Trinity

Ocean

Ocean (Photo credit: ouistitis)

Strange it seems, but could it be

Easier to be someone else instead of just being me

Becoming you when with me I am not pleased

Oblivious to winds that roar o’er the waves of stirring seas

Sand between my toes

As I ponder not on recent woes

Walking along to pick up shells

While conjuring memories of my former selves

Who made their homes on decorated shelves

Aloof from imagined waves crying when all is not well 

To be out of the elements is to find a perfect spot

Far away from who I used to be but now am not

Dwelling on my befores that fulfill no more

Still I beckon their return when my now waxes sore

I must move on for the days are not long

In a world where wrong is right and right is therefore wrong

But truly do these two only in our minds exist

Or could it be our minds that choose these two to twist

Nevertheless we press on in search of that higher ground

Blocked by an eon’s horizon ’til eternity’s  sun goes down

Now lives faithfully as does before

I shall abide in them until time causes them to live no more

I at that time will with me and myself become one

Just as I Am when forever is come

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Aside

The Day Before Mother’s Day

It has been four years since my mother passed away, but somehow it does not seem that long. The years have simply gone by in a flash although the first days after it happened were very difficult. It seemed that time moved rather slowly- painfully slow, and later on time began to fly and the next thing I knew, I had made it through the first year with my sanity somewhat still in tact.  Her birthday was on Dec. 13, my youngest son was born on Jan. 13, and she passed on Feb. 13…strange…I normally am not a ‘numbers’ person, but  the number thirteen has become quite significant to me now.

I thought that I would be sad and depressed when this time of year rolled around but that is not the case. The death of my parents had always been my greatest fear in not knowing whether I would be there to actually witness their last breath…I was not there although I had been with them both the day before.

The mind can be a very strong force in one’s life especially when that person is unwilling to face reality due to their greatest fear. I literally watched my parents dying gradually each day for many months but even up until the last day that I saw my mother in the hospital, and despite the telling dreams that I had which I assume were for the purpose of preparing me for the inevitable, my mind simply ‘put it away’ of course until it happened. An unnatural calm came over me as I casually informed my husband and then seven-year old daughter that momma was dead. That is how I said it – calm voice, “Momma is dead, I need to go to the hospital.” All while I hand pumped enough milk for my 4-week-old during my absence. Despite the reports from nurses that she would be okay, I still knew deep down that she would not leave that hospital as she came in. How does one know and not know at the same time? Well, I did. A couple of days beforehand, I was on the phone with her and my oldest sister. She was talking gibberish, (which was really big hint) that I ignored, and suddenly completely coherent, she told my sister good-bye. Then she went back to the gibberish talk and a chill went down my spine when she called out to her own mother and brother saying, “I’m ready!” My heart sank. And there was total silence on the phone for some time before my sister who was in the room with her took the phone and we hung up – my hands shaking like a leaf.

I am having a really hard time writing this. At first I was not going to write a Mother’s Day post, but something keeps telling me to do it through silent tears and despite this cruel discomfort that I didn’t even know I had. I guess it is to make a point and to help myself understand what has lain dormant in my heart for some time. Maybe it will help someone else too.

Several months before her transition, I had a dream (one of many) that let me know what would happen eventually. Both of my parents were plagued with health problems. My father lay helpless in the VA while my mom struggled but was still somewhat active. She was still walking, talking, etc., still  functioning with the exception of those days when nothing was normal. (another hint) Anyway, the dream went like this…I am holding my moms hand, my oldest sister is holding my father’s hand and we are high up on some type of platform (it was blue) and felt like those inflated moonwalkers and slides that kids play on.

I still don’t know what that meant, but we were surrounded by clouds and blue skies overhead although we seemed to be inside of somewhere. Mom and I seemed to be in a hurry as we were jogging along trying to get to this wooden door, so I looked back to see that my sister and dad had come through the door behind us. All of a sudden as mom and I are right in front of this door, she wriggled her hand out of mine (I was holding very tightly) and she said, “I’m here now, I gotta go!” The door opened, she ran through, I saw clouds and blue skies, and the door quickly closed in my face. I could hear my dad struggling on the unstable platform as he tried to run…my sister was holding his hand and I grabbed the other. Upon reaching that same door that my mom went through, it opened again as my sister and I still holding his hands swung him into the clouds and the door closed. I looked down to see that there was a clear place on the platform and as I looked through it, I could see my other three sisters standing there. I don’t know what they were saying. I woke up. My parents died 4 months apart… I call both of their dying days their ‘new birthdays’.

I can’t help but think that she decided to go first because she simply could not bear to watch my dad die as he did. If he got sick, she did too and vice versa. One could not fall without the other, but after over fifty years who would?

