My writer friend sent this to me to post on my webpage, thank you so much.https://amzn.to/2X0L73p
She asks me
When I have
My writer friend sent this to me to post on my webpage, thank you so much.https://amzn.to/2X0L73p
She asks me
When I have
I think that this past week has taught me a lot about others, and myself.
I went to see my dying sister and it was an image I think I will never shake from my mind. Seems like time was not on her side but allowed her to be around to say her farewells to her loved ones, which is way more than what others get. I am glad she had that time. I am glad I had that time to say goodbye to her. She was a rather comical sister. She laughed and loved to make others laugh. I saw glimpses of that when I went to visit her. That brought some comfort to the situation, to know she could still joke and be comical, facing the end of her life.
Sometimes funerals and saying goodbyes to a dear one is more for those saying goodbye than for those that are passing on from this life. It is those who pas away suddenly and most unexpectantly that are hardest , I think, to bear. We do not get to say our final blessings or what have you to those who pass without warning. It is hard to live with sometimes, and it can cause such pain.
This past weekend was the service for my sister. It was wall to wall with people , some standing for lack of seats and some that stood in the door way area. It was amazing to see how many people came to say their farewells. Everyone had words of love and fond remembrance of my sister. I saw two pictures of her when she was much younger. It was uncanny at resemblances of her and I heard from several people how I looked like her, and it was bittersweet.
I think what I learned most was that people have a hard time with death and while others don’t, there is still the fear of the unknown after we leave here. I saw and heard from people who regretted not having more time and others who wished things had have been different for their relationship with my sister. I learned that we as humans have a hard time letting go. I know that we as humans, cling to things and have a fear of living a life outside of our pain. Sometimes, we try to punish ourselves by staying in a constant mourning, so to speak, and we will not let ourselves truly carry on with our own lives.
Sometimes, life can sink right down into our very soul and in doing so, we cannot ever truly free ourselves of things like remorse, guilt, tragedy, terrible times, hard times, and things that were not pleasant. We have to , you hear me, we have to! We are not meant to carry every single thing that we regret or have done wrong or that has happened in our life on our own shoulders and especially things that connect to our soul. It is impossible to live our lives in a SHADOW of who and what we were meant to be. We must forgive our past judgements, mistakes, regrets, and lack of’s. We are human and we will not always do things the right way, say all there needs to be said , or even treat people the way they should be treated, no matter how hard we try.
What I took away with me from this terrible week was to cherish the good moments the fleeting ones too.
And in closing this thought…
Please allow yourself some happiness and forgiveness and love.
As a writer of the heart and such things, I find that today I am at a loss as to what I should write. I find myself in a void of thought that myself cannot fill. I am just going to start writing and let what comes out spill.
I am the second born in a family with six children. I am one of four girls born to the same mother. I have two brothers born from the same mother, also.
None of us have grew up in the same household except my three younger siblings. Sure, some have been in the same area or home with another, on and off. My mother had six children, four girls and two boys. She has since passed away and in a few short years, I have been able to get to know more of my family and their lives. I searched for many years for the one sister I will refer to as W. She lived an hour and some from me and although we never met aside from our mother’s funeral, we have enjoyed chats here and there on the phone. I just lost my sister W today.
I will not say that any of us are really close, except maybe the three that grew up together. I would like to say that my older sister, the oldest, her and I share the same father and mother. We are just a few years apart in age and we both grew up differently and apart. I love my siblings and it does not matter to me that they and I were not together all our lives. I am the second oldest. In writing that, I feel a sense of obligation to our family, as far as being a support. Although ,I have not mastered that as of this moment, I feel that everything has a purpose and my being the second born definitely gives me one with which I hope to know one day.
It is possible to be from two different worlds and feel a bond, a connection with someone. I am living proof of this. I am an empath and to deny that I care and have strong feelings for others would make me a liar of sorts, to my own identity. It is in my nature to care for others, even those who do not necessarily care about me. I also write this, as not to toot my own horn, but to explain why things bother me on a deeper level than say, most people. Since I can remember, I have struggled to belong somewhere, and know that I was loved. My husband said it best when he said, “You have separation anxieties.” I do, I really do. So perhaps, I cling a little more, hold on a little tighter, and push myself sometimes into others life, that I love and care about. It is a true and most honest thing I just wrote.
