Poems written by my thirteen year old son

“When you look it in the face it seems harmless. But the longer our heads are turned the bigger it becomes, for it feeds on neglect and ignorance, this monster in our hearts and in our heads. But to defeat this grousom abomination within your own soul you must draw your sword of truth. But mind you its a double edged sword. Victory doesnt come with out sacrifice unless it is truly deserved.”

” You see it from a distance and ponder it’s signifigance. You get closer and closer until finally you are standing at the gate. Instantly you wonder what to do, and you think “but, I have no key.” But what many do not see is that you are the key. Forged in the soul and kept in the mind. But if one allows this key of theirs to sit unused it will become rusty and tarnished. And the longer it sits the harder it is to replace. Until finally a new key must be forged, and you must start your journey again. So do not let your mind go to waste for it is the key to your future.”

” And as he approached the gate he spoke, ” Father, I have come to a barrier I don’t believe I can pass”. And his Father spoke to  him, ” Do you not see the gate, my son?” and he replied “but, Father I have no key.” And his Father said, ” You need no key for this gate is your opportunity, and any opportunity can open up if you put your mind to it.”

The Crossroads “by my 13 year old son”

Just like anything else It seems as though it is far off in the distance, until it hits you right in the face.The fork in the road of life. The point where you must choose which path to take, the right path or the left. The good or the bad. But one must choose to keep moving forward to break through the wilderness and the unknown and forge their own path, because life is a winding road. But it is often not the road less traveled but the road NOT traveled that is the best.

The anniversary

One year behind me, the rest of my life to go. I can’t believe how fast it has gone by. I also can’t believe how much it still hurts. Most days I feel like I am running in sand. Out of breath, with every muscle contracting and expanding to its limit. I am still here. I am still in pain.

I’m not really surprised that I made it through the year. He raised me to get back on the horse. You know what I mean? So many times in my life he helped me back up on my feet. He was my friend. He was my dad. Sure there were times when I felt he wasn’t there for me like I wanted him to be and times when I  thought it was his fault that I was so hurt and angry. He was not a saint. He was my dad.

When I look at the baby and start thinking of his first birthday I cant help but think about the life he missed. We cant possibly give him what he would have been blessed with for knowing my dad the way we knew him. He will know him because he is a part of us forever. He will know him because we will show him pictures and tell him stories, but he will not know him like we did. Not ever. His life will not be empty, I know. It will be rich, because his heart comes from our soil. Our blood runs through him and he is  full of life. He will have the rest of us to fill his heart with laughter, and mischief. The way dad would have.

A year ago we were hopeful and positive. There was a “remission” at our fingertips. Dad was working hard at his recovery once again. Recovery was something he knew well. He recovered from a serious accident as a teenager. He was in recovery as an adult from alcoholism. And a year ago he was working to recover his ability to write and speak the way he once did. He desired to relearn to walk for a second time in his short life. He was ambitious and motivated.  Yet as our breath escapes our chest, in one fell swoop all of that hope was stolen from us. Like the pink elephant the truth was impossible to ignore. Times up! Poof! Just like that. Thank God the lessons he had learned in his life he had learned well. He left no unfinished mischief. No words left unspoken. Just an empty heart ache and a gaping hole in our lives. I don’t begrudge him for going. Who wouldn’t want to go when its their time to rest. Let the angels dance. I just wish…………………

Life is not something you just go through. To be obvious, ” you live it”. If your lucky you have obstacles along the way that help you grow up and stretch your understanding of the world. It can make you stronger, braver, smarter, even better if you let it. Or it can make you quit. They say if it doesn’t kill you it makes you stronger. Ha, sometimes I am not sure which is the better deal. Every life experience is a blessing. All be it some blessings come very well disguised.  I don’t understand what the lesson is here but if I dry my eyes a little, take a deep breath, and another deep breath, I am happy for dad. It still sucks and I hate that I can’t phone him or curl up in his lap. I hate that I can’t lay my eyes on him or hear his loving, wise voice. I hate it, I hate it……………but alas it cannot be undone.

