Lavender Black

Dearest Shelby and Kaitlyn,

I have an entire laundry list of words (idea's) I have written down with the express purpose of writing to you about each one. Somewhere down that line I had written the word Death. It was one of those, not pleasant, but I'll get to it topics, but since I have been curled up in the lap of such a fact since May 5th, I've decided it's earned the right to move up the list.

First and Foremost, a little personal wisdom about being a witness to someone else's passing away, because someday you will be given this chance and choice. Perhaps with my death, one of your Grandparents, a friend, a husband........

You have a choice when you walk into a room and someone is taking their last breaths. If you stay, you choose to be a voice they may or may not hear, a comfort they may or may not feel and a piece of their last moments on this earth. It's a precious chance, to be with someone who has walked this world during their last heart beats, one you can look back on and know you were with someone so they weren't alone during such a time........

.....but with that choice, that precious once in a lifetime moment, you also have to accept the possible burden of those last images, the rattle in ones chest, the body jerks and shakes, what resembles suffering, their eyes open and vacant. There won't be a magical moment, a divine sense of leaving, a spark in the air. The air around you simply becomes a painful void. You have to realize you'll be a witness to the quick effects a body goes through once they are gone, coldness and color changes and a silence that can haunt ones mind. Don't stay long my daughters, nothing in the room changes.......... 

I tell you this, because no one ever told me. I suppose it's the sort of thing that no one wants to think about or recant after the fact, but you know my philosophy.~ Fact is truth is understanding is knowledge is knowing is prepared is to make ones choice ~ I would like to believe that in time the images of her suffering and passing will pass and I will be left with the simple knowing, that I was part of something important. If given the choice again, I would do exactly as I did with your Great Grandmother Mary. I would stay in the room again and again.

I am not afraid to die my darlings, never have been. Why fear something that remains a universal fact? We all must die, truth. But thisI know for certain, I know I'll remain long after I have taken my last space of air. I am not referring to any sense of heaven, or afterlife, I entertain zero notions of a welcoming God or blazing hells, but I will remain nonetheless.

One minute ago is now my memory, and life is a string of memories. I would remain as long as I am remembered. I would remain as long as my writings survive the test of time. I would remain as long as my keepsakes and photographs passed through my future generations. The very existence of this letter to you, ensures my remaining, and that's comfort enough for me.

The focus in life shouldn't be to dodge the inevitable, but to embrace the opportunity of right now. Writing this letter is embracing opportunity, right now. Hugging and telling you both I loved you before you went to school this morning is embracing every moment. Life is divine and I would never presume to know what might happen tomorrow.

When someone you know passes on, honor them through memories. During this last week, memories are what brought smiles to all of our faces, laughter to a room of people who felt a deep sense of loss. Memories reminded everyone that the intricate connections people weave between themselves is what remains, even when someone passes on. 

Weave my darlings, weave yourself into many loves, family, friends, children, and life itself. If you do that, you will remain, and never fear leaving. And although you will lose those you love, you'll always have that threaded connection.

Weave and you're sadness will hold hands with smiles.                                              Weave and your loss will embrace laughter through memories.                                     Weave yourself into life and when you pass, when I pass, we will remain.

I love you both......

justaname4me2 at 2:00:51 PM EDT Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 4 comments: Show Recent | Add your own

    I always believed that anyone could hand me a topic about anything in the world and I could effortlessly write about said topic. Nothing would or could intimidate me into blank stares and constant silent tears of frustration and despair. I always thought I was a rather invincible writer, until now............

       Why I agreed to such a request, is now beyond me. It's crushing.
If I never write another thing I don't really care, but I have to do this perfectly.
She deserves beautiful perfect.
She is my Grandmother.

I have the honor of writing her life sketch, everyone's memories, of capturing all that she was by means of simple words, a nearly impossible task.

Then I have the honor (horror) of reading my own interpretation at the funeral...in front of all the people's lives she touched, while trying to maintain some sense of composure.

