Last Night I Cried

Maybe it was because it was 3:30 in the morning... (what was I doing up that late?)

Maybe it was because of who I was talking to... (what was I doing talking to him?)

Maybe it was because of what we were talking about... (why were we talking about that?)

Maybe it was because I was tired... (I should have been sleeping.)

Maybe it was because sometimes life is hard and we just need to have a good cry before we can gather ourselves up and keep going... (I have a lot to gather)

Whatever the reason.... I feel better today. (For the moment that is.)

Letter on a Balloon

Dear Dad ~

I really miss you.
I wish the bad guy is dead. Because you didn't deserve to.
I love you dad.
I am in karate.
I wish you were back alive.

Why She Watches

You see it all the time in the movies. Usually a woman, sometimes a man, and occasionally a child, but usually a woman. She sits there, in a dark room, curled up into the corner of the couch, perhaps a blanket covering her legs. The remote in hand. You can see flickering of lights around the room to let you know she's watch something on the television. Home movies of someone, perhaps her spouse, a friend, a parent, God forbid a child, that has passed away.

She watches because she misses them. She watches to relive. She watches to remember. She watches so she won't forget.

Why haven't I been able to allow myself to sit quietly, in my darkened living room, curled up in a corner of my couch, with a blanket covering my legs, holding my remote, watching home movies of my late spouse?

Maybe it only happens like that in the movies.... ???

Let's Pretend

Let's pretend, for just a moment, shall we?

The alarm goes off, beeping that insanely annoying EH- EH- EH- EH. I let out a groan, bury my face in the pillow and stick my right arm out to slap the snooze button. Is it morning already? I groan again, before realising there is movement beside me... slowly you wrap your arm around my waist and rolling me over onto my side you pull me into you. And there, wrapped up in your arms, a smile creeps across my lips, and suddenly I'm glad to be awake...

What I know....

You know what the worst part about being me is? Knowing myself better than anyone else… Knowing what I will and will not do.

Other people believe in me. Other people believe that I will make the right choice... And I know; I won’t.

Other people believe that I will let go and move on one day... And I know; I won’t.

Other people think I just need time. And I know; time has nothing to do with it.

Other people think I will walk away when I’m ready; and I know if nothing changes, then no, I won’t.

As long as he keeps feeding me just enough to stay, I’ll never go. I’ll forever be trapped in this land of mediocrity. Of wanting more. Craving more. KNOWING I deserve more. (Oh yes, I know it. I do. I REALLY do.) But I only want it from him.

And I know, if he chooses to keep me here for another 20 years; I will stay. I will stay and constantly hunger for more from him. I will stay and constantly doubt my worth to him. I will stay and secretly tell myself that one day he will see. One day he will realize. One day he will want; ME…

I know me and I know I’ll stay… and hope.

The soldier

There are days when I want to give into it all... Days that I want to be a girl. Days that I want to be weak, and fragile, and vulnerable. Days that I want to curl up at his feet and let him be the man and take care of it all for me.... Days that I want him to hold my world together for 5 minutes so I can breathe.... There are days that I want to love him so deeply and passionately and in ways that to truly understand must be felt first hand. There are days that I am beating on my walls to let me out so I can give, so I can play, so I can be free.... There are days that I WANT to have hope. Days that I WANT to believe it's possible. Days that this girl inside me begs to be fed her dreams......

But there is a soldier that stands guard outside those walls.....

No Worries.... So it seems....

So I got no complaints. No worries. No real troubles on my mind. Life seems pretty good. Don’t get me wrong I have the basic, everyday frustrations; scheduling everything to fit, laundry, cleaning, getting the kiddo fed, karate, homework, etc… But no REAL worries.

And yet…. I know it’s there. Lurking just below the surface. Thick, boiling, goopy, smelly. It’s there. I’ve plunged my arms elbow deep into my very core and cleaned and scooped, and processed so many nasty horrible feelings and it’s taken me a long time to get that all cleared out, and with it gone I feel so light, and breezy, and… happy. But it’s all on the surface…

There’s more… And I can’t seem to reach it. I want to. I’m ready. I’d give anything to tap into this deeper hurt and pain and anger. I know it’s there. I just can’t get to it…

It’s more than my husband being gone. It’s more than the ongoing court process. It’s more than bills, and men, and disabilities. It’s more than work, and friends, and family. It’s more than diseases, and the failing health of loved ones. It’s MORE than anything I’ve faced in the past.