As the day comes upon us my  body starts to ache more and more. I cannot stop my eyes from filling with tears. My heart is a twisted knot. My body remembers even more vividly than my mind can fathom the events of February 23 one year ago. This is why I am keeping my kids home from school. Their bodies remember too even if they haven’t internalized the date. I am still angry. I am still heart sick. I am still broken.

Does time really heal all wounds? Do I really want this wound to heal? Is that a betrayal somehow? If I do not grieve, did I not love the way I should have? All irrelevant questions do to the unyielding reality that my pain does not ask me if it is welcome. It has taken up what seems to be a permanent residence in my soul. I will miss him forever. I have a new found respect for those who have suffered such a loss. And the reality is that many have suffered great losses. My grandfather in-law, who passed away just a few short months after my dad, lost two children and his wife before he could join them. And as much as I can understand his probable desire to be with them I still selfishly desire his return to me as well.

This unyielding ache in the pit of me makes me wonder how anyone survives such losses. The obit reads survived by so and so and such and such but are they really going to survive or have they lost such an enormous part of themselves that they will never be whole again. The mothers and fathers, the husbands and wives, the children, do they really recover? Do they survive? Will I? I suppose I will live, until I die. Right? Isn’t that, simply put, the case with all of us. I have to say while wildly stomping my feet, it sucks! I hate it! I want you to come back to me, whole, right NOW!

The Anniversary February 23 2008

Ready or not

The year is over. So much is lost. So much is coming. Some good, some bad. 2009 ready or not here we come. We are determined to make it. Financially we were already broke so there is little to report. This new year could be just the break we were looking for or it could just break us. Emotionally I don’t know what to expect. I still can not imagine my life the way I see it when I look in the mirror. It is what it is but I remain in a state of slumber as long as I can. Denial, I would love to be Cleopatra. Eventually the Novocaine wheres off and all the pain comes rushing in all at once. There is no real pain relief for conditions of the heart. I try not to let it impede my progress, but most of the time I fight with my desire to curl up under a rock some where nice and tight and undisturbed by life. How unfair it is that you lose someone, their gone, and the pain makes you want to retreat to the point of losing everything else if you let it and there’s a part of you that doesn’t even care. There is still so much left. I have so much to look forward to and yet I find my self looking back longingly or staring into space blindly. My beautiful children growing up before my very eyes, I don’t want to miss any of it. I don’t want even the smallest of seconds to pass me by.

God, please take this pain from me and let me hear your voice. Guide me this year to be a better parent and a better friend. Help us to understand your desire for our lives and to follow you. Please let me be an example of grace and love. Guide my steps that my walk may always honor You.

Ten months later

Its been ten months since dad passed, almost nine since that beautiful baby boy was born. No one warned me that a heart could hold so much pain with so much joy right along side it. No one warned me that a pain could stay with you for so long with no sign of departure. Maybe after this birthday or that anniversary. Maybe after Thanksgiving or Christmas. Maybe then the ache would start to subside. I fear it is with me indefinitely. I know it is. This pain has taken up a permanent residence in my soul. I can not hide from it for very long before it finds me again. Even through laughter and joy on through to complete bliss there is that ever present after taste of anguish.

Wow

A song written by my thirteen year old son. Grandpa weighs heavy on his heart as he thinks about Grandmas loss as well as his own. What an amazing young man!

Woke up one morning and I felt strange

Looked in the mirror and nothing had changed

I made my way towards the stairs and I blacked out and fell

Next morning they told me I wasnt well

cause I cant feel the rain on my skin

Is this a punishment for all my sins?

and cant feel your touch any more

or see you walking through the empty door

or smell you and your purfume

or hear you calling me from the other room

because Im ten feet underground

there are people all around

and I’m here with my mom and dad

and I’m glad

to be away

and to see you again someday

and when you meet me here

there’ll be lots of fun and cheer

and just like there was for me

there’ll be lots of people for you to meet

goodbye

The evolution of a blended family

I have been married to my husband for almost six years. We dated for four years before we wed. The dynamic of our family is ever changing. There are no hard fast rules regarding blending a family. Really even the current thoughts on how to parent are an evolutionary tale. We make it up as we go. We do the very best we can at any given moment and hope we don’t screw our kids up too badly.

