I've been thinking a lot about us lately.
And I think I finally admitted to myself that there never really was an us. There was you and there was me and there were moments when I thought maybe.
I wanted so desperately to be wanted. Needed. Loved.
I wanted with all my heart to believe you when you said you loved me. I wanted even more to believe myself when I said I loved you too.
But if I loved you, you would know everything there is to know about me. But you never looked to see below the surface, content instead to skim the top. And all the secrets I have stayed silent. And all the words I could have said chose to say nothing at all.
But oh my foolish heart. She wanted to be yours. She would have slayed dragons for you, fouht against any injustice, stayed by your side through think and thin. She would have been your warrior. Your best friend. Yours for all time... If you had really wanted her.
My heart cried for days until my head told her to just hang on. We've been here before we said to ourself. We may bend but we never break. He will not be the last man you love. And what you felt only felt a little bit like love. A little bit with a whole lot missing. He never even knew your favorite color was brown. Or that sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night screaming for your Mother. Or that there are some hurts so deep he'd never be able to unbury them all.
The truth is he was in his own orbit. And you were a star circling his sun.
You loved who you thought he was. You loved who you thought he might be. You loved the idea of what you could be together. You loved a dream that fell asleep too fast and woke up too soon.
So now you're left with only silence. You don't know how to go back to just being a friend and you know you can't move forward with someone who didn't tell you the entire truth. And so you mourn both a failed relationship and a friendship that was worth even more than the short few months you thought you might be something more.
And so you do the only thing you can... You move on.
And you forget all the little things he said. And you forget how you used to smile just to hear his voice or the sound of his stupid ice machine. And you avoid even thinking about any memory that holds a piece of him. You can't survive an avalanche if you insist on standing beneath it. And this time you're saving yourself from a heartache you just can't let take control.
So you push back and you reach out and you grab an opportunity to grow. And when the new voice says hi you say an even steadier hello. And the conversation begins just with a new name, a new face and a new we'll have to wait and see. It doesn't have to be love but that's not to say it won't bloom and grow...
I admit it.
I can get absolutely bottom of the pit down in the dumps melacholy blue from time to time. It's a feeling I know well in a been there, done that one too many times kind of way. And so I do the only thing I know how to do. Pull in, pull back, buckle down, take a deep breath and fight my way through until I can see some sign of daylight through the darkness.
But I've got a gift for climbing mountains and a heart that never gives up even when it breaks.
I am enough if not for anyone else than at least always for me.
I can get absolutely bottom of the pit down in the dumps melacholy blue from time to time. It's a feeling I know well in a been there, done that one too many times kind of way. And so I do the only thing I know how to do. Pull in, pull back, buckle down, take a deep breath and fight my way through until I can see some sign of daylight through the darkness.
But I've got a gift for climbing mountains and a heart that never gives up even when it breaks.
I am enough if not for anyone else than at least always for me.
Excessive Thinking Damages the Soul
It's only when I'm thinking that things begin to go wrong.
So I've tried to stop. Stop thinking. Because I can't figure out any other way to go about my day without just wanting to break down and cry. And I don't have time to break. And I honestly know that given enough time my heart will heal on its own regardless of how much it doesn't feel that way right now.
Truth is I miss talking to him. I miss his good morning darling calls and his fall asleep on the phone goodbyes. I miss the man I called a freind for years and the lover I knew for a short five months.
The common sense side of me tries to understand. Seeing things from his line of vision. The stress of ending an almost 20 year marriage. The stress of raising two boys on his own. The stress of dealing with bat shit crazy behavior and a divorce that couldn't and as far as I know still hasn't happened soon enough. All of that and so much more weighs heavy on a heart and mind.
So maybe we just had poor timing.
And yet... I have this awful sense of loss.
Because I loved him.
And it seems even though he claimed he loved me too, he never really did at all.
So I've tried to stop. Stop thinking. Because I can't figure out any other way to go about my day without just wanting to break down and cry. And I don't have time to break. And I honestly know that given enough time my heart will heal on its own regardless of how much it doesn't feel that way right now.
Truth is I miss talking to him. I miss his good morning darling calls and his fall asleep on the phone goodbyes. I miss the man I called a freind for years and the lover I knew for a short five months.
