Broken

It's the broken
ones
that
heal
the world.

Mr. Big

Well hello..
Mr. Big..
Mr. Wonderful.
Mr. Emotionally Unavailable.
Mr. I am not sure how to feel.
Listen closely....
Do you hear it?
That's the sound of me
not loving you
anymore.
How'd that feel?

She is...

She is...

She is strong.

Stronger than anyone I have ever known.

She is cigarettes and coffee..and hairspray.

She is beauty...

She is Chanel No. 5.

She is young

She is old...

Mistakes..and triumphs..

She is children and family.

She is a sister

and a daughter.

She is laughter..

my God she is laughter..

She loves me and my

two children.

She is safe.

Blocking out the world..

from all of my mistakes.

Accepting me

as I am

Loving me

regardless.

She is late night..

early morning calls..

of help and advice.

Acceptance.

No matter what.

She is Christmas.

She loves my children

probably more than she loves me...

And I love that.

She is quilts...and sewing

She is strength.

She endures.

She stands up for me ..

when no one else does.

She is unconditional.

She is a beautiful young woman...

a mother

going through life..

and here we are..

She is a grandmother...

She is strength

and endurance

And when I look

in the

mirror

I see

a little

bit of

her..

And I understand

As a mother

As a sister

As a daughter..

I now understand the struggle.

I am proud.

I understand.

I am her daughter.

She is...

My Mother.

Not Yours

I have just now had the realization

that this is my town

not yours

my town

my ghosts that haunt me

on these streets

walks at night

first kisses in the snow

fast cars

staying out past curfew

first loves

Jr. High

High School

and all that goes with it

heartaches and triumphs

my town

not yours

these streets hold my memories

my childhood

my secrets

not yours.

Skinned knees

Skinned hearts

this is where I found myself

found myself

lost myself

ghosts of betrayal

and affairs

marriages ending

motorcycle rides in the rain

Christmas's

Birthday's

kisses in the dark

this is my town

not yours

I grew up here

my children grew up here.

you

you showed up here

long after the fact

Long after.

Those are my memories

imprinted on the

brick covered streets

The leaves in the fall

They hold my secrets

not yours

Not your streets

Not your leaves

Not your secrets

Not your town....

Strong enough

What came first the chicken or the egg? What you think about grows. And so I struggle to figure it out... Did my constant worrying this would happen.. cause the outcome? or is it something that was written long ago something I had no control over? Something destined. Ever since he was young I would watch him and have that fear what if what if he chose that path? It was my worst fear.. crept into my head right before I would fall asleep. Please God...not him..not me. Such pride and admiration for those who do.. but I am not strong enough. As he grew I could see it coming.. Was it irrational.. or was it a knowing a mothers' intuition. Either way The outcome is still the same whether it was my worst fear that I manifested myself or something God was trying to prepare me for.. again either way my son is going to fight a war on the other side of the world and I am filled with fear and pride. It's time. It's here. Ready or not.. it is here. The funny thing is.. I am ready I am at peace with it. He is no longer the little boy I raised.. He is a man now. Full of honor and courage.. with the heart of lion.. and now the very least I can do is square my shoulders raise my head up face the fear head on support him.... and know He is leaving to do what he was destined to do. And I...I am strong enough.

Stops my heart

For years I have tried to figure it out..what was it with you..why the connection?  After all this time I have come to the conclusion it is your voice...I am sure I have heard it before...somewhere from long before....from another life..another time...centuries ago...but I recognize it...and even now..years later....when I hear it....for an instant it still stops my heart.

In the moment

Believe people when they tell you to live in the moment...things that didn't seem enough at the time..that left me wanting more...I would give almost anything to have them back now.

some days

Some days without you are easier than others.

Myself

It's a lot harder loving myself when I already know all of my secrets.

remember

Sometimes it is hard to
remember
what is was like
to
be
me.

