I awoke in the middle of the night thinking of the border that ran across as a border in my Mom's bedroom. I still consider that room as her's since she had lived with me for so many years prior to living in the nursing home. When my Dad died in 1989, my Mom came to live with us. A family of four became a family of five for many years. There had been a lot of changes over the years including moving to South Carolina in 1990. We bought a house that had 3 bedrooms. The master bedroom to the rear of the house was for me and my husband, the bedroom to the front of the house was my son's and the bedroom to the side was designated as my Mom's and Daughter to share. When our Daughter arrived at her teen years, we noticed a strain on the Granddaughter/Grandmother relationship and decided to make other accommodations to suite them both. Since at the time, we didn't have a dining room set, our dining room on the lower level became a perfect bedroom for our son. We closed off the wide entry into the room and hung a door for privacy. The newest decor at the time was sponge painting which I did in the colors of his choosing and he made it his new hangout. Our Daughter finally had her own bedroom which was repainted in teal and quilt and curtains to match. She also put her little touches of individuality on her new bedroom and was able to have her sleepovers with her friends. When it came to Mom's bedroom, I new it had to be special for her. Something to make her relax and enjoy her new private space. We headed out to the craft store to look for the perfect stencil to do a border at the top of her walls. We came across this template stencil of an angel's head that was perfect. I painted all the the walls an off white and standing on a step ladder preceded to start the stenciling. Mom supervised and all the while kept telling me how much she loved it. I was so happy to do this for her seeing the expression on her face. After completing the whole room, we stood back and examined it. After a while, we realized that the Angel would disappear and it turned into an Iris. Then you would look again and it would look like an Angel's head again. We thought that was very cool. Mom's room was complete and she enjoyed catching all the views at the front of the house. She didn't miss much (smiling).
Years later, when our Son and Daughter moved out, I thought Mom might like the larger room that was our Daughter's at the side of the house. She never said she didn't want to move to that room, she just did it. One day she seemed out of sorts and I found her crying. I asked her what was wrong? She said she wanted to go back to her own room that she felt more comfortable there. It was as if I had punished her for taking her out of her room. Once again her face beamed like when we first did the stenciling. She said she missed her Angel border and said she use to count them as she fell asleep. The Angel/Iris border is the same color as the typed words on this page. I've come to realize that through life we find our little comforts in the smallest things that are uniquely our own. Mom's was her Angel/Iris border.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Sunday, September 4, 2011
The Handbook
The Handbook
I was once a child
A child without a handbook
As a child you followed your parents makeshift handbook
I was once a teen
A teen without a handbook
As a teen you again followed your parents makeshift handbook, if you were made to.
I am now an adult
I am forced to make a handbook
As an adult you do as your parents did, create your own handbook.
You begin to realize that even though there are certain guidelines
All handbooks are not created equal.
Handbooks are as individual as the person creating them.
Sooner or later in just about every handbook is a chapter on grieving.
Mainly because someone expects to loose a mother or father, sister or brother, husband or boyfriend, aunt or uncle, cousin or best friend.
Usually it's someone older than you, or at least the same age.
Tragic as it all is, most of the time you some how seem to except it.
But...there is this small chapter in my handbook now that doesn't exist in most.
The loss of a child.
I break down the chapter into individual sections.
First born (carried under my heart for 9 months, his Dad running up and down the hospital corridor dancing)
Namesake of his Dad (the fourth generation)
Doctors visits, bumps and scrapes, shot records.
Preschool, (hanging on my legs not to go, drawings, achievements and conduct reports).
Grade school (peer pressure, style of clothes, dances and crushes)
High School, (tougher subjects struggling to get him graduated, cramming for test, interest in computers, drivers license, prom, girls, still style of clothes and especially hair, graduation).
College, (goals still interested in the computer field, first time on his own, partying, working, creaking an ankle, going through 2 cars, 3 apartments, bad grades and loss of focus, coming back home).
On his own (a couple mediocre jobs, moved out on his own again and begins to focus once again, takes home computer courses online and becomes a Microsoft Certified Professional while holding a full time job in the profession he is qualified for, starts his own business with a partner, has a house built, has a personal relationship with a beautiful girl and her son.