For many weeks afterwards, I continued to have a series of extremely realistic dreams so much that upon awakening, I had to remind myself that my parents were no longer on this earth, (It still happens to this day) but that night at the hospital when my daughter and I went to see my mother’s body (I didn’t know whether to take her or not, but she was not taking no for an answer), I combed her hair for the last time, cried, and my daughter sang a song as the family stood around saying their last words. Once home and in bed, I was freezing and my husband held me in a fierce embrace contemplating the ‘breakdown’. It didn’t happen. I actually began to go back and forth – dozing and waking right back up. I distinctly remember not being completely asleep when the strangest thing happened. Lost in thought about how to go to tell dad (he seemed to already know), I felt my mom’s hand cupped on the side of my face like one does when preparing to whisper a secret. She spoke directly into my ear (not a whisper – I heard clearly) saying, “I wanted to go, now you handle it.” Of course I called out to her, “Momma?!” She sounded as if she was in a hurry. “You heard me…I wanted to go now you handle it from now on!” I immediately awoke my snoring husband to tell him what had just happened…he understood, I thanked God and slept peacefully with no dreams.

I made the arrangements with some help from my siblings…the funeral was beautiful…not much standing room it was so full…I kept checking the side mirror en route to the burial and never did see the end of the line up which practically wrapped around the entire cemetery.

A lot happened in the days that followed. After two weeks, the breakdown came, but I recovered quickly as I heard my little girl awake. I am sure that her songwriting began in order to make her way through her pain, and she has the voice of a songbird. We talk often, because I know that she was unable to grasp the true meaning of what happened. She was the strongest little soldier ever until they closed the casket. I heard my baby say that she didn’t want them to close the box on Dorothy Doll (That was her nickname for her grandma as Baby Doll  the nickname given to her by my mom.) I didn’t hold her when she began to cry…she covered her little face with the program and let her tears flow although she was quiet. I froze – unable to comfort my own child as she leaned on my sister. I felt like such a failure right then and this still bothers me now. Herein lies ‘my help’  the true purpose for this post. I feel as if I abandoned her that day and she has never gotten over it although she has never said anything about it, but I know what I have to do now. We have to cry together because I don’t think that has ever happened. I have tried to be strong for her, but I feel now that this was a mistake. I  realize now that in my attempts to be strong, I am turning to stone…could it be that I am trying to keep my own pain at bay? She was extremely close to my parents but she is able to open up more now that she is a bit older…she dreams now. I thank my mom for that.

My mother had written two poems that she wanted included on her funeral program…I will be sure to post them. She was quite the poet and I thank her for passing that down to me.

I made it through the post. I guess that  my purpose for it was to say that I owe my daughter an apology and that I don’t actually feel that emptiness that people talk about when a loved one dies. Yes, I know that I cannot hug, kiss, or talk on the phone with her daily as we did before, but in a way, I feel closer to her and dad now than I did while they went through all the sickness. Their better days were already behind them and now their days are complete bliss. Of course I still have sad days, basically from what she and dad went through but my mom was also a dreamer. I thank her for passing that down to me also, and I still tell her Happy Mother’s Day…I truly believe that she hears me.

The latest dream that I had (day before yesterday), we spent the whole day together and she looked beautiful. Once again, I had to tell myself that she is not here. Nevertheless, I am a living witness that ‘weeping may endure for a night but joy comes in the morning’.

Aside

May 2, 2013 Blog Dare Prompt – I Will Never Lose…

my faith in God. There have been so many instances and incidents where I could have easily given  up and said screw it all, but why would I do that?  If my mind and heart has been staid all of these years up until now, I figure that there is no reason for me to change unless something so drastic happens that I have no choice. I am here to tell you now that the beginning of my very life was so drastic once I learned about it as well as one other situation during my childhood that I am convinced and that there is not much left that can  change what I believe now…it just wouldn’t make much sense to say that what has occurred over my lifetime was merely a compiled set of incidents that can only be attributed to coincidence.

Let’s begin at my entrance into this world. I know that I was there, but the fact that I was being born at the time should make clear the point that I actually had no idea what was actually going on in a realistically conscious sense. However, spiritually I must say that I very well may have known what was happening at the time, because all things work together for the good – right?

Okay. Long story short, I was not even supposed to be born because as my mother (R.I.P. Momma!) stated years ago that despite being under somewhat heavy sedation due to pre-natal distress, she could hear the doctor saying what a shame it was to have to ‘let the baby go’ in order to save the mother who had four other children to raise and that it was the best decision that he could make given the situation. He had decided that it would make more sense to save the mother of this unborn child who just happened to far exceed the birth weight that mother was able to accommodate (as never having had a baby over five pounds due to some other issue) instead of saving the baby and leaving the father with four children to raise by himself while having to work to take care of them at the same time.

This was not a common deal back in November of 1970, so the doctor stated that the child would have to be aborted immediately as a result of being too large to even attempt the journey through my mother’s severely and insufficiently capacious birth canal. For some reason, there was no time for an emergency C-section which has become the savior of today’s distressed births. I am not sure if there were no epidurals back then or what – I just remember Momma saying that time had run out and there was no other choice but to inevitably abort.

Keeping in mind that I was a rather sneaky kid who did not always follow the golden rule of actually leaving the room when ‘grown folks’ were talking, I could overhear the discussion one night as Momma and whoever company was (probably her sisters who were all in agreement that this was one of the most frightening times of their own lives) reminisced over the situation some odd years later. I will never forget how badly I regretted being a master eavesdropper that night which in turn caused me to obey that golden rule from then on…mostly anyway.