Regret

Little scraps of paper,
phone numbers,
addresses,
email addresses...
shoved into pockets
books
old letters
things you should have said
things you wish you would have said
had the courage to say...
calls you should have made.
People you should have loved.
Those are the things that would have
saved you
from feeling this way.
Saved you from this regret.

The Circle

It is the day after her birthday and today I will go there. I should have went there yesterday on the actual day..but life had kept me from death. Today there will be no avoiding it. No appointments to keep..no excuses. In thinking of going there..placing the flowers near the headstone...I would like some supernatural experience to occur. Her voice..a vision..some kind of sign to reassure me. But I know life well enough to realize that it will not happen. That feeling will have to come from within me. All the gifts she had to give..I have already received.

No more to come.

Now it is up to me..up to me to take it all..laughter, tears, sparkles, giggles, courage, dignity, grace and love...take it all. Line it up in order of importance and do something with it.

Make it count.

I think that is where the fear comes in. I no longer have her physical example. Now it is up to me. Most days I do not feel worthy of the challenge. But it is a promise I made..to carry her with me all the days of my life.

So I will make the drive, place the flowers on the stone, feel the finality of her. Remembering less than a year ago when I drove her to the exact spot...with an armful of flowers for her to place..near the ones she had loved and lost. Sharing her pain then and now. Seeing that she and I aren't really that different after all. Turns out the woman I placed in the highest regard was the same as me. A soul struggling through life..a mother, sister, daughter, friend, wife..with everyday problems.

In performing the act today the gift I will receive is the illumination of the circle we have performed..seeing that my destiny must be that someone will one day make the journey there with an armful of flowers for me, to lay next to her and I. It is my hope that when their tears slide down their face onto their lips and finally to the ground..that they will be as mine..tears full of gratitude for the beautiful soul and the gifts we receive.

Unforgiven

Recently I have been told that I need to forgive a betrayal.

I don't know how.

This is a letter I wrote and never sent. Things are different now...I have found joy again and hope..mostly due to my husband. I have my fairytale now..finally..but at the time when this was written I couldn't see it. I know now that in trusting people you risk being hurt and in the end it is really worth it..but at the time I wrote this I didn't see it. I see it now.. and it would probably serve me best to forgive...but still I am afraid...unforgiven...even when they put me in the ground.