The common sense side of me tries to understand. Seeing things from his line of vision. The stress of ending an almost 20 year marriage. The stress of raising two boys on his own. The stress of dealing with bat shit crazy behavior and a divorce that couldn't and as far as I know still hasn't happened soon enough. All of that and so much more weighs heavy on a heart and mind.
So maybe we just had poor timing.
And yet... I have this awful sense of loss.
Because I loved him.
And it seems even though he claimed he loved me too, he never really did at all.
I don't know how to write anymore. I haven't done in it so long that I have to stop and collect my thoughts just to get anything down. I guess that's what comes of living in an emotional coma for the past two years. I turned it all off. The good, the bad and all the in between.
So where do we start? With truth? Or fiction?
Or do we just say hello and stop with an early goodbye to see what tomorrow may bring?
Will it bring me here? Or will I wind up back in hiding with a thousand and one voices urging me with things to say only to be silenced when I'm too tired to entertain my muse or deal with all those thoughts running through my head?
And I have so many thoughts...
Of where I am and where I'm going. Of who I am and who I want to be. Of old hurts and new hurts I've picked up along my way. Of things I've always said and all the things that I've been meaning to say.
How I found my faith and lost my faith.
How I found love and watched it leave.
And how I begin again to piece myself together until I'm as well mended as a broken person can be...
So where do we start? With truth? Or fiction?
Or do we just say hello and stop with an early goodbye to see what tomorrow may bring?
Will it bring me here? Or will I wind up back in hiding with a thousand and one voices urging me with things to say only to be silenced when I'm too tired to entertain my muse or deal with all those thoughts running through my head?
And I have so many thoughts...
Of where I am and where I'm going. Of who I am and who I want to be. Of old hurts and new hurts I've picked up along my way. Of things I've always said and all the things that I've been meaning to say.
How I found my faith and lost my faith.
How I found love and watched it leave.
And how I begin again to piece myself together until I'm as well mended as a broken person can be...
Thoughts on KC's Senior Year Drawing to a Close
Around me everything is changing.
And I stand here frozen in place waiting for the world to stop.
To let me have this moment where I can pretend that this year is going to be like every other year...
I'm not ready to let you go even though you are so ready to fly.
And I stand here frozen in place waiting for the world to stop.
To let me have this moment where I can pretend that this year is going to be like every other year...
I'm not ready to let you go even though you are so ready to fly.
The Joy of Ordinary Moments
Childhood is a kite flying free on a summer breeze. It's the fastest speed your feet can carry you and it's the longest night that seems to never end in anticipation of the morning. We - like so many other families - believed that tomorrow was a given. An unspoken promise that would lead us from one transition to the next. Our movements marked by the seasons of all the time we'd yet to spend.
Ashton was absolute happiness. The kind of joy that was impossible to contain. His smile could melt hearts and his laugh was big enough to fill entire rooms. His capacity to love was limitless. Wherever he was was where you wanted to be.
So many people helped our Ashton last summer. Nurses, doctors, friends, family and people we may never ever know. To all of you who prayed with us, wept with us and mourned with us there are no words to tell you how much you helped our broken hearts. You gave us courage in the face of overwhelming sorrow and fear.
There is no getting over losing Ashton. After a year I've accepted that even though I have learned to welcome new joys into my world, there will always be an Ashton sized hole in my heart.
Today in memory of our sweet boy I encourage you to hug your kids, forget about the dishes that they didn't do or whatever chore they might have been assigned. Hold their hands and go for a walk. Maybe get an ice cream or just snuggle down with a book at bedtime. Whatever you do cherish your time...
How the Heart Breaks
My dear sweet, silly boy is gone.
My heart is broken.
I've tried to wrap my head around the events of the last five months to no avail. I can't tell you why kids get cancer, or why an eight year old who loved to laugh and smile had to endure so much in such a short amount of time.
All I can tell you is that it hurts in a way I've never felt pain before. Hollowing me out on the inside until I'm numb enough to think that the worst of missing him is over until it swings back around again to burn my face from all the tears I cry.
I cry a lot.
The smallest things can make me cry... The sound of children playing, walking by the clothing section for boys in Target, hearing something Ashton would have found funny, reading a story to little Jack the next door neighbor boy - who in an emergency situation, I found myself babysitting last night.