How can I get to it? How can I break through the surface? I’m ready. I’m willing to do the work. I just need to know what it is that I’m working on….

I try to enjoy the light, airy, easy going life but it’s like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m waiting for the black clouds in the distance to roll in. I’m waiting for the earth to rumble and the volcano to erupt.

I’m enjoying it, but am doing so with caution… The LAST thing I want is to be blissfully skipping along and then without ANY warning to get completely blindsided, and immersed in something I have no idea how to get out of….

What I'm supposed to be doing.....

Remember when you were a child and your mother would catch you doing something bad. Not really bad but not great either, like peaking under the bathroom stall, or touching something you were told not to, stuff like that, and your mother would say "Are you supposed to be doing that?" To which you would sheepishly reply, "no".

Well here it is, the night before a court hearing. I'm supposed to have picked out what I would be wearing. Something with the color red because all the "experts" say wearing red makes you feel more confident. I should have my shoes picked out, and what pants I'm gonna wear. I should have had my shower by now, so tomorrow morning I would only have to worry about styling my hair. I should be sleeping soundly so I won't show up looking tired, exhausted, drained, emotionally spent.

Am I supposed to be up blogging? "no". But so many things are running through my head. What will the judge say? Will he grant another evaluation? Will he say there have been enough already? Will the charges get put on hold? Will the attorney General agree to commit him civilly? Will immigration come in and deport him back to Mexico where he can drink beer on the beach? Will he look in my eyes again? Will he show me his cocky little smirk?

Well, I'm going to worry about what I'll wear tomorrow, I'll shower before I go, pull my hair into a wet bun, no make up as that will all get cried off anyway, drink lots and lots of coffee, breathe, and hand the rest over to the universe. That's all I can do right?

I long for the day that this is over. I want to visit my husbands grave in Mexico, but when I do I want to be able to tell him that the SOB has been put away. Justice been served. His death avenged. Because that is what is supposed to happen right? Our justice system is supposed to punish wrong doers.

How can I be mad at the justice system for not doing what it is supposed to be doing, when I myself am not either...........

Music

Some things are said in a song, that could never be said otherwise....

Some things are only understood when heard with music...

Sometimes, a song breaks through the walls around your heart and you end up a blubbering mess......

Those are my favorite songs

What do you want MOST in the whole world?

That question to an average person might get met with a response of "world peace" "cure for AIDS" "cure for cancer" "a million dollars" "so-and-so to fall in love with me" "a new house/car". The list literally could go on and on.

Two days ago my son, Logan, came in my room looking very sad. He says to me, "mom, I need to show you something." It was his drum set that the neighbor kids came over and broke the day before. I told him, "well maybe mom can buy you a new one." Only a kid beyond his years could come back with "but, that will cost lots and lots of money."

Now my brother, a truck driver who's heart is as big as China, feels terrible for my son. He tells him, in a really exciting voice, "When I come back in town I'm gonna buy you WHAT EVER YOU WANT. So think about what you want MOST in the WHOLE wide world and Uncle Jake is gonna buy that for you, ok?"

I see it coming... I pray that my son is still sad about the drum set and will hurridly say, "I want a new drum set!" No such luck. I watch my little sons face look at his uncle with the most angry/are you retarded look, and yells "I WANT MY DAD! BUT HE'S DEAD! THAT BAD GUY SHOT HIM! AND HE'S NEVER COMING BACK!"

My heart sinks..... Logan walks into my closet to hide behind the clothes, his place where he likes to go when he wants to be alone. My brother looking at me stunned, didn't quite understand everything that my little boy had just yelled at him. (Due to his autism he doesn't talk like a normal 5 yr old.) Needless to say that wasn't the reaction he had imagined. After I relayed to him what my son had said, he felt horrible. Tried to explain to his heart broken nephew that he would buy him what ever he wanted from the STORE. That he couldn't bring his dad back, but one day maybe he will get to see him again.

