Still With the Living

No, I didn't fall off the face of the earth. I have been extremely busy these past two months. I just got back from London where I had a wonderful 10 day visit with my daughter and her family. There is absolutely nothing better in the world than holding your children and grandchildren in your arms. My new grandson is so sweet. I am afraid I may have spoiled him already because I held him so much. And my granddaughter is so much like her mother was at that age... so gregarious and full of energy, yet sweet and caring. Climbing into the taxi to head back to the airport was so, so difficult. I am sending my other daughter over for a visit at Christmastime. Our gift to both of them. Hopefully, we will be seeing all of them stateside in late spring or early summer. Until then, webcam and phone calls will keep us going.

I have a lot of work to do over the next week or two and then hopefully I will be back to writing a bit. Until then, I will just enjoy reading the other blogs I follow. See you soon.

Salvation

Quiet solitude, like a scalpel, cuts into my heart, letting emotions long tamed spew forth, bringing a bloody burning sadness to the day. Lonely solitude, like a raging sea around a deserted isle, washes away the levy locked around my soul, flooding my mind with swirling thoughts and memories. I cannot drag myself to the surface of this funk, my life preserver is miles away, and I feel myself sinking swiftly in this current of sorrow. If you have never lost a child so dear you can never understand that you cannot ever heal from having your heart ripped up and torn to pieces, that the best you can hope for is to get up each morning and trudge on, seeking normalcy in routine, no matter how insignificant or frustrating it may be. And when that normalcy is disrupted, you hang by a thread from the very edge of hope, wondering if you have the strength to save yourself once again, to pull yourself to safety, or if you could just let it all go and float down to the depths of the very hell from which you have been running, to surrender to the dreams that haunt your nights. I want to scream out to the world that I am not okay, I will never be okay, but instead, every day I get up and join the masquerade, hiding raw emotion behind a mask of indifference. And instead of screaming, I write. It is my salvation. Early in the morning before the sun is up or late at night when the house is quiet I seek solace in writing, unseen and unspoken words pouring out onto the pages, escaping like sweat from my pores, bringing cooling relief from the seering pain of motherhood unfinished. And slowly my mood shifts and the words lift me and give me strength to face the world again, to get on with it all, to be a part of the living.

"River of Tears"

by Eric Clapton. I say no more.

Little Piece of Heaven

What is it about one's own bed that is so sweet, so restful after a long day, that is a place like no other? Is it the softness of the sheets and the smell of the pillow as your weary body sinks into the mattress? Or the sigh of comfort the moment the sheet and blankets settle around you, encasing you in a sense of security? Is it the familiarity of the space around you casting out the uncertainties of the day? Is it the proximity of a partner lying nearby, bringing peace to your slumber? Is it that the bed is the safe haven you go to when you are sad, angry, or scared? Where you shed your emotions without the world watching? The place you cry, laugh, love, and dream?

After a weekend filled with friends, music, food, drinks and fun I was still so glad to get home, to fall into my own bed for a rejuvenating sleep. My husband and I have always said that no matter what life tosses our way we would be okay as long as we had each other and our bed. Our own little 5' x 7' piece of heaven!

I Didn't Start the Fire....

