Another day has come and gone
we are one day closer
to being together again
to peace
to being whole again
The waiting seems unbearable
the quiet and emptiness
an ache that haunts me
The smell of you is fading
the edge of your parting dulling
I long for you
your closeness
your warmth
the way you close your eyes
when I touch you
Your return is so distant
I fear it will never come
What am I to do until then?
Come back to me...
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
The Lovely Bones
My heart aches today as I think about my childhood friend Becky. I finished reading this book called The Lovely Bones about a girl who was raped and brutally murdered. It's written from the perspective of the girl in heaven looking down on the aftermath of her death - her killer's cover up, the investigation, and the way her family and friends grieved.
I couldn't help but think of Becky. I pictured her naked body frozen to the ground, the rope marks on her neck. Then her in her coffin in that hideous purple dress (which she would have outright loathed) with the high collar to try and cover the marks, and all the makeup that was a failed attempt to try and hide all her bruises and her broken jaw.
And I again wondered how long she suffered. How much pain and humiliation was she forced to endure before he killed her? Did she know he was going to kill her - that she was going to die? Was she scared or did she think of the family she would never see again?
She was so young and so beautiful. I thought it was such a tragedy that she had died so young, and that so much of her experience on earth had been so bleak and unhappy. It took me years to understand that while it was tragic the way she died, maybe she was better off in heaven. There would be no one there to neglect her, or abuse her, nobody touching her, no one telling her she wasn't good enough.
Even before she was killed, she was already defeated. Maybe it was a blessing she died so young. Maybe God has spared her from so much suffering.
This book made me wonder, is she too looking down from heaven with regret in her heart for all of the unfulfilled dreams and wishes? Watching her family and those of us who loved her and wondering if we remember her, still cherish her?
Do we ever really let tragedies go? They are part of us - they shape the way we think and feel - the pain, the hurt, the self-preservation. Is it all a part of life - a part of becoming whatever we are meant to be? That each lesson learned, each emotion, each relationship formed out of this tragedy become the "lovely bones" that bind us together.
I couldn't help but think of Becky. I pictured her naked body frozen to the ground, the rope marks on her neck. Then her in her coffin in that hideous purple dress (which she would have outright loathed) with the high collar to try and cover the marks, and all the makeup that was a failed attempt to try and hide all her bruises and her broken jaw.
And I again wondered how long she suffered. How much pain and humiliation was she forced to endure before he killed her? Did she know he was going to kill her - that she was going to die? Was she scared or did she think of the family she would never see again?
She was so young and so beautiful. I thought it was such a tragedy that she had died so young, and that so much of her experience on earth had been so bleak and unhappy. It took me years to understand that while it was tragic the way she died, maybe she was better off in heaven. There would be no one there to neglect her, or abuse her, nobody touching her, no one telling her she wasn't good enough.
Even before she was killed, she was already defeated. Maybe it was a blessing she died so young. Maybe God has spared her from so much suffering.
This book made me wonder, is she too looking down from heaven with regret in her heart for all of the unfulfilled dreams and wishes? Watching her family and those of us who loved her and wondering if we remember her, still cherish her?
Do we ever really let tragedies go? They are part of us - they shape the way we think and feel - the pain, the hurt, the self-preservation. Is it all a part of life - a part of becoming whatever we are meant to be? That each lesson learned, each emotion, each relationship formed out of this tragedy become the "lovely bones" that bind us together.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
A Bouquet of Freshly Sharpened Pencils...
It's hard to believe that school started last week since it is just the beginning of August and the Georgia summer is still at its peak.
Growing up, school always signaled the start of my favorite season - autumn. And it always started the same way - back to school shopping. Walking through the aisles of pencils and glue, trapper keepers and spiral notebooks, always makes me excited. It reminds me of that line from "You've Got Mail"..."I would send you a bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils if only I knew your name and address. Don't you just love New York in the fall?"
Then the days cool off, the leaves start to change into the most beautiful display, maple sugaring starts, and oh apple picking time! Mmm...apple sauce, apple pie, apple crisp, apple cider, apple jam...This is the time of year I miss New England the most.
And so tonight - since it is still 80 degrees out and the air conditioner is cranked, I shall settle for baking my grandmother's knobby apple cake and burning my Harvest Yankee Candle. And then I will remember my favorite spot in Connecticut on the corner of Bogg and Chappell streets - overlooking the valley with the old stones fences, the pond with the geese taking a break on their way south for the winter, the grazing cows, and the foliage on the surrounding hills. And I will imagine that I am home.
Growing up, school always signaled the start of my favorite season - autumn. And it always started the same way - back to school shopping. Walking through the aisles of pencils and glue, trapper keepers and spiral notebooks, always makes me excited. It reminds me of that line from "You've Got Mail"..."I would send you a bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils if only I knew your name and address. Don't you just love New York in the fall?"
Then the days cool off, the leaves start to change into the most beautiful display, maple sugaring starts, and oh apple picking time! Mmm...apple sauce, apple pie, apple crisp, apple cider, apple jam...This is the time of year I miss New England the most.
