Why do people keep posting comments to Mary's and Cornishia's FB page. Oddly it makes me feel good that people talk to Mary but it feels weird seeing posts to Cornishia's page. Why is that? Both are gone from this earth. On to another place. No one knows where. And if they tell you they do know where, then they are lying. Because they haven't died and come back. no one has.
I'm so confused. Too much wine.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
bracelets
I am wearing the bracelet that Mary had on her arm before they cremated her. It was the last thing she had on her body. I assume they did not have her clothes on since they did an autopsy on her. I have not taken it off since I got it. They actually called me and asked if I wanted to keep it or leave it on her. It's Rachael's bracelet. I hope they are together up there. They never met in our life time. I think they would have liked each other.
oh my
Ok. So, I'm drinking wine and I can't see straight. I found a wine that I like. You can't imagine how many times I have hit the back button to type correctly. I can't type when I have a bottle of wine in me. Yes, I did. I drank a WHOLE bottle fo wine and I amt typing about 5 words aminute. it makes the paine clearer. I miss mary so much.......
Idon't do this often. I'm typtig blind.
bye
Idon't do this often. I'm typtig blind.
bye
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
What about us?
I just read part of an article written by a family member about a little boy who donated his organs. I couldn't read it all so I'm not sure who wrote it. The only thing I selfishly felt was "what about all of us who wanted to donate our loved ones but couldn't?". I tried so hard to do that. Got REALLY pissed at the county coroner because he never called us back to tell us whether we could donate anything. Then by the time the police finally got in touch with him it was too late anyway. Even if he KNEW it couldn't be done he could have had a little compassion and answered his #$&#$ cell phone.
It just makes me hate HIM even more. I believe it would have helped knowing Mary had been able to do what she preached to others. If wishes were horses then beggars could fly. OR something like that.
It just makes me hate HIM even more. I believe it would have helped knowing Mary had been able to do what she preached to others. If wishes were horses then beggars could fly. OR something like that.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
When am I going to Pop?
I feel like a pimple ready to pop. Or a flower ready to bloom, or maybe a volcano ready to explode. Not sure which. I would hope it could be the flower. I am back in the mood to create art work again. Not sure why. When I packed up all my paraphernalia downstairs I truly thought I had lost my ummph or else I had no talent and just decided to accept that fact. At any rate, I'm in the mood to do something again, try something, anything. I'm fairly certain I'll be terrible (hence the pimple picture), I'm hoping something good will escape me (that's the flower), but I'm positive if I don't do SOMETHING I will explode like a volcano and destroy everything and body in my path.
Life just hasn't turned out quite like I pictured in back when I was twenty something. But, then who's life has. I've looked at each decade after my 10th birthday (don't remember much before then) and something terrible has happened in each one. This decade has been the worst for obvious reasons. And yet I'm still alive and breathing. I wonder why? Truly I do. Life doesn't revolve around me but it doesn't revolve around anyone. It just revolves. So hang on tight!
I wish to be free of pain and suffering and worry and fear. I wish to be free to just exist and do what I want to do. I wish not to cry at the drop of a pin, not to feel sad when I see an ambulance go by or pictures of starving babies. I wish not to hate those that need to be hated or despise those who take advantage of helpless people. I guess I wish to live in a perfect world. If wishes were horses then I (the beggar) would fly. I could go on and on about what I wish but if it was possible then I wouldn't have a family. They are the ones I worry over and fear for their pains and suffering. So, I accept the bad with the good.
Is the person we are, from day to day, the result of our life's trials or the result of how we handle those trials? Not easy to answer. I am still amazed that "life changing events" (good or bad) don't always change people's lives. They have certainly changed mine. Maybe there is more to heredity than environment that we think.
Maybe I don't know who I am yet. I am not the person I was 10 years ago or 20 or 30. I know we are all evolving through out our lives. But where's the road map?
I'm not a pimple or a flower or a volcano. I'm a freakin' runaway train on an unfinished track....And I know not when the track runs out. Now Christian's would say that God is the engineer. I say there IS no engineer. None... zip.... nada... I just keep walking through my days waiting for the crash.
Ah, yes, back that word... CRASH. All of the pictures I have hung in the living room are of Mary. So beautiful, calm, motionless, museum like pictures. When the bad memories start to work their way into my thoughts I forcefully push them out. I'm getting pretty good at it. It's kinda like lying to yourself. If you keep busy enough your worries get pushed out. Until they slap you in the face. Then you have to concentrate on them.
Mary, Mary, my sweet Mary. Each time I walk into or out of a store I remember walking with Mary holding hands, swinging them between us by our sides. I see lots of other mother's and daughters doing that. And we've done this her whole life, not just when she was little. (Here's my problem. I just changed "we did this" to "we've done this" because I didn't want it to be past tense. I still can't accept the facts and now I'm crying. This is what I get myself into when I write.)