I feel like sometimes there is not enough empathy around. People are so selfish by nature and they really don’t mean to be selfish, but come out to others, as just that. People try to preserve their own selves from hurt and pain and they do what comes natural to them and sometimes they end up with a worse than before situation. We all need or want someone’s approval, love, or otherwise. We are not here on this big old planet alone, now are we?
I feel that in writing some about our feelings, or what I am feeling today, I will be more apt to deal with the days following today, when I shall say goodbye for one last time to a sister that was born into my family. A sister that I will miss getting to know better, miss getting to love, and miss getting to help. A sister that by all accounts, is in my heart of hearts, and will be till I myself, die.
I hope she is walking with angels and I hope she is finally the happiest she has ever been. I wish peace for her close and dear loved ones and until the life is over for us all, I hope everyone has a chance to live and be happy.
Until next time, on this here, side of the rainbow, I bid you adieu.
Dickens wrote this Christmas vignette for his twopenny magazine, Household Words in 1851. He published reader interest stories and essays on a weekly basis between 1850-1859, but his Christmas stories were always a highlight. In this story, Dickens intertwines his disillusionment with his return to a youthful optimism– it’s really quite personal and heartfelt, coming after the deaths of his father and daughter. I think we benefit from its plea to stop complaining, accept and understand the past, and savor Christmas as a time for reconciliation.
Time was, with most of us, when Christmas Day encircling all our limited world like a magic ring, left nothing out for us to miss or seek; bound together all our home enjoyments, affections, and hopes; grouped everything and every one around the Christmas fire; and made the little picture shining in our bright young eyes, complete.
Time came, perhaps, all so soon, when our thoughts over-leaped that narrow boundary; when there was some one (very dear, we thought then, very beautiful, and absolutely perfect) wanting to the fulness of our happiness; when we were wanting too (or we thought so, which did just as well) at the Christmas hearth by which that some one sat; and when we intertwined with every wreath and garland of our life that some one’s name.
That was the time for the bright visionary Christmases which have long arisen from us to show faintly, after summer rain, in the palest edges of the rainbow! That was the time for the beatified enjoyment of the things that were to be, and never were, and yet the things that were so real in our resolute hope that it would be hard to say, now, what realities achieved since, have been stronger!
What! Did that Christmas never really come when we and the priceless pearl who was our young choice were received, after the happiest of totally impossible marriages, by the two united families previously at daggers–drawn on our account? When brothers and sisters-in-law who had always been rather cool to us before our relationship was effected, perfectly doted on us, and when fathers and mothers overwhelmed us with unlimited incomes? Was that Christmas dinner never really eaten, after which we arose, and generously and eloquently rendered honour to our late rival, present in the company, then and there exchanging friendship and forgiveness, and founding an attachment, not to be surpassed in Greek or Roman story, which subsisted until death? Has that same rival long ceased to care for that same priceless pearl, and married for money, and become usurious? Above all, do we really know, now, that we should probably have been miserable if we had won and worn the pearl, and that we are better without her?
That Christmas when we had recently achieved so much fame; when we had been carried in triumph somewhere, for doing something great and good; when we had won an honoured and ennobled name, and arrived and were received at home in a shower of tears of joy; is it possible that THAT Christmas has not come yet?
And is our life here, at the best, so constituted that, pausing as we advance at such a noticeable mile-stone in the track as this great birthday, we look back on the things that never were, as naturally and full as gravely as on the things that have been and are gone, or have been and still are? If it be so, and so it seems to be, must we come to the conclusion that life is little better than a dream, and little worth the loves and strivings that we crowd into it?
No! Far be such miscalled philosophy from us, dear Reader, on Christmas Day! Nearer and closer to our hearts be the Christmas spirit, which is the spirit of active usefulness, perseverance, cheerful discharge of duty, kindness and forbearance! It is in the last virtues especially, that we are, or should be, strengthened by the unaccomplished visions of our youth; for, who shall say that they are not our teachers to deal gently even with the impalpable nothings of the earth!
Therefore, as we grow older, let us be more thankful that the circle of our Christmas associations and of the lessons that they bring, expands! Let us welcome every one of them, and summon them to take their places by the Christmas hearth.