I'm in trouble.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

       Two days ago, May 5th, Monday evening at 9:39 p.m while I held my hands on her soft skin, my Grandmother Mary left this world. She was surrounded by people who loved her, just as anyone should be honored in their time of passing. She wasn't alone, Grandma always hated to be alone........

       I had never been with someone in such a manner when they passed away. I've certainly never lost someone I was incredibly close like my Grandmother. There was no moment of peace, or divine inclusion to experience. All I ever wanted for her was to die peacefully in her sleep...as she deserved. What she got there in the hospital was not, peaceful, until the last 5 minutes when her body gave up.

       I whispered in her ear. I said I loved her with all my heart and that it was ok to let go. I lied because I didn't want her to give up. I didn't want her to leave, but I'll keep that selfishness to myself. I was the last person to leave the room after the electronic line we had all watched so closely had gone flat.

       I took the arm restraints off her, and tucked the covers tight around her body. I didn't want to leave, but found myself stunned how quickly a body changes after someone has passed away. Or maybe a lot of time passed and I just didn't notice. I can't capture the concept of time since she left.......Stunned how quickly the hand I held turned cold, how the color shaded into yellow on her skin. How silent the room became. I went from afraid to leave her alone, to needing the same escape all my family had chosen. I expected better of myself.

~~~~~~~~~

       I should get back to doing the honor my Grandmother deserves. Perhaps now that I've wrote a few of the details I can't seem to eradicate from my mind I can focus...........

Always loving the woman who showed me beautiful.
I'll miss you more then words could ever paint.
Breathing. I am. I will.

 

justaname4me2 at 12:52:30 AM EDT Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 1 comments: Show Recent | Add your own

Dearest Daughters,

        Every month I make a trip to the attic in our home and add all the letters I've written you both for the past month to your individual chests. A ritual I've maintained since you both were tiny little souls.Yesterday I made my way up there with a fistful of written memories, moments and words captured in letter form for the both of you and marveled at the vast number of letters I've written you both in the past 16 years.

       I pat my own back for having the foresight to start such a endeavor so long ago. Each letter was sealed the day I wrote it, whether it was last week, or 10 years ago, the only hint of internal content I've ever provided was your name, and the date on the outside envelope. I have no idea when I'll give the two of you these pieces of your past. Perhaps when you turn 18..........maybe when your 25.........I've always imagined I'll "know" the right time.

       Above all, I feel like, and I hope you will see it as such, that those hundreds of letters and the written journey I'm about to embark on, will be the greatest gift I'll ever be able to give the both of you. 

       Until now, I've always written individual handwritten letters to each of you. As the clock towers of life persist at a perpetual movement, I have something else to say, something to say to both of you, which brings me to my purpose in this typewritten form. (which will probably resemble a novel by the time I'm done)

       This will not be about the both of you, but about me............and what I've learned, what I know, and who I am. I also think this will be a course in explanation of the way I've raised the both of you, I know I haven't stayed within conventional lines all these years when it comes to parenting and I want to explain that for you~~

And of course, as your Mother, I take the liberty of heaping my view of life in your direction and as always, as I've raised you........I expect you to consider my words, but not accept them as final truth. You must design your own conclusions in this world~

~~~~~~~~~~Loving You Everyday~~~~~~~~~~
Mother

(hidden in Internet Void for now)

justaname4me2 at 3:42:54 PM EDT Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 0 comments: Add your own

Bum Ba Da....I offered.
So Sorry. He made it less then 24 hours. Sober. Ba dada da bum.
It's ironic, how in his eyes, it's my fault. My problem. So sorry. He's sorry.

I'm not sorry. For my choices.

Now I'm sitting in my home, doors double locked. Windows secured, cell phone poised and ready to strike 911 gold.

Life, interrupted by an alcoholic ....tragic.... sibling.

How do I explain to anyone, the world, to the silent responsibility I shall not grant voice, that I have officially and mercilessly shed any burden of a person that is of my own blood?           So Sorry, it's like that.

