The past two yesterdays.
Overwhelmed with a sense of dread brought on by this severe loneliness, I decided to check on an old flame. First, I would look at my last sent email to learn the status, and was surprised to discover it was still unread. Later, during the night when I could not sleep, fear gripped me and I did the unimaginable... an Internet search; and there it was, his obituary. Been grieving ever since, been remembering ever since, been fantasizing about what could have been had he been able to accomplish his goals and then come for me... and this new grief is now mingled with the horrid season that reminds me of those I have lost: my son and dad, with the anniversary of my dad's death in just a few days.
My momma.
As previously mentioned, she loved Mister Lench's story and I created that special edition just for her. It has been awhile since we talked because it is no easy task to reach her in the nursing home, but I decided to give it another try very early in the morning, the same morning I learned Henry was dead. We talked and she sounded fairly good, except for her disturbing insistence that Dad is still alive and living in some house, somewhere unknown, with some strange other woman. This time, I bravely asked why she prefers to think ill of him instead of accepting he is gone, and I believe she paused for a split second but that split second was shortened when she once again insisted "he is not dead."
Last night, I was shocked to learn the nursing home allowed her to fall, and she has a cut on her head. She was transported to the hospital and no family member, no friend, was there. The nurse refused to give me any information about her condition, saying I was not listed as a family member so she could not respond to my very simple question: "How is my mother?"
I did not sleep well yet again, trying with all my might not to lose my sanity while struggling with the darkness and emptiness of the small space allotted for what could be the last days of my own existence, and replaying in my mind how this is the very same hospital that allowed my son to bleed to death... the last place she saw him, embraced him, and was covered with his blood.
I do not know if she knows where she is. I do not know anything about her condition. I do not know... I do not know... I do not know. And I thoroughly detest not knowing.
Mister Lench's storybook is somewhat ready to ship to her, but now I must wait until I am permitted to know that she will be able to embrace and read it. Waiting to know... the older you become, the more painful waiting in the dark, in utter silence, becomes. And I am breaking.
So, my dear Mister Robert Lench, you will be shelved to accumulate theoretical dust as my other creations and once considered divinely-inspired works of imaginary art. Clearly, your story is not one that others can read and not put down, considering others take a peek or a taste but have no desire to complete.
You were meant for my mother's eyes only, and so we both are forced to wait until the knowing comes that says she is okay.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Monday, December 2, 2013
What A Journey, and I Do Not Understand How or Why I Have Survived
Another year is logged into the past and yet the pain is ever-present, and I dread facing another.
I planned to leave to end the pain, but was [am] constrained by concern for others. In the meantime, I penned another book I know was given to me to share with others. This one is a fantasy fiction for teens and young adults, and dedicated to my dear grandmother, Emma Danley Johnson, who had an admirable passion for books but not allowed more than a sixth-grade education.
My mother, who is imprisoned in a nursing home, also loves books and always wanted to write but never fulfilled her dream. I read this to her each step along the way and she loved it, asking, "When will I get a copy?" With that indirect request, I accepted the task of designing/creating a special edition just for her. My hope, my fervent prayer, is that she will be alive to hold and read it several times over before she leaves me; and that she will be proud of her old daughter. It arrives this week, much sooner than expected.
I do not plan to pursue publishing it without positive feedback, as I received for "The Land of Buttons and Bows." That book has been set aside because it turned into a nightmare to find and secure a committed illustrator, as well as a sudden/drastic change in my income. Only God knows what is ahead for that project, and me. For now, I focus on completing tasks instead of hoping foolishly, as I've done throughout my much-too-long existence.
I planned to leave to end the pain, but was [am] constrained by concern for others. In the meantime, I penned another book I know was given to me to share with others. This one is a fantasy fiction for teens and young adults, and dedicated to my dear grandmother, Emma Danley Johnson, who had an admirable passion for books but not allowed more than a sixth-grade education.
My mother, who is imprisoned in a nursing home, also loves books and always wanted to write but never fulfilled her dream. I read this to her each step along the way and she loved it, asking, "When will I get a copy?" With that indirect request, I accepted the task of designing/creating a special edition just for her. My hope, my fervent prayer, is that she will be alive to hold and read it several times over before she leaves me; and that she will be proud of her old daughter. It arrives this week, much sooner than expected.
