Tag: pain

The Family Tree

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away there was a Tree, and although it wasn’t a unique Tree, it inspired respect and admiration. The Tree was beautiful to behold. It stood tall in the midst…sturdy and stunning. Lots of branches and foliage covered the trunk. Oh, the oohs and aahs it inspired.

The passage of time with its multitude of storms, beat that Tree mercilessly. “Today” it stands barely recognizable. I dare say, some may even disdain its memory.

Some of its branches never made it to maturity. Others held on until illness, disappearance, unknown causes or even their own doing cut them off. Those that remain, well…they simply remain.

Time has a way of unearthing great treasures or stripping away facades. That outward beauty hid many parasites that were eating away from within. And, try as we may to keep the semblance of this great, big, beautiful Tree intact, at some point, it is impossible.

Another branch is cut off…death’s blade strikes again. Few remain. Each with their own regrets. Each wondering what is next. And, so a tattered legacy continues…

Storm in May

Look up in the sky! Can you see them? Can you feel the rumble? Dark ominous clouds are approaching. There’s a frigid chill in the air. It’s a-comin! No way to stop it. Preparations are in full effect. However, the storm’s unpredictability is a huge factor. And, although it’s intensity and force cannot be gauged, it’s good to prepare.

May is here!

May is the month my daughter went to heaven. Another anniversary is approaching. The passing of time continues. Although, this will be the second year marker, I’m learning that these dates can be so unpredictable. I remember My Grieving Friend sharing with me her journey in the land of a bereaved mother. Such a gift to me. She’s twenty years into her journey. She said, “each year is so different”.

And, so we are “preparing”…as much as we know how. Flexibility is the name of the game. The day will come and it will go. One day doesn’t make the grief worse or less. It’s another second without ANGIE. The longing to hold her will continue until the day I hold her once again.

Scars (poem)

〉〉〉  S – C – A – R – S  〈〈〈

each with a story of it’s own

joyful & traumatic –  bitter & sweet

visible & invisible – physical & emotional

other inflicted & self inflicted

by strangers, by loved ones, by self

〉〉〉  S – C – A – R – S  〈〈〈

some repulse, others bring a smile

stories of heroism, stories of survival

freely spoken, cautiously guarded, safely hidden

〉〉〉  Scars are part of LIVING  〈〈〈

Mourning

Mourning began the day of your diagnosis, and so it went…

your body, your face…changing before my eyes. somber faces all around, unable to tell me what I “knew” was coming…BUT had no idea the train wreck it would be.

oh, there was laughter and glimmers of hope, BUT  sorrow and grief were waiting at the door. Ah, the tsunami that would soon engulf me…no way to prepare.

your body, a shell of what it had been. your face, tiny, ashy. your eyes, sunken, shut. your mouth…no more sounds. how? why? ugh!!!

Mourning continued…BUT, oh what awaited, who can prepare?!?!

cold, horridly cold…a shiver shaking my body…that hasn’t stopped

relentless reel playing over and over…your little body placed in a bag. a dark, cold van. a white box – why?!?! how is this even possible?

AND then the inevitable. You know it’s coming, BUT…

the white box, that contains your earthly shell – so precious – is lowered, covered AND you are forever GONE!!!

Unraveled! Undone! Short Circuited! Forever Changed!

Almost twenty-three months…mourning continues…

it will continue until the day we are together, AGAIN ❤

Unwelcome Friend

Ah, my unwelcome friend, you’re back!

Your unannounced visits can be so aggravating,

the length of your stay unknown.

The continual task of learning to welcome you, to embrace your presence

can be exhausting and debilitating.

Your mysterious character unravels me

I don’t understand you! I can’t figure you out! I can’t defeat you!

Accepting your presence; embracing your constant companionship

…is…well…healthier…I guess…

Dare I ask that your visits be less often? shorter? or none at all?

AND, so, I sit with you, my unwelcome friend…

in acceptance and surrender

learning to simply be…

A Step Forward

The thought. The decision. The plan. Support in place. The day had come, unannounced and without fanfare. No spiral. No fight. I guess, somehow, she knew it was time. Resolute and steady.

The walk, eternally long, even thought it was only a few steps away. Legs soft as wet noodles, yet heavy as lead. Standing before a sacred place, surrounded by love and support. In an instant her mind flooded with memories – laughs. giggles. good nights. good mornings. hugs. smiles. love —– screams. tears. pain. sorrow. grief…GOODBYE!

Prayer – Deep breath – Prayer – Deep breath

“I CAN’T! Yes, it’s time. This doesn’t keep her alive. She is not here. You are not forgetting her. BUT…I can’t! Yes, it’s time. BUT…“, the tumultuous thoughts flooded her mind. Surrender. Acceptance. Shoulders down. Clenched hands released. Slow and Steady, the process began.

The soft blue blanket, that she loved to curl with. The teddy bear she tenderly clung to. The shirt that draped her little torso. The pillow, where her little head laid; where tears and sweat drenched it’s every inch. Piece by piece…tearing at my heart. WAIT?!?! How does something that has been obliterated into pieces, break even more? Oh, the mystery of LOVE.