When I heard your voice on the phone today it was different. We have not spoke much since the divorce and when we have it has been short for the most part, guarded and from my end...full of venom.
My venom comes from anger and hurt but some days it is hard to distinguish whether it is you or myself that it is directed towards.
There was a strange comfort from the words today. To be able to talk about our children..share stories..and laugh with a knowing and understanding. Something I haven't experienced in a very long time. There is no one else to share those stories with these days. With others I worry it sounds like bragging. But as comforting as that was there were other moments that reminded me of why I usually keep my guard up. Moments when you were talking about something as mundane as insurance and the words residual and leftover came out of your mouth and I caught myself recoiling from the phone..wincing. Instantly I thought of myself and how you made me feel residual and leftover. I never really identified that till today..I have correctly identified many other feelings but I guess I missed that one. Being leftover. I think I felt like that way before the affair..or at least that one. Your behavior had a strange effect on me...the indifference and the controlling..not enough love or attention to make me think you cared but enough control to make me feel inadequate. Deep down I knew I was good enough..that you were unemotional and manipulating but I also knew that unless I continued to "suck that in" and believe it the end result would be the demise of my family..no more family unit..no mother and father in the same house..no happy family..broken family..split holidays..no united front. Broken family. No family.
I would have done almost anything..in fact I did. It didn't matter. The end result was the same. I was the great martyr for my children. And we are a broken family. No family. I was able to make it last till they were in High School.
High School before they learned there is no such thing as fairy tales. No happily ever after. No happy endings. Before they learned that sometimes the very people you love the most aren't who they say they are. That sometimes the people you share your home with, your life with, trust your very soul with..will offer you up for sacrifice to full fill their own needs.
Sometimes those people will betray you so greatly that it changes you so much..it is hard to remember who you were before that cold October night when the fairytale ended.
Sometimes I remember a few things..something will trigger a memory..like a while back I found a photo of when we were young. I was in the in the bed with the cat..asleep when you took the picture and I noticed my arms raised above my head and I was lying on my back. I had forgotten that is how I use to sleep. It has been 5 years since I have slept like that. Now I sleep (when I do) on my side..fetal position..my hands curled up in fists so tight that often it is midday before they stop tingling. Curled up and guarding myself...even in my sleep..against the enemy. Now I am prepared for the next time.
So I guess after all that I have come to the realization that I am as I said in the beginning more angry at myself than you. I should have never taught my children to trust, never. There are no happily ever afters..so if you never trust anyone you can never be disappointed. This is what I should have taught them. If they had never believed they would have never been hurt..if they had known from the beginning..much like our almost grandchild..he has that lesson ingrained in him already..that sometimes husbands, wives, daddy's and in his sweet little innocent self..sometimes even mommy's will serve you up on a silver platter if it gets them what they want.
I do find it so ironic though, as you struggle with becoming more emotional, more loving and selfless..I have become so cynical and jaded. I used to think that we struggle through the days and that good would prevail. That is not the case anymore. I struggle through just trying to survive it and then I realize ..we don't even survive it..after all that..a lifetime of pain, suffering and disappointment, we die anyway. Ironic again.
There are moments when I wish I were in your shoes..you have the change to look forward to..to have emotions and feelings..hope and joy. My change has already come. I started at the other end of the spectrum. I had all those feelings and emotions and in the end it has been my undoing. The only ones I have left now are anger, sadness and regret. I am glad you are going to counseling and that you shared your feelings with me. Although I don't sleep for more that a few hours at a time either, there is no counseling for me. I am all counseled out. I do not take pleasure in your pain but I do take comfort in the fact that what you have done bothers you. Even though you were unemotional I could not fathom causing that kind of devastation and walking away unaffected. So that helps me to know that maybe not everything was a deception. That maybe I didn't spend twenty years in a lie..but I have a sinking feeling I did.
I hope this helps you understand the venom ..the anger. I do hope you are able to change..for the sake of the kids and yourself. So at least someone will come out of this a better person..but as I am writing this down I see the irony again. You are the person that caused the pain and you are most likely the only one that will come out with a good change..a good result. That figures.
See what I mean? There are no happily ever afters.

The Reasons I love you

This is something I wrote on the day I took my Grandmother to the doctor and found out the cancer she had battled for 15 years had finally moved to her brain. I wanted to make sure she knew exactly how I felt and that I had no regrets ... nothing left unsaid. In the next four weeks before she died we framed it and treasured it. It was read at her funeral.

The Reasons I Love You

Stewed apples .. with red hots

Hot summer afternoons walking down the road .. picking blackberries. You brushing my hair

You scratching my back ... longer than anyone else would

Banana Bread

Coconut Cream Pie

Letting us string up the sheets in your house with clothespins so we could have a "tent"

Standing in the basement with you putting the clothes through the wringer

For not getting mad when I ran through the freshly laundered sheets

Washing our hair in the sink with Prell shampoo

Walking down to the pond and stepping on the snake

For never being too busy for me

Making mud pies in the little tin pie pans

Always having cookies in the cookie jar

For loving my children as much as you do me

Knowing that you would always be there ... no matter what

You playing the organ and me lying under your feet .. feeling the floor vibrate from the music

For commanding the respect of anyone who has ever known you

For letting me put hundreds of bobby pins in your hair and THEN letting me take them OUT!

For being the most unselfish person I have ever met

For being my Goodwitch

Most importantly for being someone I always looked up to and wished I could be half the person you are. For the grace, dignity and strength you carry with you no matter how much adversity life throws your way. I will carry you and all the lessons you have taught me all the days of my life. I love you.