Each situation we face is a new one. Like in every family with children our challenges do not often repeat verbatim. Due to the fact that our children are changing every day as they grow and mature and face all kinds of new obstacles. One of the main things we have to watch out for is getting in  our own way. Because I want to view my children as just that, and not his and her children for clarification biologically speaking Boy1 is mine, Boy2 is his and Boy3 is ours. We all live in the same house, with very little contact from our ex-spouses.

When we set rules or make guidelines for our family, they are fine when it is Boy1 who is disappointed or left out but not when it is Boy2. Then we have to consider his feelings. We have to be flexible. We have to show him respect and courtesy. How many times have I told Boy1 to lie down and take it. Be kind, I say. Be generous, I say. Share, I insist. Be happy for others, not jealous. But when the tables are turned its another story. Well it is a new toy, he shouldn’t have to share. Or, he just wants to have some thing special for himself, so we’ll exlude Boy1. When Boy1,Boy3 and I went to Chicago to visit my sister, on her dime, everyone asked surprised “why aren’t you taking Boy2″. Then recently Boy2 stayed three extra days with grandma and Boy1 wasn’t invited, no one complained, no one thinks twice about these exclusions. And Boy1 understands and is happy for his brother. But now Boy2, wants to go and leave his brother behind again, as payback and he is citing the Chicago trip as why he should be able to un-invite his brother. I understand the thought process of a child. What I don’t understand is the adults who encourage or even create this line of thinking.

When my sisters and brother and I were growing up I don’t remember having any pre-conceived ideas about what happened for one happening for all. I am sure there were times when my feelings may have been hurt because I didn’t get an invitation this time but I was not coddled for it. Is it possible to be true to all of them without failing some one in the process. Should I start to allow Boy1 to be selfish and shallow because Boy2 is allowed to be. And what will Boy3 decide. Will he play the victim role like Boy2 or the strong brave left behind happy to be with mom role.

I did put my foot down on the sharing issue the other day. We’ll see what happens when it needs to be enforced. DH almost backed out because it is Boy2 that has the most to lose. I have been way too involved in what, when and how things get shared around here. These boys are almost men and I should not have to referee any longer. Problem is Boy1 has always been the more generous of the two. Boy2 is naturally more possessive. I get that,  I am a possessive person too. Nonetheless house rule for years has been if your not using it you have to share it. You do not have to let some one take your things out of the house but you have to share within these walls. That was too general and too generous for DH and Boy2 so each boy got to pick a few items that they did not  have to share. Keep in mind Boy2 didn’t even bring his toys home from grandma’s after the wedding for six months, but that’s another story and it’s ancient  history. But Boy1 was not allowed to put his play station on the no share list, no matter what. I don’t quite follow the logic on this but I allowed it.

So the other day I was once again in the middle of a sharing feud. I discussed my feelings and my ideas with my husband and we told the boys together the new house rule. “You no longer have to share anything, including the play station. You should share and I encourage you to do so but I will not make anyone share. So keep in mind if you don’t share with your brother he may choose to not share with you.” No problems have arisen so far, I’ll keep you posted.

Now I just have to keep the plank out of my eye and encourage DH to see the injustice and lay off the pity.

What do you think?

The art of listening

The art of listening with your whole heart is lost on the middle ages. As children we are born in tune to the energy around us which includes the energy of the people in our lives. We pick up on their emotions without even needing to understand the spoken words. Gradually we learn to tune out these energy vibrations and when they do come through to our senses we instinctively judge them critically instead of reacting empathetically as we did in our youth. We respond in a defensive manner, passing judgement on the feelings of others and resenting their infringement on our energy field. Creating a clash of energy in the atmosphere that, not unlike a tornado, succeeds in turning our lives upside down and inside out if only for the moment.