Now, God is a subject that doesn't get discussed. Especially to a little boy with autism that has a hard time understanding reality. My brother, trying to bring comfort to him is trying to explain that one day we will all be together again.... But in Logan's world, his dad is "bones in the ground" and not coming back. So he tells my brother to "leave me alone. You are ruining my thinking."

I can only imagine what is going through my little man's mind..... He watches his dad get killed, he knows something bad happened, tries to understand in his little mind what death is, and the finality of it, then along comes Uncle Jake telling him, one day he's gonna see him again.

My heart aches...... So what do I want most in the whole world? I want what my son wants....

Its coming...........

It's a week away.......... It makes me sick to my stomach......... It makes me want to stay in bed and sleep for 13 hours (as I did today)........... It makes me want to push everyone away from me (including my son)............ It sucks the life out of me........... It crushes the light in my spirit........ It drains my energy.......... It leaves me blank and empty............ It brings intense anxiety........ It brings horrible flashbacks...... It summons the hatred I have deep inside me..... It leaves me with barely enough patience to remain calm in the simplest of situations......... It lowers a 500lb weight onto my chest........ It reminds me of the cruelest realities........ It disrupts my dreams........ It reminds me I'm alone.........

You Let Her Go....

You let her go. You let go of the one woman that would have given you anything. The one woman that would have moved heaven and earth for you. You let go of the woman who loved you because of your faults and your shortcomings.

She loved you through the bad moods, through the hard times. She loved you while you went on with your life and only let her in when it was convenient for you. She loved you more than ever, when you held her. She loved you at night when she went to sleep and loved you more the next day when she awoke.

She loved you because you weren't perfect. She loved you because you made mistakes, because you were stubborn. She loved you because she seen it in you. She seen your strength. She seen your dedication, and conviction, and she seen the hurt in your eyes. She loved you because you are fearless. She loved you because you were loyal, to a point. She loved you because you knew when to keep your mouth shut. She even loved you when you said the wrong things. She loved you because you made her feel special. She loved you because you made her feel safe.

She loved you because you showed her what it was to make love to someone. She loved you because she could see the effort you would make to express your feelings to her. She loved you because she saw how you wanted to please her. She loved you because even though you couldn't give her everything, you still wanted to. She loved to make you happy. She loved to give to you.

She loved you because you gave her a safe place to fall, and then reminded her she needed to get back up again. She loved you because you helped heal a part of her heart she thought was un-mendable. She loved you so much that she wanted to grow and heal because of you. She loved you because she allowed you to see her vulnerabilities. She loved you because you listened to her dreams, her fears, her insecurities. She loved you because she could vent about her day to you, and you could vent about yours to her. She loved you because she could share a beer with you in silence, and it not be awkward.

She loved you because you inspired her. She loved your smell. She loved your touch. She loved the sound of your voice. She loved your goofy laugh. She loved watching your favorite TV programs with you. She loved to see you smile. She loved the way you looked at her. She loved the way you touched her with gentleness. She loved those feather soft kisses you would leave on her collar bone. She loved to lie in your arms and listen to your heartbeat, realizing not only were your hearts in sync but your breathing was also.

She loved standing out in the summer nights with your arms around her, saying nothing. She loved the horseplay. She loved the fights but loved making up more. She loved the way her heart skipped a beat when you emailed her. She loved the warm fuzzies she got when you gave her a compliment. She loved that she didn’t need to be embarrassed by certain things with you. And that you actually welcomed those things. She loved coming to work and sneaking looks in your direction. She loved it even more when you were looking back at her. She loved the way you brushed her hair from her face and kissed her forehead.

She loved that she could express all the different sides to her personality with you. She loved you because she could be gangsta with you and you would be gangsta back. She could talk about life with you and you would understand and not tune her out. She loved you because not only could you encourage her, but she got to encourage you. She loved you because of the support you gave her.

She watched you grow into a better man. She watched you change for the better. She watched you try.

She watched you, and she loved you, and now she will learn to love herself more.

Thank you for letting her go.

Who's pain is worse?

Whose pain is worse?
I lost my husband after only 15 months; He lost his wife after 45 years.
He lived his dreams and now he has a lifetime of memories;
I did not have time to make my dreams come true and the memories are far to few.