Welcome, old aspirations, glittering creatures of an ardent fancy, to your shelter underneath the holly! We know you, and have not outlived you yet. Welcome, old projects and old loves, however fleeting, to your nooks among the steadier lights that burn around us. Welcome, all that was ever real to our hearts; and for the earnestness that made you real, thanks to Heaven! Do we build no Christmas castles in the clouds now? Let our thoughts, fluttering like butterflies among these flowers of children, bear witness! Before this boy, there stretches out a Future, brighter than we ever looked on in our old romantic time, but bright with honour and with truth. Around this little head on which the sunny curls lie heaped, the graces sport, as prettily, as airily, as when there was no scythe within the reach of Time to shear away the curls of our first-love. Upon another girl’s face near it–placider but smiling bright–a quiet and contented little face, we see Home fairly written. Shining from the word, as rays shine from a star, we see how, when our graves are old, other hopes than ours are young, other hearts than ours are moved; how other ways are smoothed; how other happiness blooms, ripens, and decays–no, not decays, for other homes and other bands of children, not yet in being nor for ages yet to be, arise, and bloom and ripen to the end of all!
Welcome, everything! Welcome, alike what has been, and what never was, and what we hope may be, to your shelter underneath the holly, to your places round the Christmas fire, where what is sits open-hearted! In yonder shadow, do we see obtruding furtively upon the blaze, an enemy’s face? By Christmas Day we do forgive him! If the injury he has done us may admit of such companionship, let him come here and take his place. If otherwise, unhappily, let him go hence, assured that we will never injure nor accuse him.
On this day we shut out Nothing!
“Pause,” says a low voice. “Nothing? Think!”
“On Christmas Day, we will shut out from our fireside, Nothing.”
“Not the shadow of a vast City where the withered leaves are lying deep?” the voice replies. “Not the shadow that darkens the whole globe? Not the shadow of the City of the Dead?”
Not even that. Of all days in the year, we will turn our faces towards that City upon Christmas Day, and from its silent hosts bring those we loved, among us. City of the Dead, in the blessed name wherein we are gathered together at this time, and in the Presence that is here among us according to the promise, we will receive, and not dismiss, thy people who are dear to us!
Yes. We can look upon these children angels that alight, so solemnly, so beautifully among the living children by the fire, and can bear to think how they departed from us. Entertaining angels unawares, as the Patriarchs did, the playful children are unconscious of their guests; but we can see them–can see a radiant arm around one favourite neck, as if there were a tempting of that child away. Among the celestial figures there is one, a poor misshapen boy on earth, of a glorious beauty now, of whom his dying mother said it grieved her much to leave him here, alone, for so many years as it was likely would elapse before he came to her– being such a little child. But he went quickly, and was laid upon her breast, and in her hand she leads him.
There was a gallant boy, who fell, far away, upon a burning sand beneath a burning sun, and said, “Tell them at home, with my last love, how much I could have wished to kiss them once, but that I died contented and had done my duty!” Or there was another, over whom they read the words, “Therefore we commit his body to the deep,” and so consigned him to the lonely ocean and sailed on. Or there was another, who lay down to his rest in the dark shadow of great forests, and, on earth, awoke no more. O shall they not, from sand and sea and forest, be brought home at such a time!
There was a dear girl–almost a woman–never to be one–who made a mourning Christmas in a house of joy, and went her trackless way to the silent City. Do we recollect her, worn out, faintly whispering what could not be heard, and falling into that last sleep for weariness? O look upon her now! O look upon her beauty, her serenity, her changeless youth, her happiness! The daughter of Jairus was recalled to life, to die; but she, more blest, has heard the same voice, saying unto her, “Arise for ever!”
We had a friend who was our friend from early days, with whom we often pictured the changes that were to come upon our lives, and merrily imagined how we would speak, and walk, and think, and talk, when we came to be old. His destined habitation in the City of the Dead received him in his prime. Shall he be shut out from our Christmas remembrance? Would his love have so excluded us? Lost friend, lost child, lost parent, sister, brother, husband, wife, we will not so discard you! You shall hold your cherished places in our Christmas hearts, and by our Christmas fires; and in the season of immortal hope, and on the birthday of immortal mercy, we will shut out Nothing!
The winter sun goes down over town and village; on the sea it makes a rosy path, as if the Sacred tread were fresh upon the water. A few more moments, and it sinks, and night comes on, and lights begin to sparkle in the prospect. On the hill-side beyond the shapelessly-diffused town, and in the quiet keeping of the trees that gird the village-steeple, remembrances are cut in stone, planted in common flowers, growing in grass, entwined with lowly brambles around many a mound of earth. In town and village, there are doors and windows closed against the weather, there are flaming logs heaped high, there are joyful faces, there is healthy music of voices. Be all ungentleness and harm excluded from the temples of the Household Gods, but be those remembrances admitted with tender encouragement! They are of the time and all its comforting and peaceful reassurances; and of the history that re-united even upon earth the living and the dead; and of the broad beneficence and goodness that too many men have tried to tear to narrow shreds.