And, so, the bed that held her frail, little body; where she was ushered from this life to the next, was stripped of its garments…two months short of the anniversary of the second year of her departure…Another marker…Another step. Propelled and held by love and acceptance. Oh, the mystery of LOVE.

~ winter has passed ~

⇒♦♦for now♦♦⇐

It’s Me :)

Howdy y’all 🙂

Checking in. Wondering who’s still “following”. Desiring to keep writing freely. It’s been down right brutal around here. I’ve taken my therapist’s advise to just “surrender” and let the waves “hit” until they pass, but man this has been a tsunami-type episode. The thoughts of ending it all have been fast and furious. Soooooooo, grateful for the amazing grace of God and the unconditional love of my family.

I’ve been “out” most of the time. Yes, the nightmares don’t stop, but somehow sleeping gives me some relief.

AND SO, we continue to walk; to limp; to crawl or to be splattered on this journey of life. Until God calls me home – I type it, accept it and pray for endurance beyond my human ability. Hope to have you along 🙂

Flooded at the Sink

Standing over the kitchen sink, dinner in the making. Waves and waves of thoughts flowing through her mind…does that reel ever stop? The memory of her little girl bouncing in, always wanting to help Momma. “What-chu making?”, was the question of the hour. Mom would answer, “Pos, food.” Giggles and rolling of the eyes would follow. Suddenly these precious memories are dampened by the memories of her own childhood.

For The Runaway, Junior High doesn’t bring cherished memories, however, Home-ec class yielded some good results. Learning to make spaghetti sauce and cinnamon rolls was a tasty experience. Recipes that are still in practice today.

Ah, yes, the day she learned to make spaghetti sauce was a memorable one. She came home so excited, ready to share this amazing accomplishment (at least she thought so) with her mother. Let’s just say there were no pats-on-the-back or words of affirmation.

Somewhere along the way, mother, begrudgingly decided to let her make this “foreign cuisine”. Oh, how excited The Runaway was! She knew they would like it. Mother bought her all the necessary ingredients and off she went into full mode cooking gear. Mother’s frown and side looks could not dissuade her. However, even though Mother agreed to her cooking this meal, mother still made the regular dinner, cause “who would eat that porquería”.

Let’s just say Dad liked it, a lot. No, he wasn’t like A Father building his daughter up. But, after careful inspection, he scarfed-it down. And, as time went, he would ask Mother to buy the necessary ingredients for his daughter to make this foreign dish.

And so went the wave of memories. Always a mixture of emotions.

Dinner is finished…let’s go eat 🙂

Grief Group

She decided it was time. One day short of twenty-one months. Tic-Toc, Tic-Toc…can you hear time churning? Thankful for a peaceful commute, and a settled mind focusing on navigating directions. It’s here! Deep breath, prayer…more breathing…let’s go!

Two women buzzing around. Do they see me? No smile, no hello…wait, am I at The Writer’s Club? Deep breath…just stay; fight the urge to run out. “Oh, wait, another women just arrived. She’s too bubbly to be here”, was her immediate thought. This is so painfully awkward. Being an Introvert makes the silence worse. And, so began a grueling two hour ordeal…

“What am I trying to prove? Who am I trying to impress? Why put myself in a torturous situation? Do I not hurt enough? How is it that my mindset is so skewed, so jumbled? I HATE THIS!!!”, and so went an onslaught of chaotic waves of thought, upon thought, upon thought.

There were times I thought, “Yes, the Plastic Faces are coming off!” NOT! Only a glimpse was allowed before the masks were securely fasten, back into place…let’s continue the masquerade.

“Why? What are we afraid of? Is reality so difficult, I’d rather live a lie? Do I not want to be open and vulnerable because of fear? Fear of judgment; fear of being misunderstood; fear of what?”, waves and waves of punches of the mind.

Someone decides to vomit; to splatter all she has been holding onto; to open the gates of her mind in a relentless way. The vent up guilt, trauma flowing. The wrestling with what she thought she knew, which pales in comparison to what is happening to her day after day. She doesn’t shut up! She keeps going! Only to get cliches and pat answers. GRRRR!!!

As I am in my chair, shaking uncontrollably! Being horribly triggered by the rawness of this woman. “Run! Go! Escape! Make her shut up! Why is she saying that? I can’t hear this anymore!”, thoughts that came into the spiraling mind. With the added guilt of not being compassionate enough. However, how do I help her out when I’m in my own spiral?

Home now. “How did I get home? What happened?” Unceasing crying and screaming with tumultuous spasms ensue. Beating myself up for not knowing better; for going, too soon; for not being in control.

Finally safe, curled up in a ball…spaced out, exhausted…sleep is welcomed. BUT the nightmares and images assailed my already beat-up soul. And, so, goes my journey with grief…an unwelcomed companion.

Yeah, I’m thinking it wasn’t time – for this :-\