Our Relationship (Let go of treating him like a child as he grew into an adult, found my best friend, we fueled each others imagination on just about every level, our interest in computers (talked back and forth each day, copying and sending to each other), talked on the phone at least 3 times a day, I would say he lives 2 hours away and I know what he had for breakfast, lunch and dinner lol, we shared our interest in his photography, my artwork and would tell the truth on each others outfits and hairstyles lol. Had deep discussions about relationships goals and achievements and once went as far as designing a sign and structure of our own nightclub and did research on how we would to about opening it up lol. He gave me my spark of light and I knew, I mean really knew he loved me.
Hobbies (anything electronic, computers, basketball, photography, fishing, camping, trips to the beach, mountains, cars, shopping (most likely more clothes).
Memorable vacations (many camping trips to Chincateague VA, the beach, trip to grandparents house and the car breaking down and staying in a flea bag hotel waiting for the car to be fixed (him and his sister wearing underwear on their heads so they wouldn't get lice, the whole night laughing ourselves to death before we fell asleep. Thanksgiving at my sisters house in MD, Christmas at his Grandparents in PA)
Most memorable times (His birth, cradling him in my arms all hours of the night looking into his eyes, many nights standing in the bathroom with the shower on hot to steam up the bathroom because he had the croup, his first day of school (it was very devastating to me), his first sleep over, him becoming a safety at school, his first communion, confirmation, graduation from high school, our misunderstandings through the teen years (learning that love can hurt while your helping someone to grow), getting his license, moving into his first apartment, how proud of him I was for him doing it all on his own getting Microsoft Certified, being given an award for helping set up computers for the Red Cross (he called me on his way home to tell me, I can still hear how excited he felt in his voice). And especially all Christmas's shared and Thanksgiving and the boys in the family fighting over the black olives lol.
Last section in my handbook...
How to cope with the loss of a child.
OH MY GOD! IS THERE A GOD? WHERE ARE YOU GOD?
Your handbook has just become very personal and individual (it's like a puzzle where you are the only one that holds the key pieces, but don't know where they go).
Do you realize that during the first stages that are noted in all those books about the loss of the child are not even seen by the person going through it at the time?
You red articles and books later and say to yourself you wished you would of understood the steps earlier (or at least seen them in the light). But the fact is, you stand in the dark alone, at least that is how you feel. You don't think about how others are feeling.
It's a very personal feeling and you don't want to comfort anyone else or see where they are coming from. There are many things that are said and done out of hurt, loss and despair. It's as if a cloak is dropped over your head that is not penetrable by anyone or what is said by them.
Your handbook has many pages, some scribbled on, some torn out. Until you come to the day where you become stronger and start to see that person who you once knew. That person who thought of others before themselves, that compassionate person you felt you always were. You start to look at the grief of others and how your actions may of somehow changed relationships of the ones you truly cared about and loved.
Most of the time, it wasn't about them as much as it was about yourself and especially your less then eager will to live.
I sometimes ask myself now, if I should ask for forgiveness of those I hurt through the blindness of my grieving or forgive them for making me feel another loss in my life by leaving me.
I think I've fond the same answer for both those questions.
The answer is yes, because although we are the keeper and creators of our own handbooks, everyone has completely unique paths they are on and judgement can't be placed on an others pain and direction they are bound to take through God's plan for us.
My lessons learned are my guidelines for a more resourceful handbook in my life. I pray my handbook is written with more compassion, understanding and forgiveness and that God looks over his shoulder and says "She's learned her lesson" and brings back the people in my life that I so dearly love and miss. I understand every season has it's time and when or if the season ever blooms in my direction, I truly will be blessed.
A child without a handbook
As a child you followed your parents makeshift handbook
I was once a teen
A teen without a handbook
As a teen you again followed your parents makeshift handbook, if you were made to.
I am now an adult
I am forced to make a handbook
As an adult you do as your parents did, create your own handbook.
You begin to realize that even though there are certain guidelines
All handbooks are not created equal.
Handbooks are as individual as the person creating them.
Sooner or later in just about every handbook is a chapter on grieving.
Mainly because someone expects to loose a mother or father, sister or brother, husband or boyfriend, aunt or uncle, cousin or best friend.