And so tonight - since it is still 80 degrees out and the air conditioner is cranked, I shall settle for baking my grandmother's knobby apple cake and burning my Harvest Yankee Candle. And then I will remember my favorite spot in Connecticut on the corner of Bogg and Chappell streets - overlooking the valley with the old stones fences, the pond with the geese taking a break on their way south for the winter, the grazing cows, and the foliage on the surrounding hills. And I will imagine that I am home.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
5 Things I Love About You
I love:
1. That you would do a job that you don't really like, that brings you no joy and takes you far away from your family, so that you can provide a safe and secure life for your family.
2. That you love me -even if I don't always recognize it in the way you show me, deep down I know how you feel. I am thankful to be secure enough in your love that I can trust it.
3. That sometimes it's enough just to be next to you.
4. That you respect my intellect - that you can appreciate my "inner geek."
5. That you understand me - happy, angry, sad, lonely, whatever. I can always just be me. I don't feel like I ever have to paint on a happy face or pretend with you.
1. That you would do a job that you don't really like, that brings you no joy and takes you far away from your family, so that you can provide a safe and secure life for your family.
2. That you love me -even if I don't always recognize it in the way you show me, deep down I know how you feel. I am thankful to be secure enough in your love that I can trust it.
3. That sometimes it's enough just to be next to you.
4. That you respect my intellect - that you can appreciate my "inner geek."
5. That you understand me - happy, angry, sad, lonely, whatever. I can always just be me. I don't feel like I ever have to paint on a happy face or pretend with you.
Maine
It's late, the kids are all tucked in bed, my husband's gone, and here I am, once again, completely unable to sleep. Although my body is physically exhausted my brain simply refuses to shut down. After an hour of lying in bed trying to make shapes out of the plaster and the shadows on the ceiling, I have finally given up and turned the light back on.
So here I am, as I so often find myself when my husband is away, suffering from some crazy inability to relax and fall asleep. Why is it that when he is here I sleep so perfectly, even when he is not next to me, yet I am completely unable to fall asleep even when exhausted when he is away?
Anyway, during my pitiful attempt to fall asleep, I was thinking about Maine. My brother is headed up there in a few weeks to visit our other brother and our dad. And I find that I am so jealous! it is such a beautiful place, and now that my relationship with my father is mended and so much time has passed since my childhood (you know what they say - the greatest distance between two points is time), I can think of it so much more fondly.
It is strange to me though, that while some things - the lighthouses and the rocky shore dotted with fishing boats - has remained the same, Maine, like Cape Cod, has changed so much. On the surface are certainly the little things, the Hesper and the Luther Little are gone, the school and the post office have moved, the town is bigger.
But the change runs deeper than that. Surely my generation has grown up, moving away, getting married, having kids, etc. But it's the flavor of the town that I find so different. Even with all the things that are the same, it is hard to recognize the place I once called home.
My brother told me on the phone the other day that he sometimes has a hard time thinking of us as all grown up - that he sometimes imagines us younger. I've thought a lot about it since he called. Maybe it's that we missed so many years together during the divorce. Most brothers and sisters spend their childhood's growing together, their lives on parallel paths, each traveling their own way to their own destination. But with a common starting place and shared experience, you can still arrive at a place of mutual understanding. But our paths carried us all across the country, and it seems we've been carried too far apart.
I find myself wishing I could be back at our shared starting place, with my family, wondering if their is a way to make our paths and our lives intersect.
So here I am, as I so often find myself when my husband is away, suffering from some crazy inability to relax and fall asleep. Why is it that when he is here I sleep so perfectly, even when he is not next to me, yet I am completely unable to fall asleep even when exhausted when he is away?
Anyway, during my pitiful attempt to fall asleep, I was thinking about Maine. My brother is headed up there in a few weeks to visit our other brother and our dad. And I find that I am so jealous! it is such a beautiful place, and now that my relationship with my father is mended and so much time has passed since my childhood (you know what they say - the greatest distance between two points is time), I can think of it so much more fondly.
It is strange to me though, that while some things - the lighthouses and the rocky shore dotted with fishing boats - has remained the same, Maine, like Cape Cod, has changed so much. On the surface are certainly the little things, the Hesper and the Luther Little are gone, the school and the post office have moved, the town is bigger.
But the change runs deeper than that. Surely my generation has grown up, moving away, getting married, having kids, etc. But it's the flavor of the town that I find so different. Even with all the things that are the same, it is hard to recognize the place I once called home.
My brother told me on the phone the other day that he sometimes has a hard time thinking of us as all grown up - that he sometimes imagines us younger. I've thought a lot about it since he called. Maybe it's that we missed so many years together during the divorce. Most brothers and sisters spend their childhood's growing together, their lives on parallel paths, each traveling their own way to their own destination. But with a common starting place and shared experience, you can still arrive at a place of mutual understanding. But our paths carried us all across the country, and it seems we've been carried too far apart.
