Showing posts with label grief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grief. Show all posts

Monday, July 25, 2016

Ballad of Grief

Thunder grumbles, lightening shrieks, rain surrounds me, the ocean laps at my feet.
Offering comfort, crying with me, darkness soothing as it hides the tears.
Pain, mine and more, tumbles through me, lancing my heart, causing retreat.
 
Energy pulses and streaks to the skies. Loneliness claws, grief slowly encroaches,
Threatening joy, tearing at walls. Each new learning, a wave crashing against the sand,
shrinking the peace, my heart, and reminding how I am so small.
 
But tall I will stand, bending, not breaking, until their grief is tamed, .
Until my sadness has passed into the bleak corridor of death, alive no more.
When the griefs borne before have settled, and solace is mine to behold.
 
Spilling of love with a whole soul, beholding of my blemished heart.
Friends and affection overcoming a lifetime of scorn and rejection.
Gentle return of love, of soft touches and whispered kisses.
 
But until then, I shall stand in the ocean's waves, loving her embrace.
Resting under Thor's force, apart but surrounded, the night holding sway.
My lips chilled, my cheeks heated with my tears, my eyes lost in the storm.
 
Crying hold me, feel me, see me, show me a way back to the warmth.

Sunday, April 26, 2015

Phantom Grief

I've been trying to wrap my head around my grief and feelings to write this post. I just couldn't do it yesterday. Why? It's the anniversary of my brother's death. All week, well month really, without even consciously thinking about it, I've been seeing things everywhere that remind me of Timmy. Everywhere I went, there was a man with his coloring and his age (then, not what he would be now.) It broke my heart, caused my chest to seize, and almost brought me to my knees at one point.

I've become adept at hiding my deeper feelings. Anger leeks through the most, but, as a child, I learned that showing my vulnerability only caused me to hurt more, to have the adults manipulate me. As an adult, I have seen much difference. Except now, I can leave those that do the most harm. So, when these feelings hit, when I start having weird dreams that are sometimes exactly about him, or in a round about way, or about something else serious, I put it out of my mind.

Until I can't anymore.

I woke up Saturday not wanting to face the day. We have had a couple of stressful weeks. No food because we paid off a loan so we could get a different one to buy a car, stock up on necesseties, get my kids beds (two of my kids had been sleeping on couch because after the move, we didn't have enough beds. They had to be thrown out.), and get a steam cleaner. We made good investments, but now we're without money again and a birthday coming up. So, I attributed it to not being able to get my passport, the discover pass, and fishing licenses we wanted yet. But, as the day wore on, so did my sadness.

I think you need to know, I'm not only fairly pragmatic about being poor, I am gifted at making our dollars stretch. So this was weird to be feeling that sadness when I was so happy about the rest. Quite trippy on some levels.

When it hit me, I felt like doing that V8 commercial and slapping my own forehead. See, April has traditionally been sucky months. For this year, if the worst that happens is that I was hungry for 10 days and my kids had more top ramen than I like, I'll be thankful. For an idea of what I mean, check out my hashtag, #effoffApril here in my blogs. I don't know how long the twitter caches work, but I had a rip roaring couple of Aprils in my life, not counting ones like this one. Being hungry for 10 days while pretending things are all right to everyone, isn't my idea of fun, but the others were way worse. (I did finally tell a few close friends about me being hungry. My son found out I didn't eat for a couple of days because I wasn't sure when our money would arrive, and he wasn't happy with me.)

I hadn't planned on writing a blog post, but then, while talking to my friends, I realized that maybe it would be good for others to know. And here's where I come to why I needed to write this post.

Phantom Grief

This is what I call that grief you wake up with because you have to relive the moment that someone you loved is dead. See, while sleeping, I'd dream he was there, his laughter, his irreverent sense of humor, his love for life, his steadfastness, and most, his acceptance of me. He was good to me, the connection to my adopted family. Without him, I pretty much lost them. I'd basically lost them before, but his death was a slice of a chord. Many hurts surround that time. Like not being told of trips for his ashes, and other stuff. So, for me, it's like facing that as well. That rejection.


But, it happened years ago. My brother died years ago. How can this grief be real? He wasn't there last night. We didn't meet up with our kids born weeks apart and compare how beautiful and wonderful they are. We didn't go to the fair with them. We didn't FB chat, or have dinner. None. Of. It. Happened. Yet, IT DID. I felt every moment, every heartbeat, as if I got to see his little girl, hear her laughter (I've not seen her since a baby), and hear their laughter echo together. I got to heal a little bit of the wound from knowing I will never fit in somewhere that he did so effortlessly. That being constantly misjudged and misaligned for things you didn't do as well as things you did, whether you meant them the way someone took you or not, is forgiven and the breach has been bridged.

He loved life. Loved laughter. Loved his family. He was the joy, the strength. I really believe he was the best of us and died way to soon. But, in my dreams, in my heart, you live on, little brother. You are loved.

How can I be grieving him now, as if he just died, when he died so many years ago? Because, for a little while in the night, he was real, solid, here. Phantom though he may be, he lived again, if only in my dreams.