One day she was going to decorate her house just like you see it done in magazines and movies…but not today. She just couldn’t get into the Christmas spirit. Today she found herself thinking of Christmas’s past. She felt the feelings she had felt before, today she remembered it all.
It’s easy to get swept up in holiday traditions but what if your holiday traditions were erased? Hers had been, she had to understand though that all was not lost. She needed to know that holidays were and could be so much more than tradition.
This year, this time, she needed to find the meaning behind,the traditions and gatherings.
See for her there was so much that life had changed for her, that she needed to gather what she could. She needed meaning not traditions to keep her going.
When she was a child everything was so exciting, she missed that feeling. Now that she grew older she longed for a truth, a realism she didn’t get from all the holiday hustle and bustle, or from all the worrying over bills versus buying presents. Her world should be more. More than that she wanted everyone around her to be grateful.
Why should she struggle? Why couldn’t it look at easy as tv or movies, in that they all had smiles, presents, and cheer?
She really thought hard and tried to find something that she could internally use, use to feel better.
Alongside remembering past holidays, she remembered those who were no longer in her present, and she cried. She just sat there and felt the loss like it was happening there in that moment. She thought about the true meaning of Christmas and the sacrifice that people gave many years ago , where two parents that had a newborn that was despised by man, yet loved and awaited by millions. The sacrifice they made to make sure he was safe and cared for. They left their family, their homes and their own comforts.
Sometimes, she thought, one must give more than they ever will receive in return. Sometimes no matter where we have been we can still find a place to belong. It all is in our hearts and minds, she thought.
Her Christmas tears turned on her mind, but she found the strength to keep trying, to keep looking for the answers, but with a newness of heart.
Christmas tears , the ones shed so long ago in a manger, now in her own eyes…that made life seem clearer around this time of year.
The lesson is life can bring you down but if you look,more than you think can be found.
THE Girl Who Felt Too Much…
Her day was never ordinary, instead it was anything but. Her mind could carry her places no-one else knew that it could.
Her pain was like a birthright, literally and figuratively, despite how much her life constantly changed.
Was it just because of her, that things seemed to go wrong? Or could her lot in life be playing out little by little in every thought, word, and action.
She’d once dreamt of a beautiful life, with kids, happiness, and even seeing herself as a cherished and irreplaceable person but not anymore.
As a child she enjoyed simple things. She could play in the woods forever, until dark. Never caring about what could be around a bush or what dangers there was awaiting. She just let her imagination take her to wondrous places, where she explored as a child.
I wouldn’t say she was a “tom boy”, but she could climb trees like a monkey. She would walk the creek behind her house almost everyday, searching and exploring. The creatures she imagined were so nice and pleasant, in her mind. She really didn’t know that the real world would prove to be way different. It is good she didn’t because she would have never left her room.
See in her teenage world there was glimpses of that real scary world, glimpses of things not so pleasant. Those would serve as a warning and she’d have to find her real life courage instead of her childhood one.
Teenage years were more than she wanted at times, more than she could handle. While her friends had normal worries, stresses, or problems, she had much more complicated ones. The feelings she learned as a child, the innocent ones, soon became clouded with different fears.
Her family was unusual if compared to a normal sense. Their secrets surrounded the family home. It was almost like seeing through a dirty window, things were distorted, you could say.
The family liked things that way though. At least No one would be able to really see, see the people they really could be.
The girl who felt too much often tried to feel nothing. If she could manage that she’d have been perfect. Regardless of what she felt and needed she never quite could make herself disappear.
So being that she always felt a lot, dreamt a lot she never could create the places she dreamt of. She was stuck in a place she could not escape, at least not yet.
Adult hood was different in that she choose to walk out of the chaos that had become her family home. There in her adult world she found some strength, some peace, and some hope. Although the impact of her family home life, changed her, she allowed herself to stay in it. This was different from her teenage years because now she choose to feel too much about what she wanted to. Where as in her teenage years her feelings were null and void when it came down to it.
Here in the adult world that she is in she found, her smile again, found new meanings, and carried on through each and every day.
The impact of all the bad and confusion she had made her world around did change her. It hurt her, it followed her, and even though she tries not to she always feels too much.
It had to be you know, there was no more me living on pins and needles. There was no possible way, I could let you rule the rest of my decisions, for my life left to live.