Released from captivity yesterday: 2:44 p.m. A year of sobriety. A year of cloudless thinking.....and evidently a time to simply bide ones craving.
Refused offers of ride to half way home. Refused lift to rehab house. Refused visit to AA. Refused. So Sorry.
I offered, just that.....no money. no hotel. no supplies. nothing, but a ride to opportunity.

Obscurity. 30 hours of silent wondering. 30 hours of knowing the historical inevitable. And then, in predictable fashion, the phone call late tonight.

His words sloppy and slurred and my instant recognition 

"I'm cold and need a place to stay."

       "Your drunk, there's nothing I will do for you now. I offered choices yesterday and you refused. Figure it out on your own."

" You're going to make me freeze to death? Your my sister, you need to help me"

       "That's right, I'm your sister, but you're not my responsibility"

" Bring me money for a hotel or I'll call Mom and Dad, I know the protection order expired two weeks ago."

       "You'll do whatever you want to do, but know this, Mom and Dad will not be helping you in any shape or form. They don't owe you anything either."

" You're asking for it"

       "I'm not asking for anything but peace. Don't start with the threats .You've been out for less then a day and already your choices are effecting me. Your drunk. Find a homeless shelter. Go to AA. Figure it out Ben.

"Oh, I'll figure it out, I'll figure out your life for you and your fucked" (in the menacing tone)

       "I'll accept that as a threat."

"You should"

Click.......on my part. If there are certain rules to adhere oneself with when dealing with a threatening drunk, it's don't play the word fuck game. It's a complete waste of time and energy with a potentially violent drunk. Bunker down, that's the only option. And begin life that's now filled with hours of wondering, is this the day he will finally snap and try to take my life? My parents? His own?

It's a terrible effort just to fall asleep. It's a terrible way to spend a day in life knowing that 'fuck factor' is out there, not of my choice. Not of my making. I hope from the core of my interior he does something to land himself back in jail immediately. Hopefully, tonight. But I hope from the core of my interior it's nothing to do with me, or my parents, or any other innocent out there that might cross his path.

It's ironic, what the prosecutor said about him during a hearing in November. That Ben was a "threat to himself and society." That was 4 1/2 months ago. I wonder, how is it that he is now a viable human to send out into society? Did his crime and paid his time, I suppose. But I know. So Sorry. Not a single solitary thing has changed in him since he was taken straight from the Mental Hospital and placed in jail.

And now, he is my problem. My parents problem. Our worry.Even doing nothing at all is something to haunt a mind. Our fear. It's an unnerving vibration on my imagination, the possibilities of what's will come. Desperation has made him do horrible things in the past..........what will his choices befall my world this time?

My complete and total refusal to cave to his demands will illicit his wrath, this I have no doubt. The question is, will he wrath upon himself, or my family? He's never been so homeless. So alone and without souls to suck the life out of. By his choice of course, but he will never view it as so. Never. Sigh. So sorry.

The first entry in this journal was about Ben. A year ago this month. I will miss this previous year, very much. I never knew incarceration could bring such peace and tranquility to my world.........but now it's gone and I want back the peace of mind to sleep at night.

And if anyone ever questions why my parents, or myself can live with ourselves for turning a complete and total back to my brother, I shall invite them to my housefor a night. Give them the lowdown, that if they should wake to a window rattling, or a pounding at the door, to call the police immediately and pray for the best.........we've been doing it for years and years.......

It's not over. The phone calls. The fear. No, not tonight. Not until he's back in jail, or the state hospital. Or, as I've come to accept, his death. Not until his death will peace come to any of us. Him especially. I see no other way..........