My heart - though it did its best - I learned is just not ready to be around little boys, especially little boys wearing pajamas with the same cartoon face that was on the blanket my nephew had slept under all of these months.
I miss the sound of Ashton's voice. The way he said, "Hewwo," and "Aunt Stacey." I miss his giggles. His jokes. And his sweet, one thousand beams of light smile...
I miss him making me laugh.
I miss making him laugh too...
I've tried to wrap my head around the events of the last five months to no avail. I can't tell you why kids get cancer, or why an eight year old who loved to laugh and smile had to endure so much in such a short amount of time.
All I can tell you is that it hurts in a way I've never felt pain before. Hollowing me out on the inside until I'm numb enough to think that the worst of missing him is over until it swings back around again to burn my face from all the tears I cry.
I cry a lot.
The smallest things can make me cry... The sound of children playing, walking by the clothing section for boys in Target, hearing something Ashton would have found funny, reading a story to little Jack the next door neighbor boy - who in an emergency situation, I found myself babysitting last night.
My heart - though it did its best - I learned is just not ready to be around little boys, especially little boys wearing pajamas with the same cartoon face that was on the blanket my nephew had slept under all of these months.
I miss the sound of Ashton's voice. The way he said, "Hewwo," and "Aunt Stacey." I miss his giggles. His jokes. And his sweet, one thousand beams of light smile...
I miss him making me laugh.
I miss making him laugh too...
Honorary Officer Ashton... Thank you to Make-A-Wish for making Ashton's Dream come true...
There is no better gift to give then one that makes a child smile from his heart. In Ashton's memory, I pledge to make a yearly donation for the rest of my life to help bring joy to others. Please consider donating to Make-A-Wish as well...
And yet this is reality.
Ashton is fighting Leukemia.
Most days he has a smile on his face and his personality is so warm and funny that the nurses can't help falling just a little bit more in love with him each day. Proof of this can be seen on a daily basis. When Ashton calls for a nurse it's usually more than one that comes running. And they never leave right away either... Instead they pull up a chair alongside his bed and laugh as he decides who he feels like "firing" for the day.
I spend my weekends at the hospital... I come up on Friday nights after work and leave late on Sunday afternoon in order to give my sister a chance to do what she needs to do at home. Ashton and I watch movies, play video games, sing silly songs and sometimes make Mr. Potato heads that bear a strange resemblance to my father.
Ashton has two different types of Leukemia:
JMML (Juvenile Myelomonoctic Leukemia) and AML (Acute Myeloid Leukemia)
Somewhere along the way I stopped reading the definitions and the prognosis. The big words didn't scare me but the tone of implied hopelessness did. Instead we take it day by day. The good, the bad and the sometimes ugly...
And each night I send words of prayer into the night... Blessings for healing, blessings for hope and blessings for a miracle to come our Ashton's way.
2011
It seems only fitting that I should find myself here tonight posting my final draft for 2011 while noting that it's only my seventh post of the year. I will probably find myself years from now wondering what could have kept me from writing. And to answer I will probably remember this year as one that contained mostly stress, strife and general discontent mostly of my own making.
But I really have no regrets. What good are regrets anyway? They serve no purpose save to make you feel miserable about having felt miserable. And since I cannot change what has already been, I can simply look forward to a new year, a new beginning and the hope that somehow I will make those much needed changes to promote better health and a better spirit for me and for those I love.
But I really have no regrets. What good are regrets anyway? They serve no purpose save to make you feel miserable about having felt miserable. And since I cannot change what has already been, I can simply look forward to a new year, a new beginning and the hope that somehow I will make those much needed changes to promote better health and a better spirit for me and for those I love.
In the Running for the World's Shortest Poem
Copper pennies. Water fountain wishes.
Waiting on dreams.
Waiting on dreams.
Sunday Morning
Far too early to be awake on a Sunday morning and yet I'm almost reveling in the quiet solitude save for the sound of the washer currently spinning out a load in its attempts to rattle the rest of the house awake.
Golden sunlight skims across the tops of the trees and pours itself like liquid gold across the darkness of my hardwood floors filling the house with its soft translucent light. The only thing that could make this moment better would be a steaming cup of coffee by my side. Alas having been spoiled so recently by the Keurig coffee machine at work, more specifically Timothy's Italian Blend, the folgers sitting solitary in my fridge lacks the same temptation.