As we approach our senior years life’s lessons have hopefully started to come full circle. We loosen our grip on the hearts of others. We remember how to allow them their own space in time and how to love unconditionally once again as we did in infancy. If only we could hold on to the beauty of our accepting young hearts and break the cycle by refusing to teach our children how to manipulate and think only of themselves. Imagine knowing how to truly love like our Heavenly Father all the days of our lives instead of spending the whole of our lives fighting our way back to the openness we once knew.

We truly could fill the whole world with peace, love, and understanding.

Since then

Since that fateful day I have continued to live. I take in breath and slowly exhale. I smile and occasionally laugh, even out loud. Usually I am laughing at myself, sometimes at my children. Never from the deepest part of me, like before. I have celebrated many birthdays, including mine and his. I have celebrated fathers day and my parents anniversary’s. And still I go numbly through my life waiting to regain that piece of me that was somehow lost. That piece of me that I threw with all my might into the wilderness when it finally proved to be untrustworthy.

I have been a fairly intuitive person during my short life, not psychic by any stretch of the imagination, but intuitive. I follow that beacon of light that will guide us if we let it. I have grown to know it fondly and to trust it. It spoke gently to my heart and I understood its language. Until now, now I refuse to look it in the eye. That piece of me that I could use to fly and to hear and to believe, it broke. It has failed me in a most profound way. It kept from me a very important bit of information and allowed my heart to break into a million pieces. All of the warnings were in gibberish and nonsense. I could no longer comprehend and I never saw it coming. Now I have no compass, I cant even hear the universe let alone understand it. I am lost in the ruin of my broken heart.

I am well aware that millions of people suffer worse fates than I, and many of them survive. I know I will survive. And I will regain my strengh and intuition, I will go on and live a blessed life. Time and life have unfolded these events over and over for generations. It is the circle of things, the way things were meant to be. So they tell me anyway. I am strong and I am not alone. But my life will never be the same. Whats done will not be undone. There is something about this wound that will never heal.

My second mom

June 1st is my dad and step-moms anniversary. I hesitate to call her. It’s not like she won’t already be thinking about it and I want her to know how I feel. I just don’t want to remind her of her pain.

My dad is gone, but I still want to celebrate the union that made Gramma sweet family. That day almost thirty years ago tied our souls to hers and we’re never going to let go. The heart break is, he’s gone.

I don’t want to just remember the fact that if he were still here they would be celebrating another beautiful anniversary. Their marriage was one to aspire to. They loved each other with a passion beyond your imagination. They supported each other and treated each other with kindness. They trusted and respected each other. They enjoyed each others company immensely. They had their individuality, but they were the best of friends. I can’t even imagine the weight on her chest. I can’t even imagine the crushing numbness that comes with losing a spouse.

But she, Gramma sweet, is one of the most amazing women I have ever had the blessing of knowing. She took my dad in holy matrimony with three children and a hurting ex-wife. She made herself available to us in a way that our blood parents could not. She loved because she wanted to, because she could, because she chose to. Not because we were born to her.

God works in mysterious ways. Growing up a child of divorce, I had a lot of questions. Ironically, I never wished my parents back together like some kids do. I just wanted them to be neighbors. I didn’t want to give up my step-parents. I knew even then that they were a blessing in disguise. That’s why I want to celebrate tomorrow, because tomorrow is the anniversary of Gramma sweet telling the world not only how much she loved my dad but also how much she loved us kids.

Some people are lucky enough to get one set of beautiful people to raise them. Divorce can turn even beautiful people into complete fools. I was doubly blessed. Not that my parents never made any mistakes, they were human after all. Looking back I see that most of the mistakes were made by me.

If I could take her pain away I would. I would take it all and swallow it hole. I would carry it with me until the end of time so that she did not have to suffer. I would spend every last day begging God to bring him back only for her, not even for me. I love her. She is my parent, my friend and my mom.