He couldn't make it 24 hours......after a year of forced sobriety........ on the outside without the ruler of his domain. His Mother, his Father, his Sister, his Friend is alcohol. I stood on one side of the fence yesterday, with open arms and only a sobriety filled plan. Alcohol stood on the other side and promised him internal salvation. He didn't want me yesterday. He didn't need my options yesterday......So sorry, we're all fucked as long as alcohol is his God.

justaname4me2 at 3:05:03 AM EDT Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 3 comments: Show Recent | Add your own

I wonder if it's socially acceptable to have a mid-thirties crisis. In the next few months I turn 36 years old. My eldest daughter turns 16 years old. My youngest daughter 13...............Perhaps it's the age of my daughters that's giving me a reality smack. Maybe it's the gray hairs. Maybe it's the signs of crows feet or perhaps the obnoxious health issues I tolerate. 

                          

Maybe it's because I have no desires and ambition to play grown up. A new house, work, new car, new curtains in the family room, have no meaningful or goal oriented pull on me....anymore...been there, done that, empty results........ I've worked until I couldn't move up, was the big boss, then I quit the responsible "job" and waded through the deep waters of making money on my own. That's worked out just fine. But I could care less about my work. It gives me money to pay bills and play. Beyond that, money has no divine grace or worth.

The only thing I've come to really understand is that I am psychologically unemployable now. The mere thought of punching a time clock and having to be somewhere at a specific time five days a week, curls my toes and brings thoughts of illegal activity to mind.

Which leaves me wondering, what's next. Insert mini mid life crisis. Perhaps because I live my life based on a 'you might die tomorrow' basis, I find myself worried that if I die tomorrow, I would be irritated I didn't do something more profound today. Maybe this is because too many people I know are fighting cancer and my own mortality is dancing a tease in front (and on) of my face. A get your ass in gear and do something, now taunt.......

                            

I'm just not sure how much more 'carefree fun and exploration' I can insert into my life, along with the how much more 'meaningful' growth I can achieve, all while maintaining the required amount of grown up mundane I can stand.

Is this the proverbial rut I've heard whispers that others find themselves in? I've never really entertained the rut concept, not with so many choices and chances out there to grasp........yet........here I am today wondering, "what next."

Drastic measures of change may be in order. Change of scenery. Change of goals. Change of monthly and weekly highlights. My hyperactivity is making my skin crawl. Or maybe, right now, I am just feeling the pains of cabin fever and by the time my birthday rolls around I'll be off and on the run and content again............

I don't know. But maybe I can talk my daughters into going outside with me tomorrow to dance in the front yard, in the snow~~ It's been months~~~

                                             

justaname4me2 at 12:17:05 AM EST Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 0 comments: Add your own

Sometimes, being sentimental, means saving the things you know will one day make your heart hurt when you look back on them. My Mothers best friend, my self appointed Auntie, friend and family member is going to die, and soon. Terminal Ovarian cancer. Inoperable tumors..... everywhere.

Judith started a journal, at Caringbridge websites, a place for people who are sick. A very difficult site to visit, since everyone writing is in horrendous battles which the enemy is mainly death itself. I didn't want her entries about my little note, but more importantly, my daughter Kaitlyns letter to Judith, to fall into oblivion someday, so save, her words from her online journal.............here...................

The insight of a 12 year old is simple, remarkable and full of honesty. Kaitlyn didn't let me read her letter to Judith. She had made it, signed it, and sealed it before my prying eye's could sneak a peek. When I was sitting with Judith while she opened Kaitlyns handmade present, Judith also read Kaitlyns letter out loud. Although it brought tears to all of our eye's, I was proud of her. Very proud of Kaitlyn. She said what the rest of us, scared adults, haven't been able to say..................

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 01, 2008 03:35 PM, CST
Anna came over last week with her daughter, Rebecca, the mother of Kaitlyn and Shelby. Rebecca made me a beautiful card and wrote in it:


"Dear Judith,

I wanted to thank you with all my heart for the gift of one of your special art prints. I've really come to love art, especially figures, and I will cherish this piece as the treasure in my collection. Very soon she will be framed and on my home's wall, so I can enjoy her and the meaning she holds for me always.

Know I am always thinking of you and loving you.

Always, Rebecca Anne"

Family of my friend! How grateful I am. You should see the card.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 01, 2008 03:08 PM, CST
My daughter, Esther is here for the weekend because of closed campus due to snow in Moscow. I can't believe she drove the length of Idaho to come home. She is staying here. She took me shopping and carried everything and put it away including cat liter for the ice and rock salt for the softener. She called a bit ago and said she was on her way home and did I want anything from Baskin Robbins. Sweet, huh.

My friend, Anna, has two granddaughters I have know since they were born and every Xmas eve Esther (if she is with me) and I have spent with Anna and her extended family. Every year I say, am I still invited for Xmas eve? And every year she says, "yes, Judith"! Well, she set her grandchildren down to tell them my current situation and her youngest granddaughter who is 12, Kaitlyn, went right to her room and knit me the softest hat and round scarf that you slip over your head to wear around your neck for warmth. Then she made me a card. I have to write what she wrote, for a 12 year old, it is amazing. Actually, for anyone:

"Dear Judith,

I hope you like the hat and neck scarf, and that they keep you warm. Aren't they soft? I'm sorry to hear about the cancer. I hope you get to live your life to the fullest.

I know you have probably a thousand hats, but this hat is made with love. This neck scarf is also made with love, and I bet you don't have one of those already.

Cancer is a sad condition to be in. But with family and friends you can fight it out and live life to the fullest. Stay strong and the rest will follow.

Valentine's Day is coming up, so Happy Valentine's Day!

-Kaitlyn"

Then she drew hearts and heart shadows, a box of my favorite brand of chocolate cherries, and a rose. She included smiley stickers. I am blessed with family of friends, even!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

justaname4me2 at 2:44:50 PM EST Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 0 comments: Add your own

 

    On computer screen it all seems so insignificant, irrelevant and miniscule......each little file, a has been, on the brink of oblivion in my computer. I am like a drunk who can't recall just how much I've consumed lately. I've spent so much time writing compulsively that little black letters have infiltrated my dreams, little bubbles appear over others denoting their dialogue, and my thoughts roll out in linear sentences.

The truth is, I struggle with it all. It's purpose, my purpose. In a way, probably only and ever understood by me, it's always felt like a curse. A bad rash all the itching in the world won't satisfy. I once thought I would like to see my writing in publication, it seemed the only relevant purpose to continue writing in my vast volumes. Yet, the thought of others reading what I've wrote, on the whole, makes me nauseous. The idea of leaving someone millions of my words to do with as they wish after I die appears to be the only solution I'm peaceful about.
I just don't care.
I should care.
I just don't.

It's the struggle, the purpose and destination of my bad rash that leaves me agitated and frustrated. I wish sometimes, that no one in the world knew I wrote anything beyond checks for the bills. Then I could play the part of happy writing recluse and not explain why I won't show someone a piece, why I won't publish, why I have no desire to share~

justaname4me2 at 10:49:59 AM EST Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 0 comments: Add your own

I am: nothing to type, write or kick. Zero to expel, dispel or add into any equation. A blank square of monotone humdrum. The random solution is embracing the irrelevant, toying with the translucent possibilities and letting relations occur. It's my reproductive desire that harbors on the delusions of purpose. After all, it's just words.

The ferocious beast owns me this week. It's seductive trappings, it's mute points and sharp reasons. Words. Stories. White pages and black symbols. Whatever will become of it all........the ambition dies at the end of a sentence, destination is the dusty shelves. Once the effort is complete, I once again claim control.  There is, what is I, and there is, what is writing, and there is, a gray territory of collaboration.