The Passing

The Passing

It was evening and I was alone in the car. Enjoying the time alone when I noticed my hands on the steering wheel had a pink cast to them. A rosy glow. I looked in the mirror and it was in my face too ... filling the whole car. It was almost sunset that in between dusk and night. Once I heard it called the "gloaming" ... that magical time when the whole world has an orange ... pink .. color as night is about to fall. If there is such a thing ... this was it. The sun was huge slipping slowly down over the horizon .. beautiful..but then as if someone tapped me on the shoulder and said "look on the other side" ... I saw it .. the moon was rising directly across from the sun. Silver .. bigger than I had ever seen it. It was as if you reached out you could touch it. It was a harvest moon .. a Friday the 13th and a shiver ran through me. It was a knowing of something to come. Then my thoughts turned to her . .loving thoughts .. smiles .. and so thankful for the extra time I had spent with her lately. It was hard to see her that way but the peace that came with this moment was as if she was in the car with me ... she was the pink glow. I realized the natural world was reading for the event soon to come ... the sunset .. the moon .. a symbol of leaving. Letting one thing go and opening up another. This is it . .it is almost time to say goodbye. I was right.

Death did not come as a thief in the night. She was worthy of more than that. It came on a chariot as if to retrieve and old friend. Take her back to the place where she began. We all know the place ... most of us forget .. but there are times when little pieces of it come back. Church bells on a cold winter day .. your newborn's first cry .. the very first snowflakes ... we feel it .. then we reason it away. But our soul remembers.

It was her time. I knew that. We had talked about it. She was ready. And yet it was surreal. Gathered in the room with her .. sobbing ... knowing we had to let her go .. wanting to let her go .. stop the suffering. It was a strange mix of emotions .. memories .. deep sadness and yet glorious joy. Holidays .. Sunday dinners .. unconditional love .. her laugher. It was all there. The love in the room was so intense you could feel it. She had given each one of us our own gifts .. and as you looked around you could see on every face .. their own memories flooding through their mind. She was the tie that had bound us for so long.

She was the beginning. We all knew that and now she was leaving us.

What a privledge to witness her passing. To be there with her. I am certain nothing will compare to that moment in my life. To watch a soul of that strength slip away. Knowing she was moving on .. to where she was meant to be.

To those of us who were listening we could hear the inaudible voices saying "welcome home Dorothy ... it has been a long time" ....

Until we meet again.

Cloyd

Cloyd is a gentleman I met while at work in a long-term care facility. He was an extraordinary man.

Cloyd

Today is really no different than any other day. I hurry back and forth to finish my work, complete tasks that seem to be never ending. My mind though is somewhere else. I am sure that I will succumb to the troubles in my life and worse the ones in my head. Leaving me thinking how life is hard and it is long and especially in the hours I spend here it is difficult to find the goodness I know must exist but stays hidden from me.

I see him there. He has been there at least a hundred times before. He spends his days up and down these halls searching I think for the same thing that has hidden itself from me. He wheels himself from hall to hall .. room to room .. on the wheels that support him for his legs no longer will. Today though he has found one thing he searches for .. a sunbeam .. a glimmer of the outside. It seems he doesn't even notice the hustle around him ... the beeping ... the people .. the crying and the screams that come from down the hall. This is his home now and it appears most days he has made peace with that. This day I sit with him ... hold his hand and listen. As I do the screaming and the beeping seem to fade. He begins to talk and as I watch him I can see the man he used to be. His hands now are cracked and colored with age .. his hair grey .. his clothes in layers to try to warm him from the chill that cannot be warmed. But his eyes are still young and shine as he begins to tell me of his life before this place. His eyes close now and as he speaks he takes me there. In the town down the street. .. the moment his life started with her. He remembers the day the time and as he continues on I am certain he must see every detail ... a March day brisk..every cloud, every sound still there .. sealed into his memory. Time has taken many things but this moment it will not. Sixty-eight years with her. Eight years without her. With each tear that falls the profoundness of this moment strikes me. All those years ... all that life ... all the troubles that must have come and gone. What he speaks of and aches for most is the love that in an instant slipped away. There in I find the significance of the sunbeam ... the searching.