I do not plan to pursue publishing it without positive feedback, as I received for "The Land of Buttons and Bows." That book has been set aside because it turned into a nightmare to find and secure a committed illustrator, as well as a sudden/drastic change in my income. Only God knows what is ahead for that project, and me. For now, I focus on completing tasks instead of hoping foolishly, as I've done throughout my much-too-long existence.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
FUN! I Had Forgotten What That Word Meant
Friday, just as I was about to devour a late breakfast at my desk, I was surprised with an invitation to a Luncheon & Fashion Show. It was dubbed a "kidnapping" by the executive office which was too funny, oh so welcomed, and very much appreciated.
I did not feel properly dressed in my black uniform but made the best of it, while trying not to focus too much on where I was. Was not an easy task because most were more appropriately dressed but I was blessed because the ladies in the executive office made me feel very comfortable. For the first time in a very long time, I felt like "one of the girls." And that is saying far more than you can imagine, considering I have always been a loner.
The tables were lovely; and the food superb which is a major understatement.
I did not feel properly dressed in my black uniform but made the best of it, while trying not to focus too much on where I was. Was not an easy task because most were more appropriately dressed but I was blessed because the ladies in the executive office made me feel very comfortable. For the first time in a very long time, I felt like "one of the girls." And that is saying far more than you can imagine, considering I have always been a loner.
The tables were lovely; and the food superb which is a major understatement.
- Autumn Gold Pumpkin Soup (YUMMM)
- Filet Mignon of Beef (cooked to perfection!)
- Colorado Red Mountain Trout (moist and not overly seasoned)
- Klondike Potato Pave (a curiosity for the eye but oh-so-gooooood)
- Belgian Chocolate DECADENCE (the caps coincide with the taste not what was printed. lol)*
*I was a, um, good girl with the dessert, though. I left over half of it on the plate but wished I could have indulged to the delight of my taste buds. They, each and every one, would have thanked me but oh well. Luckily, my brain cells recorded every morsel. In case you are wondering, yes, there was something green and healthy: steamed green beans that still tasted like green beans!
Okay, to more serious matters.
I learned about the organization, Newborn Hope, and their mission coated my old heart with joy and also some sadness while looking at the infants and children. I miss my son so much. Prompted by my love for him and wanting to give back, I made a small donation in his memory. My little 7 lb 11 oz/21" Gerber baby twin became a hero when he placed himself in the path of a bullet to save the life of a nine-month-old boy and his young mother. So, it was fitting, don't you think? Oh, and I hope you consider helping their cause. It is worthwhile.
FASHION SHOW!
This is when the FUN began and I found myself thrown back into my element. The child models were outrageously delightful and, yes, I still had to fight back tears but they were so much fun to watch. Their antics and even mishaps were refreshing. But I wanted to see the adult fashions, as well as the models to check out their runway presence.
My Element
Once a fashion designer (couturier) and modeling instructor, my critique was on, y'all! :-) Oh, how I miss those days. I started designing and sewing when I was 9, learning all I could from my mother who would later declare to many that I had stolen 75% of her brain which later increased to 90%. She is so funny.
But every second of the fashion presentation seemed to give me wings as I was lifted, removed from my present circumstances to where that dream was still vibrant. I was surprised at how alive it was, and I was eager to move into the weekend so I could design some fabric for a dress design that swirled and swirled in my mind, during the show. I started the fabric design but was disappointed that Adobe Photoshop Elements does not allow one to create more than about two yards at a time. But I am determined to come up with a solution. If I don't, that darn design will haunt me until I do!
I took the opportunity to absorb, to holistically breathe in every moment of the time gifted there. Then it hit me, and hit me hard . . .
I HAD FUN! I HAD FUN! I HAD FUN!
The tears began to flow and I was excited... another strange feeling! I cannot recall the last time I had FUN and was so excited about anything. Well, I am excited about the children's book, but that has yet to come to fruition. There is still so much work and I still do not have a team to help me; but, as I stated, I refuse to ask anyone in my circle of influence again. Nnnnope!