And phantom or no, the grief is real.

My new life, my new way of doing things, is a testament to him, even though it wasn't a conscious choice to be. I am aiming to make my life better, to see the positive, let go of the negative. I'm not perfect. I have a lot of grief and anger stored up from years of abuse, neglect, and rejection. However, my new life is about joy, love, happiness, and getting what I want out of life for myself and my family.

Maybe that's why he's living in my dreams so often now--not grief, but love, joy.

Welcome, little brother, living phantom, play hard and laugh.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Death and the Red Parrot

Death and the Red Parrot

inspired by Andrew Jack


See before you now not a man, but a young child
Full of wonder as he sees a glimpse of the wild.
Birds, great cats, snakes and more as he walks
Barely listening to the keeper as she talks.

He sees not the cages, the glassed in walls
Inside his mind, a brighter, living image calls.
His heart is alive with a desperate beating
His imagination flows, time will show it is not fleeting.

His face is bright. The images alive as they form inside
His great mind. His feet keep moving, one in a slide,
As he drags his feet when the teacher says time to go.
He's staring intently at the great bird as it moves to and fro.

His eyes, wide, he stares intently at the one great red.
It catches the stare and slightly turns its feathered head.
Time stood on its axis for our young Aaron, though he later doubts,
As the bird and him took turns, neither one hearing the shouts.

The years crawl by and our young Aaron never forgets
The day at the zoo with the animals, especially the parrots.
He grows up strong, resplendent in body and mind.
In his heart, he remains, truthful, just and kind.

He meets his love, her blue eyes, and honeyed colored hair
Turn him into a poet, as he wants to claim her with beauty and flare.
His love is strong; his pursuit is mighty. He knows she is the one.
He gets her to laugh, to cry, to be his wife. Her love, he has won.

His joy is complete when she births to him, one son, one daughter.
He knows not of the impending sorrow, the soon to happen slaughter.
That Death has rubbed his hands in glee, seeing Aaron's complete
Love, seeing him so happy. Thru sun, rain, ice and sleet

Their family loves, from the depths of their hearts,
Not seeing the day from each other they will depart.
Death remembers young Aaron well, for he looked
Out, from a sick bird's eyes, saw purity of soul and was hooked.

Death's soul has long been charred, burned, bloody, and scarred.
His original mission of accompanying the lost has been marred.
He started out pure, but after time, the soul is no longer clean.
Giving in to the power, his lust, his greed, makes him mean.

Throughout the years, death has looked upon the boy.
Looking through the eyes of the birds, Death remained coy.
He wanted to damage the man. Marr the soul, make it black.
Show the world, that once love is gone, there is no getting it back.

So here and there, as time moved inexorably forward,
The family's red parrot became a way to watch, to speak the odd word.
To penetrate Aaron's mind, to start him along the murky walk.
Grooming him for the time when together they would talk.

The day finally comes when Death no longer has to wait.
He stands by and watches as the family goes through their dark fate.
Aaron is gone, happily at work. Earning money so his family
Could live in peace in the world's depressing economy.

He has no inkling of what he will eventually find.
The blood is spattered all over the walls, leaving none behind.
Death is eager for the young boy turned man to come home.
Eager to see someone with the same pain be left alone to roam.

He stays inside the blood soaked room, waiting, waiting.
Gathering the souls to him, the feeling of life fleeting.
He closes his eyes as he feasts on their beauty
Knowing that he is failing, still he refuses to do his duty.

Aaron comes home, laughing and calling "I'm home! I'm here!"
Puts his briefcase down then faces the room. He grips the wall in fear
As his eyes roam over the beloved bodies of his family.
His soul's tears start deep within, the bird watches him cagily.

For the bird can see the specter of Death and knows him.
He's seen him before. Haunting, bringing chill, leaving the house grim.
Aaron cries out and falls to his knees, trying to scream out his pain
But for all his troubles and emotions, his voice finds no gain.

He fumbles in his pocket for the phone, for help he calls.
The pain inside is deep, it can't be contained within the four walls.

He gets up and staggers outside, waiting to take more inside.
Inside where blood has seeped through the boards and spread wide.
His mind stirs and thinks of the bird from so long ago, the staring.
Somehow that look is akin to the one on the face of his wife, accusing, glaring.

His heart is wretched, broken, and bleeding. His soul is crying.
So caught up in his pain, he never senses Death spying.
He gets up to talk to the cops, he copes as he must
Each move on auto as he gets ready to see his family returned to dust.

He holds it together for his family and friends,
Inside he is dying, the world as he knows it suspends.
He has no wish to do anything else but this.
His life, his blood, turned to dust, gone is his bliss.

The parrot has cried when the man has been gone.
He is aware of the part Death has played to bring the pain on.
He watches with his keen eyes, as his master, his companion
Cries and makes plans for the ones whom he lost to Death's minion.

One day the man comes home, his spirit has waned away.
The power keeping him moving, has gone, life has no more sway.
He pulls out a weapon, sits down on the couch. In his hand, a gun
The bird starts to squawk. He looks sadly and pauses, remembering his son.