She then began to describe what she was thinking (while under) about how her precious baby would die and how devastated she would be afterwards. The next statements really threw me for a loop as she spoke about how she heard a ‘voice’ telling her to push regardless of the fact that she had already heard her OBGYN say that she would die upon giving birth.  The story went on to describe how my mom felt herself tearing as I came out while the doctor and his crew frantically rushed to prepare themselves for this shocking change in plans while also readying themselves to inform my dad of the deaths that were definitely in store. She said that she knew that I was here when she realized that she had totally ‘come apart’ while the staff took care of a perfectly healthy baby just before performing  a very intricate re-constructive surgery in order to try to get her back to somewhat normal. As a result, the next baby that was born into our family, Mom ended up having a scheduled C-section five years later because a regular birth was completely out of the question.

Anyway, Momma went on to describe an incident where she mentioned ‘hemorrhaging’ which could not have been good due to the fact that she said that she collapsed and was rushed back to the hospital for however long – me at the age of a few days, she had to depend on sisters to take care of the baby and the other kids while Dad worked. Apparently someone stayed at the house with us while Mom was in the hospital – I don’t remember who, but I did have some siblings who were old enough to help out.

Somehow, Momma came back home, healed, and went back to her normal mothering, cooking, taking care of home, and being the best mother that anyone could ever ask for. She attributes us making it through that ordeal strictly to God because of that voice along with the rest of the miraculous events such as her very survival. She told everyone that I was her ‘miracle child’. Though I had no idea of how to live up to that name, I tried my best although I’m sure that I didn’t do so well along the way years after, but that is my first reason for my undying faith.

The next comes from a regular doctor’s visit to my pediatrician at around the age of seven. They found a problem with my heart. Irregular beat, murmur, and after several abnormal EKGs and ultrasounds, I would need open heart surgery to correct the problem. Now, the final decision was made around the age of eleven because I was still going to my original pediatrician for some years before the problem was officially diagnosed. I cannot remember the actual name of the problem, but it was there – found by the new doctor and the specialist that he referred us to. Something about a blocked valve is all that I can really remember.

I find it strange how I can remember some things just a little bit while others as if it were yesterday, but I do remember my mom on the phone with church members and relatives speaking about them all planning to pray at certain times of the day. One day in particular, she was on the phone while ironing everyone’s clothes for the week. We were in hers and Dad’s bedroom, when I suddenly stopped paying attention to what was on TV. I saw a  little lady (that is how I remember it) appear right in front of me, bathed in white and light. Mom was talking about how they were keeping up with their prayers and how she would NOT lose me after all that it took to bring me into this world when the little lady smiled at me. We did not speak, but I knew what she was saying as she and I- apparently (as I know now), communicating telepathically. My mom had no idea of what was going on with me while this was happening and I didn’t mention it until much later.

I can distinctly remember having no fear of dying which I knew would surely happen if I had the surgery. The little lady told me that there was nothing to fear and I told her that I didn’t want to die because it would hurt my whole family and they would be crying. First of all, I could never stand the thought of either of my parents crying, but after all – I was the ‘miracle child’.  All of this was happening with no one talking except my mom and whoever she was on the phone with. The lady bathed in white and light said that great was my faith and love, so all that I needed to do was to pray for my friend. I would live and not die (she shook her head – no), but I would have some sadness in my life although I would get through that also. Little sparks of light went from her and landed on me as I accepted what she said, somehow knowing the ‘friend’ that she implied. It is still funny now how I felt that day, seeing the peace, joy, and unconditional love that I would experience, but choosing to stay put because I pretty much had it already.  The little lady thanked me and disappeared. I felt a calm as my mom hung up the phone.

She had been talking to the Avon lady who had a daughter that had become quite close to me over time. She had been scheduled to go in for the exact same surgery  that I was, but my mom and our church were praying for her too!

I said my prayer for my friend. A couple of years later in our pre-teens Taska (my friend) had gone through the same surgery that I was supposed to have had, but didn’t after the doctors could NOT find the problem that they had seen before, (believe me, they looked for it) but miraculously, it was no longer there. I could now join the marching band with no worries, and the day that Taska and her mother came to visit, I was ecstatic! She showed me her zipper just before we discovered that she also had become a flute player in her high school’s band. (There was no middle school back then) – We watched our mothers cry in relief while praising that same God that had seen fit to bring me into this world, I guess for the very purpose of being living proof that faith in Him does pay off.

I have seen many other miracles happen to others in my life…things that you would probably say are a coincidence or maybe you would even say that it didn’t even happen, but I would not be writing this if it hadn’t. I don’t knock what anyone believes and I don’t accept being knocked either, so what  happened – happened, and I am proud to say that it did. Life was different then, and today as a real-life non-church going yet full-fledged believing Christian, (I have changed my views on some things over time and I do not attribute my outcome to ‘church’ but faith), I can honestly say that… with all of this being said and much more to come…

I will never lose my faith in God.

By the way, my birth weight was 8’11!

Thanks for reading!

Aside

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