Usually it's someone older than you, or at least the same age.
Tragic as it all is, most of the time you some how seem to except it.
But...there is this small chapter in my handbook now that doesn't exist in most.
The loss of a child.
I break down the chapter into individual sections.
First born (carried under my heart for 9 months, his Dad running up and down the hospital corridor dancing)
Namesake of his Dad (the fourth generation)
Doctors visits, bumps and scrapes, shot records.
Preschool, (hanging on my legs not to go, drawings, achievements and conduct reports).
Grade school (peer pressure, style of clothes, dances and crushes)
High School, (tougher subjects struggling to get him graduated, cramming for test, interest in computers, drivers license, prom, girls, still style of clothes and especially hair, graduation).
College, (goals still interested in the computer field, first time on his own, partying, working, creaking an ankle, going through 2 cars, 3 apartments, bad grades and loss of focus, coming back home).
On his own (a couple mediocre jobs, moved out on his own again and begins to focus once again, takes home computer courses online and becomes a Microsoft Certified Professional while holding a full time job in the profession he is qualified for, starts his own business with a partner, has a house built, has a personal relationship with a beautiful girl and her son.
Our Relationship (Let go of treating him like a child as he grew into an adult, found my best friend, we fueled each others imagination on just about every level, our interest in computers (talked back and forth each day, copying and sending to each other), talked on the phone at least 3 times a day, I would say he lives 2 hours away and I know what he had for breakfast, lunch and dinner lol, we shared our interest in his photography, my artwork and would tell the truth on each others outfits and hairstyles lol. Had deep discussions about relationships goals and achievements and once went as far as designing a sign and structure of our own nightclub and did research on how we would to about opening it up lol. He gave me my spark of light and I knew, I mean really knew he loved me.
Hobbies (anything electronic, computers, basketball, photography, fishing, camping, trips to the beach, mountains, cars, shopping (most likely more clothes).
Memorable vacations (many camping trips to Chincateague VA, the beach, trip to grandparents house and the car breaking down and staying in a flea bag hotel waiting for the car to be fixed (him and his sister wearing underwear on their heads so they wouldn't get lice, the whole night laughing ourselves to death before we fell asleep. Thanksgiving at my sisters house in MD, Christmas at his Grandparents in PA)
Most memorable times (His birth, cradling him in my arms all hours of the night looking into his eyes, many nights standing in the bathroom with the shower on hot to steam up the bathroom because he had the croup, his first day of school (it was very devastating to me), his first sleep over, him becoming a safety at school, his first communion, confirmation, graduation from high school, our misunderstandings through the teen years (learning that love can hurt while your helping someone to grow), getting his license, moving into his first apartment, how proud of him I was for him doing it all on his own getting Microsoft Certified, being given an award for helping set up computers for the Red Cross (he called me on his way home to tell me, I can still hear how excited he felt in his voice). And especially all Christmas's shared and Thanksgiving and the boys in the family fighting over the black olives lol.
Last section in my handbook...
How to cope with the loss of a child.
OH MY GOD! IS THERE A GOD? WHERE ARE YOU GOD?
Your handbook has just become very personal and individual (it's like a puzzle where you are the only one that holds the key pieces, but don't know where they go).
Do you realize that during the first stages that are noted in all those books about the loss of the child are not even seen by the person going through it at the time?
You red articles and books later and say to yourself you wished you would of understood the steps earlier (or at least seen them in the light). But the fact is, you stand in the dark alone, at least that is how you feel. You don't think about how others are feeling.
It's a very personal feeling and you don't want to comfort anyone else or see where they are coming from. There are many things that are said and done out of hurt, loss and despair. It's as if a cloak is dropped over your head that is not penetrable by anyone or what is said by them.
Your handbook has many pages, some scribbled on, some torn out. Until you come to the day where you become stronger and start to see that person who you once knew. That person who thought of others before themselves, that compassionate person you felt you always were. You start to look at the grief of others and how your actions may of somehow changed relationships of the ones you truly cared about and loved.
Most of the time, it wasn't about them as much as it was about yourself and especially your less then eager will to live.