All those troubles that just minutes ago were holding me down mean nothing now. The place he has taken me to I can see clearly that it is the love of another that sustains us in this place. Not the job .. not the money ... not the battles that come and go but the love.

Inside this sunbeam we share ... I see it ... what he grieves for ... and I search for ... a love that time has stood still for. He speaks of why God cannot take him to be with his love ... and I ... silently thank God for this man and for the lesson I have learned.

He wheels away thanking me for my time and as he goes I know that from time to time I will stand in this place and let the sun shine down on me and remember the day this man shared his soul with me and helped to fill mine.

Remembering

It is after 1:00 am and still no sleep. Sleep is scattered for me now..here and there..always better in the daylight when there are sounds and distractions for my mind. No distractions now and with the very first snow on the ground I can't believe how the time has passed from that moment. Funny how some moments stick with you and others just fade away. This one I think of daily...flashes in my mind when I least expect it. He is getting ready to leave..able to be home for a rare visit and he is stopping by work to tell me goodbye. This simple act makes me smile because there was a time when I would have to remind him to stop..don't forget to tell me goodbye..don't forget to call me when you get there..but now I do not even have to mention it...it is a given. It is a bittersweet gift... for there was no conversation about it..it was an inaudible shift. We have never spoken of....probably never will..but we have both learned from this process that there is a danger there...a darkness...unspoken but our view of the world is different now. So here he is ..getting ready to go back to a place I have never seen...half way across the country....where there are gates...and fences..and secrets I will probably never know. It is hot and he pulls up..top off the Jeep..beautiful day..telling me goodbye...pulls his shirt off to enjoy the sun..and I smile to myself remembering him as a little boy..pulling his shirt off..because his Uncle had done the same..following in his every step....and now a grown man stands before me..full of strength and honor..confidence..no longer that little boy. I almost forgot to ask you..for your birthday...I was thinking of getting you a digital camera..would you like that? That would be perfect..so I will have it to take to Iraq.. he says. Darkness. And I think if I can just not cry until he pulls away..don't let him see you cry. Even with the bright hot sun shining down...I feel that darkness...where that shift came from...a kiss...he tells me he loves me...steps up into the Jeep...my pride in him is only matched by my fear..but no tears until he is out of sight...and I pray... keep him safe...out of the darkness.

The glasses

The feeling has been manifesting for weeks..I couldn't put my finger on it. A little lost..a lot lost...unnerved. Where was this coming from? I had made sure they had what they needed. Picturesque campus for one..nice little rental for the other. Books..necessities...minimum wage jobs.
I had made snide comments in and out of my head for weeks about the suburban stepford mothers. You know the ones. They sink into a depression...cry and sob as they drive away from the children. I am not one of those.

I have been one of those but life knocked those rose colored glasses from my face on a cold October night some years ago....taking with it my perception of my perfect life.

The life with my faithful husband of 20 years..I was Mrs. Stepford. Turns out he wasn't Mr. Stepford and neither was his mistress of nearly a year. The six figure income bought a nice pair of rose colored glasses though. They went nicely with the house..with the volunteer work...shuttling the kids back and forth to games and dance classes. Sometimes I would check my glasses in the rear view mirror ..making sure they were on straight..so I kept my view in focus...I would catch a glimpse of the "other" women...the single women..the divorced women. I was not one of those women. Those women didn't have any glasses. Those women worried about things like rent and childcare...grocery money and god forbid dating. Those things I did not worry about. I had lunch dates to keep. A big house to keep in order and decisions on gardening...dinner to make and serve on my matching service.

Now I knew that I was evolved enough that I did not think I was better than those women..absolutely not..I was socially responsible...we donated for God's sake...some of those women were even my friends but I knew I was not one of those women and I would never be. I had the glasses that matched the house..remember?