Golden sunlight skims across the tops of the trees and pours itself like liquid gold across the darkness of my hardwood floors filling the house with its soft translucent light. The only thing that could make this moment better would be a steaming cup of coffee by my side. Alas having been spoiled so recently by the Keurig coffee machine at work, more specifically Timothy's Italian Blend, the folgers sitting solitary in my fridge lacks the same temptation.
The Unsuspecting Unexpected
Sometimes I like to send unexpected emails to unsuspecting people. Emails that make odd statements. Statements that are often meaningless and untrue. For example, "I want to be a ninja," was a message I sent last week. But I don't really want to be a ninja. I'm just not hardwired for violence that way.
But what I like best is when those unsuspecting people who read my unexpected emails write back... Today's response, "So do you still want to be a ninja?" received yet another unexpected reply.
"No. Today I feel my true calling would be handing out turkey legs at a Renaissance Fair."
And this my friends is why even when I'm in the most foul of moods, I can still make time to laugh.
But what I like best is when those unsuspecting people who read my unexpected emails write back... Today's response, "So do you still want to be a ninja?" received yet another unexpected reply.
"No. Today I feel my true calling would be handing out turkey legs at a Renaissance Fair."
And this my friends is why even when I'm in the most foul of moods, I can still make time to laugh.
Insomnia
The inability to sleep when your eyes really want to close. Or the consequence of going to bed at 8:30 at night.
I'd say more but there is a bedroom ceiling I've got to get back to staring at.
I'd say more but there is a bedroom ceiling I've got to get back to staring at.
An Imaginary Life
The exactness of what he said I can't remember.
Something along the lines of a suggestion. (As if he were anyone to be making any that might make sense.)
"Get your head out of the books," he said. "Go out and live a life."
I should have said the first thing that came to mind... But I held the truth from tripping across my tongue.
Instead I replied, "Make believe people are nicer."
I saved him the reason behind my words. Things he might understand. Like make believe people don't insist you drink vodka. Or try to douse your reason with wine. Or leave you without a word after you've become used to having them around. Or pretend to be your friend when they've already proven that they're not.
Maybe my books are indeed the better place to be... It seems there isn't a man alive - at least not in my life - who knows how to be a man.
Something along the lines of a suggestion. (As if he were anyone to be making any that might make sense.)
"Get your head out of the books," he said. "Go out and live a life."
I should have said the first thing that came to mind... But I held the truth from tripping across my tongue.
Instead I replied, "Make believe people are nicer."
I saved him the reason behind my words. Things he might understand. Like make believe people don't insist you drink vodka. Or try to douse your reason with wine. Or leave you without a word after you've become used to having them around. Or pretend to be your friend when they've already proven that they're not.
Maybe my books are indeed the better place to be... It seems there isn't a man alive - at least not in my life - who knows how to be a man.
Not Yet the New Year
It's getting close to the time to start thinking of my new New Year's resolutions list. And though I do wait until the absolute last minute to write them, I do like to be pragmatic in how I list them. Categories in my case are quite useful. Things I'm bound to do, things I'd like to do but won't and things on my list simply because without them my list just wouldn't be politically correct.
I am not however ready to write my list right now. It's just not too last minute to do it just yet. So practice your patience because your waiting has just begun.
I am not however ready to write my list right now. It's just not too last minute to do it just yet. So practice your patience because your waiting has just begun.
KC's Gift Exchange
Seeming as I've already proven time and time again that sitting across the room in opposite chairs trying to do the right thing doesn't work when it comes to my experiences with men and my inability to stay on the other side of the room, it can be no surprise that when my daughter invited her little teenage boyfriend over last night to exchange gifts for Christmas, I was quite beside myself.
Shuttled off upstairs politely within minutes of his arrival, it was all I could do to not keep going back downstairs for little odds and ends reasons to keep an eye on things. So I settled for making noise upstairs, sitting on the stairs, running down the stairs in false pretense to use the bathroom, a desperate need to make hot chocolate and of course just a quick peek to check on the dogs. In other words, privacy be damned. I trust no man nor boy in this house.