I had to leave when I did. It was getting so hectic and unbearable. I was virtually a prisoner to the a deck of cards, never knowing when the next card would fall or what it would be. It was not the life I wanted for me.
Familiar was never a reason to stay, and to be treated that way. Love was not going to fight all your demons you had built around yourself and mine too. One of us had to let go. One of us had to love enough to break free. That one who did was me. I loved myself for once in my life, back then, on that day. The day when I turned and waved.
I was desperate but not foolish, I could take care of myself and that I did. Without you, or him, or anyone in my family circle back then. I survived to make a new way, forget past judgements that were thrown my way. I was going to be a better me and live to tell. My own stories of personal hell.
I did it, here I am writing a post on my own webpage, because this time I am the in “charge of” host. I am the one who gets to recall as I see fit, all the darkness , each and every bit. I get to decide to give time to thinking, of the things that help me so tight against the wall to hell back then. I am the one who in all intense description, yet, still lives it over and over again, not you. Never you.
I will manage at times to appear to regress, see myself sometimes crying out and starting to stress. I find that I love you still despite all I choose to let go of. I find I want you in my life despite the cruel ways you use to let me dangle and twist and almost choke my own life out.
I find that pain is no more a server of knowledge, and sometimes gives us enough to carry on. I find myself trudging past all the why’s and what if’s and I find mostly I am still so lost in it… I know it has become like a part of my skin, serving a purpose that I cannot see, a part of forgiveness that I had to give to me. A part that says I am no more a loser and a no good. I am a person who has loved and lost. More lost than been loved. I am a person who caries their heart on their shoulders, and still holds out a hand. I cannot picture me any other kind of man.
I wanted to just tell you, should you ever read, these words I have written and left for you to see,
No more a prisoner! Hmm, that sounds good if only my eyes and heart would agree!
Today was not unlike all the many days before for Blue. She awoke with not much on her mind, in way of things to do, but to get herself ready for school. Same as always, she was wishing she had time to stay in bed just a little more. Her covers on her bed were always so cozy and warm, from her body heat where she had lain. Blue was always so cold in the wintertime. Her parents kept the door to her room shut and the heat turned off. The sole source of heat they used was a fireplace, that was stationed in the living room. The reason for this was to save money on their power bill. Blue was certain though that they intentionally left her to freeze.
Like all kids, Blue figured there was some meaning to the fact that she had no heat in her room. Often time she figured it was a sort of punishment for something she had most certainly done. It seemed like she was always doing something that her parents did not approve of. Often, Blue wished she was perfect, but she knew that was not even remotely possible. She was simply not cut out to be perfect. Even as a kid she knew she would disappoint and bewilder much of the time, her parents.
Blue often pondered how her life would be if she had been her sister.
Her sister was way older than her and they did not resemble or think the same way. There was very little in common between her and her sister, but that really did not matter to Blue. To Blue, her sister was darn near perfect and favored by their parents. She just knew she wanted to grow into someone just like her sister. Although, she did not know how. If she was her sister, she just knew her parents would be proud of her, that they would love her through any mistake and that they would tell all their friends about her. Like they always did of her sister.
Often Blue would catch herself trying to watch her sister’s every move. She really could not understand what it was that her parents saw so special in her sister. Her sister appeared to be normal. Often her sister would walk out from her room and Blue would sneak a visit or look into her sister’s room. Blue was really just curious but also felt that maybe there was some magical power in there directing her parent’s affection towards her sister. There was no way her sister could be more important than her, surely there must some magical reason for this type of affection her sister received.
Often her sister would find her inside of her room and yell at her, running her out and quickly shutting the door behind Blue as she fled for her life. There just had to be dark secrets inside of her sister’s room, Blue just knew it. Contrary to her sister’s opinion of her, Blue wanted desperately to be close to her sister. Blue really did not know a whole lot about her sister. It was as if the years that separated them in age, separated them in love. Blue just wanted to be close to her sister, but she did not know how.
At an early age it was, Blue figured out how unfair life could be.
She was often time bewildered but not free from the bias her household had. She knew that she could try so very hard to seek her parents approval but in reality she would never get it, not like her sister did. Often she found herself feeling jealous and having self-pity. Of course, she also loved all her family and like all kids, she would continue to seek their love and approval.
Perhaps Blue was destined to be a failure, she often times thought. Maybe if she quit trying so hard to be adored, she would feel better.
Try telling a kid that…
To be continued…
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