And yet...I am still young independent and will one day dream again;
He is older now and was dependent on her, and his nitemare of loneliness has just begun.
Who will take care of him now?

Whose pain is worse?

My husband and I did not have time to start a family:

She was left with three sons.

Her husband lives on in the face of his children: mine only lives on in my heart.

She has people with whom she can share memories: I am all alone.

And yet...I have time to grieve for myself and to heal:

She must now support her sons, both physically and emotionally.

When will she have time to grieve?

My husband was taken from me without warning.

She knew for nine months that her son was dying.

She had the opportunity for one last hug, one last kiss, one last "good-bye".

I never had a chance for a final word,

a final embrace,

a final "I love you".

And yet....I know my husband did not suffer long and lived the life he wanted;

But she watched her once strong, active son weaken and wither.

As he was robbed of his strength, hopes and dreams.

How does she feel now?

Whose pain is worse?

I was there when my husband died;

she was on vacation when her father died.

She did not have to hear the sirens;

she did not see what I saw.

She did not stand by helplessly as doctors struggled to bring back life.

And yet...I know I did what I could do to save my husband

And I was with him at the end;

She doesn't know how long her father suffered alone

Or if he cried out her name.

Or if things would have been different

If she was at home.

How much does she blame herself?

Whose pain is worse?

To me, mine is worse, to you, yours is worse.

But why do we compare?

I'm hurting and so are you.

Please allow me to have my pain and I will allow you to have yours.

Let me voice my anger and you can voice yours.

Let me release my guilt and you can release yours.

Let me cry on your shoulder and you can cry on mine.

Let me have my grief and I will let you have yours.

And then, one day, let us smile and hug and thank each other for being there.

Whose pain is worse?

Does it really matter?

By Mary Ann Golomb

Who is stronger?

A friend of mine recently wrote a blog about where the line gets drawn. And it got me thinking about a conversation I had with a friend of mine. We were discussing my being widowed, and his mother being widowed when he was just a boy of 9.

He talked to his mother later that night. He said he wanted to thank her for all the sacrafices she made for him. She asked what brought that on, and he told her about me. She went on to tell him, that he can learn a lot from me and the strength and courage I have. She told him how strong I was to have my husband murdered and then continue to raise him on my own.

You see, when her husband died, she remarried within a year. She remarried quickly to have someone to take care of him, to provide for her son. Her new husband turned out to be very abusive. But she stayed with him through the years. Staying with him through the physical emotional, and verbal abuse. All the while doing it for her son. She had no other way to provide for him. (mind you this was a LONG time ago) She endured this for her boy.

So she says I'm the strong one. She says that I have the courage to go down this road alone. That I am doing what it takes to take care of an autistic child without turning to a man to provide for me.

I said she must be stronger than I to have stayed and endured so much abuse for so long. It really wasn't an option for me to not introduce my son to the men I have in my life. He has social anxiety. Meeting new people is very scarey for him. And since he witnessed his dad's murder, he has a hard time being around men. It takes him months to warm up to the point of talking to them. So why would I put my child through that......

She sees so much strength in me for not turning to a man. And i see so much strength in her for suffering for so long so that her child could be taken care of.

Even though we both only see ourselves as doing what is best for our child, we both see ourselves as the weaker person. Me because I wouldn't have to strugle as I do financially if I found someone to take care of us. Because I run from my grief. Because I have self destructing habits. (none of which my child witnesses) Her because, she thinks she took the easy way out. Finding the first person willing to take them both in.

Its really just the way you look at it. How you percieve things... It matters not what anyone else thinks or says or praises or criticizes you on. What matters is that at the end of the day you feel good about what you are doing for yourself, for the ones you love, you are doing whats best in your life..... Not necessarily what's best in someone elses life.....

My hole.................

It's that time again. Time for me to find my hole. I usually do it about every six months. Usually April and Oct. This year I passed on my solo trip and took my boy to disneyland with the family. Not really solo time. Actually there wasn't any solo time. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I haven't even been back a month. BLAH.

So, tonight I start looking for a warmer destination to maybe take a solo trip a quick one.