“…Ladybugs Katherine! Lots and lots of ladybugs!”
24 May 2010 Leave a Comment
in Apologies, Beginnings, children, dating, daughters, Dave, dreams, faith, Falling in love, fears, Friendship, Life, life transformations, LOVE, mothers, moving, random kindness, respect, Uncategorized Tags: blessings, boundaries, confusion, Dave, DAVE K., devotion, disappontment, dreams, fears, gratitude, happiness, hope, joy, Life, Life Lessons, Loyalty, Mark, ponderings, relationships, transformations, unconditional love
Lazing in the glorious sun in my back yard yesterday, chatting with girls and Mark about the big upcoming move, feeling mostly excited and thankfully, only mildly overwhelmed at the moment thinking of all that has to be done…all that’s to be left behind, and what’s to come… Sweet ladybug lands on my thigh, just hanging out for a moment. I try to recall what this means. I have a vague recollection of some movie or some symbolic meaning of this ladybug in this moment.
“Ladybug: Perhaps best known as an emblem of luck, the Ladybug is a love symbol too. Asian traditions hold to the belief that if caught and then released, the Ladybug will faithfully fly to your true love and whisper your name in his/her ear. Upon hearing the Ladybug’s message your true love will hurry his/her way to your side. Ancient farmers of the land have considered the Ladybug a good omen as she controls aphid populations. The number of spots on a Ladybug’s back is said to indicate the number of months to pass before the wish for love comes true.”
My ladybug flew off and then returned briefly to the same spot on my thigh. She only hung out with me for a moment…long enough for me to curiously wonder. Later I found the above explanation when I Googled animal symbolism.
Strange feelings stirred this weekend with Mark’s visit. He shared some upsetting news with me and it turned my world around. It was as if some ancient forgotten feelings were gently brushed. There seems to be a woman he has casually dated, who is claiming she is pregnant with his child. Oh geesh…hello and welcome to the Jerry Springer Show! What the heck is this?! I remained fairly calm at first but the feelings slowly snuck up on me as I pondered and tears threatened to spill. I was hurt.
Only last Christmas I asked him if we could have another baby. He was adamantly and decidedly against this. Mostly I was teasing him, but I was really hoping at the same time. A part of me longs to know what a planned pregnancy feels like before I hang up my reproductive abilities forever. I love our children and wouldn’t think to change a thing regarding them, but I have the saddest sense of never knowing the excitement that comes with learning I am pregnant, in spite of the fact that I have two fabulous children. I only know the, “Oh my GOD! I’m pregnant..what the heck should/am I going to do?” I don’t know the, “Yay…LOOK we’re having a baby!” feeling. At one point, I was absolutely certain I would have this with Dave, but that’s not going to ever be and I resigned myself to the mercy of my children’s father hopefully granting me the third and first expectedly planned child. Again, not to be…
And now this…a “stranger” having a child with MY children’s father? A half-brother or sister right in the delicate era when I’m desperately trying to explain intelligent life-choices to my teen/pre-teen girls? Immediately following my pleadings for a planned child? It’s upsetting to me in a very selfish way and in a not-so-selfish way in regards to my daughters and the family we have created in spite of the divorce. Mark confessed strong hunches and disbelief that this really is his child. I admit I share these hunches, but I can’t tell if this is wishful, desperate hope or actual intuition. Really feels like intuition, as the circumstances surrounding this pregnancy as relayed by Mark, are clouded in a dark suspicion. Apparently he had “the” conversation with this woman and even prior to their intimate relations which resolutely explained his unwillingness and total lack of desire for any more children. I certainly am no hypocrite and fully understand taking chances and what happens sometimes, as I have one unplanned child with this man and another one who borders between the planned and unplanned – but purposely and knowingly (on both our parts) taking a BIG chance area. However, something just feels different with this. Mark and I never had this conversation he had with this woman, until last Christmas…years after our two children’s births. And keeping these children was never a thought to Mark. He would discuss no other options with either actually.
I did finally find my voice to say softly, “Dammit, I wanted us to have one more and I even begged you last Christmas!” I was a little comforted when he replied, “I know and it would be totally different if this was you.”
Something passionate and historically forgotten (but not lost?) for this man, this unbelievably fantastic father of my children, awoke with those words. Momentarily I forgot my sadness and the- what-will-this-do-to-our-children fears and it dawned on me that there IS one person on this planet with whom it is different for me in a good way. A place on this earth where I have carte blanche and the huge margin of error I’ve never known and always hoped to have somewhere in my lifetime…or recognized might be the more appropriate word? Hindsight tells me I always had it here, but never fully realized or comprehended. And as hurt and afraid and sad as I felt, it was temporarily overcome by love for this beautiful man, who after everything, does love me and does put me in a position of greater respect. This man who, other than our two terrific children, has more reason than anyone to NOT put me in this position. The same man who knows of so many of my faults, mistakes and truly ugly characteristics…still chooses to give ME this place, this status, this beautiful acceptance and WIDE berth of error.
I flash back to the deciding moments I’ve had with Mark. The tearfully spoken “Ummmm…guess what?” moments in which this man responded with every support and every ounce of respect any one could offer a woman in such frightening times. He never once veered in his choices to want and to love our children, unexpected, unplanned, whatever…. Never once. I did. I was confused and scared and undecided..reflecting on ALL our options. While he, he was stout and strong and beautifully decided. And my selfish, spoiled self rears its ugly head now to scream at this other woman, “Na na na na boo boo…I’M the mamma dammit…I’m the wanted Mamma. He was never willing to discuss adoption or abortion with me!” It never even occurred to me that Mark had any other responses to, Guess what? I’m pregnant than full and total support and strength. Seems he does. