Sunday, September 16, 2012

Just One Difficult Day

Today was a surprisingly difficult today. I suppose it shouldn't be all that surprising, considering the date. But, I wasn't expecting it to be quite this difficult. And I have no right for it to be so. I blame church. Ok, it really isn't church's fault (that I know of), but it sounded like a good thing to blame it on - especially considering how much I have gone to church recently.

Anyway, it all started today when I woke up. That sounds like a good time for a day to start sucking. But, it really wasn't right away - it took an hour or so for the suckiness to begin. I awoke, got myself some coffee, and jumped in the shower. I woke up my daughters because we had planned on attending service at the ELC. 9am. Who has church at 9am? Ungodly. Seriously.

Anyway, after I got finished getting ready and was awaiting the clock to fast-forward to 8:30, I started up my laptop. And saw the date. I was immediately flooded with memories of a little blond boy's smile. Today is the third anniversary of Matthew's death. I immediately felt the tears spring to my eyes. Pushing them back, Caity and I took off to church. I could do this. I have no right to get so emotional anyway.

Nearing the end of the service, during a prayer, I once again feel the tears spring to life, one escaping and forging a path down my cheek. I brush it away and struggle to make it through the rest of the service. Once finished, and everyone has cleared out, I sneak back in, settling myself in the back corner of the last pew and allow the tears to flow. But only for a few moments. I really don't have the right to be crying so much.

I go home, then off to another church service. This one was a little easier to keep the tears at bay. But, I really didn't want to be at this service. I had already been to one. But, I wanted to be there for my mother-in-law. She had to leave again today to go be with dad. So, we make it through the service, then Caity and I go home to eat lunch. We then gather the rest of the kids and go back to mom's to say our goodbyes.

And of course, no sooner had we made it there than the grandma-stealing wench sent her kid over. That's a whole other story we won't go into. But basically, I felt replaced, unappreciated, kicked out, and generally took it all quite personally. Upon getting home, and complaining about this, and breaking down into tears (again), my husband wants to confront his mother because I'm hurting. That's not what I wanted. Why do men feel the need to fix things? There's nothing to fix here. I just wanted to bitch and complain and cry. Then he accuses me of hiding the fact that its the third anniversary of my brother's death. No... wasn't hiding anything. Just didn't come up... "Good morning. My brother died three years ago today." Yeah, just not how I do things.

Anyway, the day basically continued like this - me almost crying, then clearing my head, then laughing with the kids. I went along with Alex and Caity to the MYG meeting. I'd really like to get more involved with that... but well, not really sure that will really happen. Another long story that I'll keep to myself. But, that meeting is well over now, and the kids are all heading off to bed, and I'm sitting here still feeling sorry for myself, whether I have the right to or not.

Why wouldn't I have this right? Because I left. Because I hadn't had any communication with my baby brother in 15 years. The last time I saw him was April of 1994. He died September 16, 2009. True, it wasn't really my fault that I didn't know him, or see him. But that doesn't mean I have the right to hurt this much, or miss him this much. There are others who knew him so much more than I... others who have the right to hurt, and are hurting.

So yeah, it's been one hell of a difficult day. Luckily, it's almost done.

Thursday, September 13, 2012

A Few Poems


They speak to me.
Few believe this, yet it's true -
The voices
They sing and cry
and laugh and speak
to me.
It's like the chirping
of birds or crickets
or like ants marching
or spiders weaving.
It's quiet yet insanely
It's still yet insanely
I wish someone else could feel it
Sense it
believe in it.

Beyond Reach

He's there
Just beyond reach
I can feel him
Sense him
Almost see him
His eyes reflect dreams
His whispers are promises
His form is strong and comforting
He has the power
to absorb my tears
and still the quaking
But each time I reach
Out a hesitant hand
He's gone
A wisp of fog
Beyond reach. 


It surrounds

She feels it
Or rather
feels nothing.

No dreams
No tears
Her smile lost
in nothingness.

No anger
No fears
Her wit consumed
in nothingness.

No light
No dark
No shadows

No pain
No sorrow


The breeze whispers through the dying day
cool, crisp, slipping beneath the skin
flesh trembles, quivers, arms snaking around
arms to warm the body.

The sun rests just above the horizon
created shadows looming, lurking, waiting
bodies tremble, quiver, arms enveloping
arms to quiet the soul.

An eeriness slips in, slithering around the unexpected
minds racing, seeing, hearing, what isn't there
flesh trembles, quivers, arms caressing
arms to silence the mind.