I sometimes ask myself now, if I should ask for forgiveness of those I hurt through the blindness of my grieving or forgive them for making me feel another loss in my life by leaving me.
I think I've fond the same answer for both those questions.
The answer is yes, because although we are the keeper and creators of our own handbooks, everyone has completely unique paths they are on and judgement can't be placed on an others pain and direction they are bound to take through God's plan for us.
My lessons learned are my guidelines for a more resourceful handbook in my life. I pray my handbook is written with more compassion, understanding and forgiveness and that God looks over his shoulder and says "She's learned her lesson" and brings back the people in my life that I so dearly love and miss. I understand every season has it's time and when or if the season ever blooms in my direction, I truly will be blessed.
by Alie
My Only Friend Speaks To Me
My Only Friend Speaks To Me
Close your eyes I tell myself,
My only friend speaks to me.
Nothing but loneliness until the thoughts collide that you can call yourself a true
friend.
Nothing but loneliness until the thoughts collide and there is a glimmer of light in your
rationalism bouncing against logics understanding.
What is logic?
I sometimes wonder if it's just a word you fall back on when you want to seem strong and
don't want to succumb to actually thinking weak.
Control...now that is the key.
If you think logically, then you are in control.
So it would seem, unless it's all for show.
Does anyone ever need anyone?
The dark corners seem to be a security which I can hide and only have myself to please.
No one to please, interesting...
Have you ever thought how your insecurities would drift away if you had no one to
please?
Approval...
Why does anyone nee the approval of another?
Does that make us feel special? Striving to please someone to seek approval only
nourishes insecurities when they are not fulfilled.
And...are they ever?
Close your eyes I tell myself.
My only friend speaks to me.
They come and go.
Who? I ask myself.
Friends...my only friend answers.
A figment of the imagination!
Is there ever a friend that wants you rather than needs you?
I believe there is a difference.
When the need has vanished....so has the friend.
Does anyone ever need anyone?
I believe if a friend is needed it's for a short spell.
It's so easy to elude and discard them when the need is dismissed.
When a friend is wanted it comes from the heart.
It aches when you sit alone in the dark reminising.
Close your eyes I tell myself.
My only friend speaks to me.
Watch, listen...but never speak.
The doors to your thoughts must remain secure.
Vulnerability lurks in the ideas, passions and experiences that pass over your lips.
Smile a gentle smile, knowing you are at peace.
Dream your dreams...escape from reality.
Close your eyes I tell myself.
My only friend speaks to me.
by Alie
Close your eyes I tell myself,
My only friend speaks to me.
Nothing but loneliness until the thoughts collide that you can call yourself a true
friend.
Nothing but loneliness until the thoughts collide and there is a glimmer of light in your
rationalism bouncing against logics understanding.
What is logic?
I sometimes wonder if it's just a word you fall back on when you want to seem strong and
don't want to succumb to actually thinking weak.
Control...now that is the key.
If you think logically, then you are in control.
So it would seem, unless it's all for show.
Does anyone ever need anyone?
The dark corners seem to be a security which I can hide and only have myself to please.
No one to please, interesting...
Have you ever thought how your insecurities would drift away if you had no one to
please?
Approval...
Why does anyone nee the approval of another?
Does that make us feel special? Striving to please someone to seek approval only
nourishes insecurities when they are not fulfilled.
And...are they ever?
Close your eyes I tell myself.
My only friend speaks to me.
They come and go.
Who? I ask myself.
Friends...my only friend answers.
A figment of the imagination!
Is there ever a friend that wants you rather than needs you?
I believe there is a difference.
When the need has vanished....so has the friend.
Does anyone ever need anyone?
I believe if a friend is needed it's for a short spell.
It's so easy to elude and discard them when the need is dismissed.
When a friend is wanted it comes from the heart.
It aches when you sit alone in the dark reminising.
Close your eyes I tell myself.
My only friend speaks to me.
Watch, listen...but never speak.
The doors to your thoughts must remain secure.
Vulnerability lurks in the ideas, passions and experiences that pass over your lips.
Smile a gentle smile, knowing you are at peace.
Dream your dreams...escape from reality.
Close your eyes I tell myself.
My only friend speaks to me.
by Alie
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)