I find myself wishing I could be back at our shared starting place, with my family, wondering if their is a way to make our paths and our lives intersect.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
"New Year" Resolutions
It occurs to me on this second day of school that I should embrace this year and make a few changes in my life. With my littlest one off to school five days a week, I will actually have time built in to my day for me - every single day. So it only seems fitting that I make some "new year" resolutions. Some big, some little...
This school year I resolve to:
1. Write daily - it moves me, inspires me, helps me think things through, and keeps me grounded. I need to make it more of a priority, because it brings me such peace.
2. To strengthen my changing relationships with my oldest two children. They're growing so fast - into an age where they spend more time with their friends, confiding less and less in me. I want to work on maintaining a good relationship with them.
3. To be more organized and habitual in my housekeeping.
4. To scrapbook more.
5. To continue trying to reforge stronger ties with my family - to communicate more and about more important stuff.
6. To continue my education. Perhaps with a degree in English.
7. To create a "project" to undertake - like paper recycling at the school.
8. Try and reconnect with or start a book club.
9. To make a life to do list and start doing it.
10. To plan a trip to Italy and go.
11. To eat better.
12. To walk daily - building up to 8 miles per day (New Zealand here I come).
13. Read more.
14. Be more earth friendly. Use recycled products whenever possible, drive less, and use environmentally friendly cleaning supplies. Overall to reduce my footprint.
This school year I resolve to:
1. Write daily - it moves me, inspires me, helps me think things through, and keeps me grounded. I need to make it more of a priority, because it brings me such peace.
2. To strengthen my changing relationships with my oldest two children. They're growing so fast - into an age where they spend more time with their friends, confiding less and less in me. I want to work on maintaining a good relationship with them.
3. To be more organized and habitual in my housekeeping.
4. To scrapbook more.
5. To continue trying to reforge stronger ties with my family - to communicate more and about more important stuff.
6. To continue my education. Perhaps with a degree in English.
7. To create a "project" to undertake - like paper recycling at the school.
8. Try and reconnect with or start a book club.
9. To make a life to do list and start doing it.
10. To plan a trip to Italy and go.
11. To eat better.
12. To walk daily - building up to 8 miles per day (New Zealand here I come).
13. Read more.
14. Be more earth friendly. Use recycled products whenever possible, drive less, and use environmentally friendly cleaning supplies. Overall to reduce my footprint.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Dream
I had a dream last night about Randy - which I guess in hindsight given how much I have thought about him over the last few days - shouldn't really surprise me.
In my dream, I was younger than now, and I was sitting in a play tent with some little children reading stories. He came into the tent, and I was at once surprised and uncomfortable that he was there. But as he looked in my eyes I sensed sorrow and an apology. He leaned over and gently kissed me on the forehead, whispering I'm sorry in my ear.
Not that I have wanted him to kiss me, but I think I have been waiting, and in some way hoping, to hear I'm sorry for twenty years now. And some part of me felt huge relief - grateful to see that he knew what he had done had hurt me so deeply.
But then the dream changed. I was back in my dad's kitchen and he came up behind me, as he so often did, and started kissing my neck and slid his hand down the front of my pants. And I realized that nothing had changed. Nothing except for me.
I woke then, shaking and crying, surprised at how the thought of him touching me could still sicken me so much - could still make me feel nauseous and helpless. And I know that no matter how much I've tried to tell myself that the most damage he did to me was emotional - not physical - that the effects of what he did to me sexually aren't what really bother me, I know that it is just another lie I have been trying to sell myself for a really long time.
So much hurt that just resurfaces from time to time - to completely unhinge me. God, why can I not forgive this man and move on?
Was my dream really just an adaptation of my internal struggle with forgiveness that I've been thinking so much of lately? Am I supposed to finally understand that it doesn't matter to me, only to God, whether or not he truly repents?
In my dream, I was younger than now, and I was sitting in a play tent with some little children reading stories. He came into the tent, and I was at once surprised and uncomfortable that he was there. But as he looked in my eyes I sensed sorrow and an apology. He leaned over and gently kissed me on the forehead, whispering I'm sorry in my ear.
Not that I have wanted him to kiss me, but I think I have been waiting, and in some way hoping, to hear I'm sorry for twenty years now. And some part of me felt huge relief - grateful to see that he knew what he had done had hurt me so deeply.
But then the dream changed. I was back in my dad's kitchen and he came up behind me, as he so often did, and started kissing my neck and slid his hand down the front of my pants. And I realized that nothing had changed. Nothing except for me.
I woke then, shaking and crying, surprised at how the thought of him touching me could still sicken me so much - could still make me feel nauseous and helpless. And I know that no matter how much I've tried to tell myself that the most damage he did to me was emotional - not physical - that the effects of what he did to me sexually aren't what really bother me, I know that it is just another lie I have been trying to sell myself for a really long time.
So much hurt that just resurfaces from time to time - to completely unhinge me. God, why can I not forgive this man and move on?
Was my dream really just an adaptation of my internal struggle with forgiveness that I've been thinking so much of lately? Am I supposed to finally understand that it doesn't matter to me, only to God, whether or not he truly repents?
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