Well actually I did. I started a fire today in our backyard. This was no small fire, it was a bonfire that a party of fifty or more could have huddled around on a brisk late October evening, roasting marshmallows and telling ghost stories. But on a ninety-three degree July day it felt more like standing at the gates of hell, waiting for the devil himself to rise from the depths and choose his next resident. With bright orange flames licking dangerously close to the outstretched branches of the still-standing oak trees it was something to behold, and fear. The garden hose that was snaked around the perimeter of the enormous wood/brush pile suddenly seemed like a futile attempt at safety. As my husband, aka Fire Marshall Jim, sprayed down the grass and the nearby branches to prevent scorching from the heat, I began to feel a knot form in the pit of my stomach. Only one side of the enormous brush pile was actually in flames and I could only imagine what was about to ensue when we had the whole pile engulfed. I envisioned our one acre lot with its fifty or so trees blazing like a forest fire as the flames leaped from tree to tree. With the neighbor standing at the ready to call for reinforcement I grabbed the hose from my husband and began to soak down the center of the pile to keep the flames from spreading quite so quickly. The heat was tremendous and I had to crouch as low as I could to keep my face from melting off my skull. Jim and I took turns trying to tame the roaring beast, beating it back with a constant hail of water. It hissed and smoked, retreated and rushed, until it was manageable. Then we eased up on the water and watched the flames dance toward heaven, crackling and whooshing, within the confines of the pit we had created. I was able to relax a little and stand guard, occasionally spraying errant flames into submission. I fully expected to hear sirens wailing and see the entire volunteer fire department lumbering into our yard. I wondered momentarily if we were breaking the law by burning within the city limits so I ran in and grabbed the hot dogs, buns, plates, and sodas. We set up a table well out of the reach of the scorching heat, speared the wieners, and attempted to thrust them toward the fire. It would be another hour before we could get close enough to roast those dogs but we eventually were able to have our lunch and chat with our neighbors. With the brush pile disappearing before our eyes three things caught my eye: four one-gallon plastic pots were slumped near the edge of the flower bed, ten feet from the fire, melted into each other like a funky garden sculpture; the leaves on one entire side of a small redbud tree that my husband had refused to cut down were shriveled and scorched to an autumn brown, contrasting starkly with the broad green leaves on the other side; and a blackened piece of newspaper that had floated up out of the brush and into the sky had landed at my feet, its only legible word taunting me - Safety!

Happy Place

My job is very frustrating at times but I have found a solution to keep me grounded. At my desk I have hung several pictures of my granddaughter on both sides of my computer screen. When I look at them I can't help but smile. There she is with her wonderful expressions, evoking a lighter mood when I begin to feel tense over the office turmoil. She is my happy place. Not only mine now, but everyone in the office stops at my desk occasionally to regroup and smile. What great therapy she is.

My granddaughter is almost 28 months old and though she is an ocean away she brings both me and my husband much joy. With her blonde head and bright personality, her intense curiosity and gregarious nature, she is so much like her mother when she was that age. She is a little bundle of energy and love, full of a contagious happiness, spreading smiles like sunshine. When we talk to her by phone, which we do at least weekly, she chatters away, telling us all about her life, though some of it we still don't understand. We try to do webcams weekly so we can stay connected and watch her grow and change, and because of webcams she recognizes us and the distance doesn't feel quite so long. But there is nothing like being there in person and I cannot wait to go over in October for a visit after my new grandbaby is born. I want to wrap my family in my arms, to hold them, to make the connection that only being there in person allows. I have blocked off my vacation time and will be booking my flight soon. Until then, keep the pictures coming!

Tagged

I was tagged to do this meme. I have never done one before so here goes:

The rules are simple: one word answers to 40 questions.

Where is your cell phone? Charger
Your significant other? Asleep
Your hair? Unbrushed
Your mother? Love
Your father? Smart
Your favorite time of day? Dawn
Your dream last night? None
Your favourite drink? Red
Your dream goal? Book
The room you’re in? African
Your ex? Forgotten
Your fear? Heights
Where do you want to be in six years? Fit
What are you not? Rich
Your favourite meal? Steak
One of your wish list items? Cruise
The last thing you did? Dishes
Where you grew up? Indiana
What are you wearing? Pajamas
Your TV is? Off
Your pets? Memories
Your computer? Lifeline
Your life? Busy
Your mood? Unsettled
Missing someone? Always
Your car? Comfortable
Something you’re not wearing? Bra
Favorite store? Antiquish
Your summer? Short
Your favourite colour? Yellows
When is the last time you laughed? Today
When is the last time you cried? June
Your health? Good
Your children? Wonderful
Your future? Unkown
Your beliefs? Strong
Young or old? Neither
Your image? Stubborn
Your appearance? Ordinary
Would you live your life over again knowing what you know? Definitely

That's all I have time for today. I'm off to Indy soon.