But this event was right here in the now and that was amazing! And a feeling I will embrace for as long as I can, as long as I am allowed.
THANK YOU, LORD! And thank you, Susan, for kidnapping me. :-)
Monday, November 5, 2012
Looping and Writing from Pain to Passion...Part II
So, it is Monday evening--again. Loneliness and silence after hours of stress and waste...again. DARN, is it November 5, 2012 or September 5, 2011? Feels exactly the same with another Tuesday to face and waste for someone else who could care less about me as ME...I just need to show up and do another day's work until yet another Friday that feels as if I'm in the Twilight Zone or some crazy Stephen King story. Looping.
Then again, I have been given a story that has demanded to be written but, most important, shared. It has become a mission and my motivation to keep moving forward and not give up/give in to the anguish of losses and loneliness. God knew.
Wish I knew where the journey was taking me. Odd path, that it is, especially now that I've been given a glimpse of the second part of the story; namely, Book 2.
Oh, and my application for the trademark has reached phase 2. How ironic! lol
However, there is much more work to do on book one, so I am making notes and keeping my ears open and toward the still small voice for guidance.
Back to Jaie.
During our heart-to-heart, what was fiercely expressed through Spirit is that one must follow their dream, their passion. To do otherwise brings dis-ease. It is as if the physical body attacks itself as if to say "you have separated this self from the whole of you, so we are not fed...we die." The ever-increasing stress has [and is] taking its toll on us. I sense that, somewhere along this new path, my healing will come and I encouraged Jaie by insisting that she "must write." That is her passion and she has neglected it for far too long.
Through the years, both of us were bombarded with voices insisting that we should do this or do that. The voices meant well, and I know that having so many gifts and talents is puzzling to them because they could not [cannot] fathom why we are not flourishing in at least one of them. In an odd way, those voices rang and ring with the same cadence as a mob of Job's well-meaning friends. I wonder what would have happened if those voices would have stopped and listened to the Greater Still Small Voice. Most assuredly they would have heard something like "shhhhh...ask them to open their ear to Me." Hmmm...come to think of it, the echoes of their full of good intention voices probably blocked the GSSV. Heck, I can still hear those voices sometimes and it has been the source of much confusion and anger in my life, and probably for Jaie. But for me, the voices are ghostly whispers now.
Maybe the loneliness, the unwanted aloneness, has created a power to silence those voices so I could hear [one early morning] "The Land of Buttons and Bows" that the journey would begin. So it did.
My prayer for dear Jaie is that somehow the power manifests for her that will silence those voices so she, too, will awaken one morning to hear the GSSV and her journey begins.
Healing for us both, I pray. And if this bit resonates with you, I pray the same for you.
Then again, I have been given a story that has demanded to be written but, most important, shared. It has become a mission and my motivation to keep moving forward and not give up/give in to the anguish of losses and loneliness. God knew.
Wish I knew where the journey was taking me. Odd path, that it is, especially now that I've been given a glimpse of the second part of the story; namely, Book 2.
Oh, and my application for the trademark has reached phase 2. How ironic! lol
However, there is much more work to do on book one, so I am making notes and keeping my ears open and toward the still small voice for guidance.
Back to Jaie.
During our heart-to-heart, what was fiercely expressed through Spirit is that one must follow their dream, their passion. To do otherwise brings dis-ease. It is as if the physical body attacks itself as if to say "you have separated this self from the whole of you, so we are not fed...we die." The ever-increasing stress has [and is] taking its toll on us. I sense that, somewhere along this new path, my healing will come and I encouraged Jaie by insisting that she "must write." That is her passion and she has neglected it for far too long.