So in trying to figure out my unsettled feeling has brought me back to them..to me. I am one of the other women now. No glasses. My children did not take any eye wear with them to the University. They took memories of betrayal and divorce...they worry about things like rent and grocery money. And so do I.

I am realizing that although I am not crying and sobbing..on the outside...I am mourning on the inside. My children are gone. Granted they are happy and thrilled to be in college but this isn't about them. As much as I would like it to be ..it isn't. I know they will succeed and prosper. I on the other hand I have the realization that I am out of chances.

I am mourning the idea of the perfect life I wanted for my children. I can't change the choices and mistakes I made. The misplaced trust and the wearing of the glasses. I have to accept that the seal has been placed on their childhood. It's over. I guess as hard as I try there is still a little stepford in me. I had given so much time and effort for that rosy view. It is allowing me empathy for those other women..those rose colored glasses women.

We are all equal in mourning our losses. With or without the glasses we all have our regrets. Whether it is accepting no matter how hard you tried you couldn't provide them with that perfect existence..or that you are left with an empty nest..leaving the only thing left to do is focus on yourself.

Once in a while I will see a pair of those rosy glasses on the ground...obviously someone has lost them...because you would never choose to remove them on your own...I think about picking them up..but then I remember..with or without them...we all mourn our losses..in different ways..but we mourn them just the same.

His choice

I remember the very instant when he told me.
I believed if I just ignored it ..it would go away.
It didn't.
It stayed there.
Crept behind me..no matter where I went..always in the back of my mind.
A black shadow...and if I thought about it too much...panic would set in.
It haunts me.
Breathe...stay calm..support him.
I can do this.
I can do this.
I can do this.
He has made his choice.
I am proud.
I am scared.
I can do this.
Acceptance at the choice.
Breathe.
Letters...daily letters..some twice a day...just a connection.
Get up early..when nothing else could drag me out of bed..but he needs to hear from me..or I need to connect with him?
Either way...whichever..get up..write..put your thoughts down..make sure he knows how much you love him..support him.
What I want to do is go to the bathroom and vomit...until it is all out..let it go.
He is cold..he is scared..he is sleeping in a hole in the ground.
How did I get here?
How did he get there?
I remember dropping him off at a hotel in the night.
He is going to be fine.
Hold it together.
He needs you to be strong.
Do not cry.
Breathe.
He is the child I felt move inside of me.
That I protected for so many years.
Now there is no protection I can provide.
Just prayer.
Nothing physical.
Only mental and emotional..and prayer.
It is a continual paradox.
Immense pride.
Paralyzing fear.
It is everything I believe in and nothing I believe in.
Honor.
Selflessness.
Serving your country.
Killing.
How did I get here?
How did he get there?
I wait for the mailman to bring words from him...or for the phone to ring.
His voice is a gift.
There are times when I am quiet...I can feel him breathe...the rise and fall of his chest..much like the times when he lay against me..when my biggest worry was how long the nap would last..that it would end too soon.
I am realizing at increasing speed how very little I know about life..how fast it is going and how very little I can control it.
I fear the lessons that lay before me.
I am strong..
I can do this.
I can do this.

The Beginning

I am starting this in attempt to get my thoughts out...feelings..the reason I suppose most people write. I am not sure anyone else will find them of interest but I hope just putting them down will help me arrange them some how in my head. I have always loved words..and how like many other things they can take you right back to a place in time...a scent..a feeling...something that is hard to conjure up without a muse...but once you find them..it is as if they have read your mind..it is exactly how you felt in a moment in time..I suppose it is a way of connecting us all. Fascinating isn't it? That letters lined up in the precise order either on a screen or on a page can touch so many people..educate people..anger people..bring them solace..heal them. My writing has never been "novel" material..short stories..little pieces of life..observations..a word or two. I will include past writings here as well as current. So this is my beginning...a place to start..to heal myself.