Perhaps however my daughter is smarter than her Mother who thinks with emotions first only to follow it up quite after the fact with logic rather than when that logic would be put to better use. That being said, the time has come to have the talk of all talks. I may not be able to stop time and my little gutsy girl is going to keep growing up regardless of my desire to have her stay my wee babe forever but I can lay out a working plan for her to be able to date and for me not to lose my mind. Maybe.
Shuttled off upstairs politely within minutes of his arrival, it was all I could do to not keep going back downstairs for little odds and ends reasons to keep an eye on things. So I settled for making noise upstairs, sitting on the stairs, running down the stairs in false pretense to use the bathroom, a desperate need to make hot chocolate and of course just a quick peek to check on the dogs. In other words, privacy be damned. I trust no man nor boy in this house.
Perhaps however my daughter is smarter than her Mother who thinks with emotions first only to follow it up quite after the fact with logic rather than when that logic would be put to better use. That being said, the time has come to have the talk of all talks. I may not be able to stop time and my little gutsy girl is going to keep growing up regardless of my desire to have her stay my wee babe forever but I can lay out a working plan for her to be able to date and for me not to lose my mind. Maybe.
Keeping Unwanted Company At Bay While Keeping Your Heating Bills Down
The fact that it's cold in my house is neither new or noteworthy. It is however a good reason to make a cup of coffee and snuggle up inside a sweater and wish with all my heart that spring or better yet summer were closer to being back than the winter which always seems to last too long.
I am however a miser living with rules that consist of not turning the heat on until November first and shutting the heat down no later than the start of April regardless of whether or not there still might be a hint of snow on the ground. My answer to the chill? Find a sweater and your socks and carry a blanket with you at all times. Warmth need not be elusive if certain measures can be made to keep you warm.
I am however a miser living with rules that consist of not turning the heat on until November first and shutting the heat down no later than the start of April regardless of whether or not there still might be a hint of snow on the ground. My answer to the chill? Find a sweater and your socks and carry a blanket with you at all times. Warmth need not be elusive if certain measures can be made to keep you warm.
Laughing In Her Sleep
She sees right through me... Gives me a hint of a smile, raising her eyebrows as if she had a question to ask rather than just to mimic the moves I make. She sees right through me and I search her eyes hopeful to see if any part of her remembers me and knows I'm there. I hold her hand and brush a kiss against her cheek, trying not to cry even as the tears steam down my face.
It breaks my heart to see her so helpless. Unable to do more than sit in her chair and wait. Wait to be moved from one spot to another, wait to be wheeled down to the dining room for dinner, wait to be wheeled back to be put to bed for the night. She's so tiny and frail... Too small to be the formidable woman I've always known her to be. My Grams... Dangerous with a cane, quick with words and independent to her core. Too much of everything to be reduced so dramatically before my eyes.
Grieving is a process that starts long before the body stops. My Mother has been grieving for months... And I know that a week just isn't long enough to help lift the sorrow from her shoulders, for me to remember every last line on my Grandma's face...
And so she sleeps... Sometimes muttering in a language that is all her own until she smiles and laughs deep in sleep, far away in dreams.
It breaks my heart to see her so helpless. Unable to do more than sit in her chair and wait. Wait to be moved from one spot to another, wait to be wheeled down to the dining room for dinner, wait to be wheeled back to be put to bed for the night. She's so tiny and frail... Too small to be the formidable woman I've always known her to be. My Grams... Dangerous with a cane, quick with words and independent to her core. Too much of everything to be reduced so dramatically before my eyes.
Grieving is a process that starts long before the body stops. My Mother has been grieving for months... And I know that a week just isn't long enough to help lift the sorrow from her shoulders, for me to remember every last line on my Grandma's face...
And so she sleeps... Sometimes muttering in a language that is all her own until she smiles and laughs deep in sleep, far away in dreams.
The Urge to Purge
I really need to schedule an appointment with one of those white coated people... As much as I dread the very thought of it, the simple fact that I haven't had one day in the past few weeks that hasn't consisted of feeling like I need to vomit every other second pretty much makes the decision almost easy. And let's be honest, WebMD only gives you about a million and one life threatening options to worry yourself silly over. So maybe this week I'll actually pick up the phone and make a call. Maybe.