I've killed someone with my words, and gave friends a reason to come together and celebrate death. I delivered a blow to a married woman that crumbled her to submission and made another woman show kindness to her significant other. I've made people lonely and breathless and find tears they no longer realized they could touch. And I've abandoned children, friends and lovers to test their humanity. I've committed crimes and I've delivered babies. I've boot kicked people in the stomach and made them pray to God. I've sent people to Hell and Back and wrote of the most beautiful places my mind can paint. I've made people wait for things they thought they couldn't live another day without and given them things they never wanted. I've taken away peoples most precious treasures and single handedly created monumental problems. My pen, my keyboard, my harmless drama filled landscapes.................

And everyday I can claim reincarnation of another opportunity, another situation, another soul to toy with, another determination................another solution.................

justaname4me2 at 8:36:53 PM EST Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 0 comments: Add your own

I am a Mother. A Mama. A Mommy. A Woman bound by biological authority, reigning from a valley floor based on love, full of opportunity and potential failures. A noble position. A tenacious position. A delicate opportunity.

I've always viewed Motherhood as not something I'm not entirely natural at. Nurturing Mama, I'm good at. Cupcakes I'm horrendous at. Listening I'm great at. Soccer Mom schedules, I abhor tremendously. Encouraging Mommy, I'm front and center. Classroom Mom, never. Walk in the park Mom, any day. Check homework Mommy, nope, not my cup of tea. Buy books every single week Mom, absolutely. Go to video arcade Mom, never. Go to the art gallery, anytime. And so on...........

I've always believed it was my duty, my responsibility, my job, to encourage my daughters throughout this beginning of their journey of life, to become absolute individuals. I never make excuses for them, and always make them stand alone when they have done wrong, or made a choice they need to deal with. After all, once they are adults, they won't have a Mama Bear standing behind them with teeth showing, but hopefully they will hear the soft chant of talks we once had.......I've always felt rather confident about my Mothering choices. So far, with an almost 16 year old and 13 year old, I've been very blessed by the way they are turning out. Beautiful individuals.

And yet, today, I feel at a loss. For my eldest daughter is experiencing her first tear stained agonies of love complications. Her's, is a basic Love equation. She has feelings for two boys. She is dating one. She still cares about the other. She's been advised (not by me) that she should never, ever, speak to the one she's no longer with because of a jealous girlfriend. Because she could hurt the boy she's now with. Because no one is allowed to be friends with someone they were once with.....blah blah blah.......

She doesn't understand.
Neither do I.... I told my darling daughter while wiping her tears. 
Life is full of irony..........

I've always been devoid of the virus called jealousy. I see, my daughter has inherited that trait. I do however, understand the concept. Infinite choices based on how someone else might feel is made all the time. This I understand all to well. But it doesn't mean I accept it as absolute. Why can't people remain in contact? Why can't two souls who care about each other say hello, have a bite to eat, without causing turmoil and ugly jealousy to others that love them? None of it computes within me.

Those black lines in the sands, seem ridiculous, unnecessary , but I certainly tow the line others have set for me. I've learned the laws of the land the hard way.  I acknowledge the conventional guidelines.......

How do I explain to my daughter that although she feels perfectly honorable saying hello to an old flame, that the people around her will never understand. In their eye's it will be wrong. Deceitful. Ugly. Dangerous. How do I tell my daughter to shut down any and all feelings for someone she cares about just to avoid random accusations of whatever random feeling some other may think towards her. I can't, as much as I think that would be the easy way out, the easy way to avoid tears.....evidently my daughters heart and capacity to love beyond conventional attitude parallels my own.

Perhaps the only thing I can do is reveal some of my experiences, so she knows I've felt the very same things and just let her feel "it" to her very core. Isn't that what love is after all, an emotion that attaches itself to every single fiber of a person. It doesn't just go away because everyone else says that's what your supposed to make happen, at least on the surface. Maybe since I'm missing the jealous gene, I am also missing the shut off valve to my heart. I cannot write today, that I don't love those of my past.  



justaname4me2 at 12:26:32 PM EST Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 0 comments: Add your own

                         

The Eternal Eastern Compass

justaname4me2 at 1:38:15 AM EST Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 0 comments: Add your own