Through the years, both of us were bombarded with voices insisting that we should do this or do that. The voices meant well, and I know that having so many gifts and talents is puzzling to them because they could not [cannot] fathom why we are not flourishing in at least one of them. In an odd way, those voices rang and ring with the same cadence as a mob of Job's well-meaning friends. I wonder what would have happened if those voices would have stopped and listened to the Greater Still Small Voice. Most assuredly they would have heard something like "shhhhh...ask them to open their ear to Me." Hmmm...come to think of it, the echoes of their full of good intention voices probably blocked the GSSV. Heck, I can still hear those voices sometimes and it has been the source of much confusion and anger in my life, and probably for Jaie. But for me, the voices are ghostly whispers now.
Maybe the loneliness, the unwanted aloneness, has created a power to silence those voices so I could hear [one early morning] "The Land of Buttons and Bows" that the journey would begin. So it did.
My prayer for dear Jaie is that somehow the power manifests for her that will silence those voices so she, too, will awaken one morning to hear the GSSV and her journey begins.
Healing for us both, I pray. And if this bit resonates with you, I pray the same for you.
Looping and Writing from Pain to Passion
It is Monday morning and, once again, I have started the dreaded "loop" of another week of work but now making the valiant attempt to squeeze in what I truly enjoy--writing. Well, one of many creative passions, that is. Now, however, has been the season to write, to be open to what demands to be written: THE LAND OF BUTTONS AND BOWS.
Yesterday, I enjoyed a wonderful and enlightening conversation with an old friend who lives on the east coast. Jaie. An exceptionally brilliant person, wife, and mother who is now suffering with an illness that is attempting to sap the life out of her. But she is not a quitter and will do what she must to heal.
Yesterday, I enjoyed a wonderful and enlightening conversation with an old friend who lives on the east coast. Jaie. An exceptionally brilliant person, wife, and mother who is now suffering with an illness that is attempting to sap the life out of her. But she is not a quitter and will do what she must to heal.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Never again
The Silence has taught me never to ask for help from another soul in my circle of influence ever again.
It's just Him and me, and I WILL-CAN DO this project.
IF there are others ordained to assist me, then they will come forward on their own or I will solicit help from strangers and pay them their due.
For whatever the reasons, I was never blessed with a genuine support system, which puzzled my doctors. Heck, when they made that assessment after hours and hours of consultations, that fact shook me but I saw it...all of it. I was always expected to be their for others, even when my baby was killed. There was no comfort, just the demand to comfort others who were affected.
Lord, what do we do next? And I will leave the "how" to You.
Back to bed...the alarm goes off in just a few short hours.
It's just Him and me, and I WILL-CAN DO this project.
IF there are others ordained to assist me, then they will come forward on their own or I will solicit help from strangers and pay them their due.
For whatever the reasons, I was never blessed with a genuine support system, which puzzled my doctors. Heck, when they made that assessment after hours and hours of consultations, that fact shook me but I saw it...all of it. I was always expected to be their for others, even when my baby was killed. There was no comfort, just the demand to comfort others who were affected.
Lord, what do we do next? And I will leave the "how" to You.
Back to bed...the alarm goes off in just a few short hours.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Another challenging day
The weekend was somewhat stressful with concerns about my mother, cousin, other family members, and my illustrator, Robert Sauber, and his family. SANDY's rage up the eastern seaboard has definitely wreaked more havoc than I first imagined. Power outages and flooding are my major concern because I know they all have enough sense not to be out and about in the storm as if it were just another thunderstorm. I have yet to hear from anyone and that can be either good or bad news. The stress beat me down yesterday so I did not make it to work, but cannot afford another day in so I am preparing for work, ready or not.
My other stressor is the reaction or lack thereof when those I know read the manuscript.
SILENCE... DEAD SILENCE. Neither yay nor nay, just nothing.
Since this is HIS book and not mine, I need to focus on leaving it all in His Hands, because this is one puzzle I cannot put together. I will just need to rely on those who gave me positive feedback and loads of encouragement. :-)
Tuesday, here I am!
My other stressor is the reaction or lack thereof when those I know read the manuscript.
SILENCE... DEAD SILENCE. Neither yay nor nay, just nothing.
Since this is HIS book and not mine, I need to focus on leaving it all in His Hands, because this is one puzzle I cannot put together. I will just need to rely on those who gave me positive feedback and loads of encouragement. :-)
Tuesday, here I am!
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