He opens the cage, inserts his hand, and coaxes the red bird,
To let him be held. He stroked his parrot with nary a word.
But Death is calling to Aaron. His finger he crooks, his smile wide.
The parrot is angry, wishing he could help Aaron get away, to hide.

With deep love and affection, the bird has a glimmer,
An idea has started, for a moment left to simmer.
"Cracker," he says, hoping his master will reward him,
Needing the reprieve. For hope has waned, the feeling is dim.

Aaron smiles dully, deciding to give to the beautiful parrot he loved
A cracker as a gift before facing Death and giving life a shove.
The Parrot's eyes meet Death's darkness, and for a moment,
Death is worried, but then remembers grief's torment.

Aaron comes out and says, "Cracker, my feathered friend?"
The parrot thinks I must say something, or this is the end.
"Death is near. He is like a parrot. It is on blood he feeds.
Do not ask him if he wants a cracker, because it is your soul he needs"

The man turned white, wondering if his mind has gone mad.
This bird has spoken as if he knew the gun meant the news was bad.

He looked hard at the red parrot, deep into the eyes of the bird,
Neither moving, neither speaking, seemingly absurd.
But suddenly Aaron's mind to the past it went, the thoughts they flew.
The grooming was there, if how to look you knew.

He looked over to the place his mind's eye still saw blood.
And there it was, in shadows, crusty, full of hatred, hiding behind a hood.
Death stared back at him, not believing his eyes.
It looked as if the man was saying his goodbyes.

It was a start along the path needed, for grief to get peace
And begin the healing. Death roared his anger, his rage he began to release.
But Aaron is safe now, he can see. No longer Death's pawn.
The red parrot and he, together, they stood, to greet new dawn.

Monday, January 31, 2011

The writing community

I love the writing community. It's so supportive. You have a bad day, you get virtual hugs. You have a good day, you get virtual high-fives. It's super awesome. You can find blogs from those like mine about the everday struggle of juggling my responsibilities of wife, mother, and part time work while still trying to make a writing career, to those that have numerous self-help and writing tips like Jami Gold's. http://jamigold.com/ to plain fun like @M__Mitchell http://www.badboyscanbefun.com/ that makes you think and your writing improve.

Whatever part of the writing process you need themost support in (finding time--look to blogs like mine, issues--blogs like Jami's, technical--blogs like edittorrent http://edittorrent.blogspot.com/ (grammar geeks unite!) you will find it in the writing community.

Recently, @briquinlan and @Mgbuehrlen, who run the Writer's Yardsale store http://www.cafepress.com/writersyardsale/7204306(awesome support story there as well) to help sponsor their writing careers, started a design contest. Basically, they are looking for designs for their T shirts and mugs.

I did a design based on my new Gal Friday Noir series I'm writing. But I can't get the background to be transparent. (grrr. anyone knows how to do that, I'll kiss them, or not as their preference may be!) I asked for help on twitter. @Wulfie_ (whom I met through the #zombiesurvivalcrew @Jtzerzieff and chat w/ through @Jinxie_G and @PatriciaIVicens) gave me couple hints and also told me to download Picasa. So, I did. It hasn't worked on the transparency issue, yet, but it did something else totally amazing. (@grae42 and new to me peeps @joelandmandy also told me to download program paint.NET to help since it's the paint program that I originally used. Lots of good help!)

Back story. Any y'all remember my computer crashed? To say I was devastated is understatement. My brother died less than 2 years ago and I had the pictures from the last time I saw him, he was holding my baby and his baby before he moved to Georgia. Also, my baby has Down Syndrome, was born three weeks early and spent first week in ICU and then few more days in hospital (recovered MUCH quicker than doc's expected!) and all those pics were lost. I was told by guy at Best Buy (where I bought my computer and have 3 year warranty that it was gone. I decided to not believe him and haven't taken my computer in yet cuz I have friend who does information recovery.

Well, I download this program and as it's finishing installing it asks, "do you want only pics from picture and document folder or from all over whole computer" or something like that. A little piece of hope lit up in me. Could it? Would it find my old pics despite the new wall??? I put all over the whole computer. And yes, as I'm sure you've guessed now, all my pics are back! I cried and cried and cried happy tears! So many important pics, my daughters graduation, a family reunion, birthdays, fourth of july, and everyday things like my baby's face full of spaghetti in his high chair, or our family's experience at the Pizza Hut in Texas next to my husband's college/work place. So much was lost and has been found.

And it is the perfect timing. My brother's birthday is next week. Last Year. I was pretty much depressed from now until about a week after the anniversary of his death. Having these pictures may make the difference between me being able to cope and continue writing and supporting my family or not.

So thank you writing community. Thank you for all your support, love, encouragement and well wishes. I love all of you. I haven't even mentioned all my favorites here! You have been my life line since my brother died. Literally. The blogs, the community support when I'm feeling down, helping me improve my craft so that I can more effectively channel my emotions into my work, all has been of immeasurable importance to me.