she made turkey-tamales. And, so we had a semblance of new found traditions.

As a married woman we had our share of complete leanness to the “enough for everyone to eat”. As my kids got older we decided to build our own traditions with a traditional thanksgiving meal. I don’t know that any one year was the same, but nothing compared to the complete rending of all we knew to be normal.

Last year, our first without our daughter, I sat in a chair staring at my kitchen. No trip to the grocery store in preparation, no marinating the turkey…NOTHING! Not even a desire to move…just frozen in time with a deep, deep sense of loss, and so much pain.

My two men (my husband and son), as usual, gave me space and allowed me to simply “be”. Eventually they went and found a take-out-place that was open and brought home some food. I know I sat at the table, I know I ate, but the numbness gives me no other details.

This year, by God’s grace, I want to attempt to make a traditional meal and have a traditional dinner. My daughter loved, loved the holidays. I want to honor her memory by making things a bit normal for our family. And, I want to convey to my remaining family, that they are loved, too.

What will happen, remains to be seen. BUT I, at least, have the desire to want to move forward. And, that is enough for today.

How have things changed for you? I’d love to hear your stories ❤