BYE
Life just hasn't turned out quite like I pictured in back when I was twenty something. But, then who's life has. I've looked at each decade after my 10th birthday (don't remember much before then) and something terrible has happened in each one. This decade has been the worst for obvious reasons. And yet I'm still alive and breathing. I wonder why? Truly I do. Life doesn't revolve around me but it doesn't revolve around anyone. It just revolves. So hang on tight!
I wish to be free of pain and suffering and worry and fear. I wish to be free to just exist and do what I want to do. I wish not to cry at the drop of a pin, not to feel sad when I see an ambulance go by or pictures of starving babies. I wish not to hate those that need to be hated or despise those who take advantage of helpless people. I guess I wish to live in a perfect world. If wishes were horses then I (the beggar) would fly. I could go on and on about what I wish but if it was possible then I wouldn't have a family. They are the ones I worry over and fear for their pains and suffering. So, I accept the bad with the good.
Is the person we are, from day to day, the result of our life's trials or the result of how we handle those trials? Not easy to answer. I am still amazed that "life changing events" (good or bad) don't always change people's lives. They have certainly changed mine. Maybe there is more to heredity than environment that we think.
Maybe I don't know who I am yet. I am not the person I was 10 years ago or 20 or 30. I know we are all evolving through out our lives. But where's the road map?
I'm not a pimple or a flower or a volcano. I'm a freakin' runaway train on an unfinished track....And I know not when the track runs out. Now Christian's would say that God is the engineer. I say there IS no engineer. None... zip.... nada... I just keep walking through my days waiting for the crash.
Ah, yes, back that word... CRASH. All of the pictures I have hung in the living room are of Mary. So beautiful, calm, motionless, museum like pictures. When the bad memories start to work their way into my thoughts I forcefully push them out. I'm getting pretty good at it. It's kinda like lying to yourself. If you keep busy enough your worries get pushed out. Until they slap you in the face. Then you have to concentrate on them.
Mary, Mary, my sweet Mary. Each time I walk into or out of a store I remember walking with Mary holding hands, swinging them between us by our sides. I see lots of other mother's and daughters doing that. And we've done this her whole life, not just when she was little. (Here's my problem. I just changed "we did this" to "we've done this" because I didn't want it to be past tense. I still can't accept the facts and now I'm crying. This is what I get myself into when I write.)
BYE
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
What's the matter with me?
I'm beginning to think I'm the one who's bipolar in this household. I have been swinging back and forth between wanting to start writing more poems and songs, start back with my art work, take classes, read more books and just totally sitting and doing nothing at all - like veg out until further notice. I feel like I'm exploding or imploding. A pendulum swinging between a rock and a hard place is my life. When I used to get in the "gotta do it all mood" I'd start cleaning the house from top to bottom. Music blaring and the rhythm moving me along, sun shining, fresh air, I had energy to boot. But I haven't felt that way in a long time. But over the last few weeks it's been coming back. Until tonight. Until about an hour ago. Very weird.
Like a balloon collapsing when it's let go to fly in the air I crashed. I suddenly didn't feel I had anything to offer the world. My skin doesn't fit my bones anymore. I'm looking around in circles to find an anchor or a vision.
Why is it when I finally think I'm making my way out of the surf and up the beach I get side swiped by the sand. Damn stuff's hard to walk in and it gets in my eyes and mouth.
I was really feeling good these last few days. I even told Tony I was doing better hoping it would help him not to worry about me any more and start smiling. Maybe it was something that was said at Danny's check up today. I mentioned that there were quite a few people in the hospital waiting for a heart with type A blood. Danny will have a longer wait. Neile said that they were all different sizes and shapes. In the back of my mind I realized that if they all were bigger than Danny, or shorter and rounder, he would still have a chance of getting a heart even with others waiting. So.....maybe I shouldn't go on this trip to Canada. I'm so confused, conflicted, going crazy.
Like a balloon collapsing when it's let go to fly in the air I crashed. I suddenly didn't feel I had anything to offer the world. My skin doesn't fit my bones anymore. I'm looking around in circles to find an anchor or a vision.
Why is it when I finally think I'm making my way out of the surf and up the beach I get side swiped by the sand. Damn stuff's hard to walk in and it gets in my eyes and mouth.
I was really feeling good these last few days. I even told Tony I was doing better hoping it would help him not to worry about me any more and start smiling. Maybe it was something that was said at Danny's check up today. I mentioned that there were quite a few people in the hospital waiting for a heart with type A blood. Danny will have a longer wait. Neile said that they were all different sizes and shapes. In the back of my mind I realized that if they all were bigger than Danny, or shorter and rounder, he would still have a chance of getting a heart even with others waiting. So.....maybe I shouldn't go on this trip to Canada. I'm so confused, conflicted, going crazy.
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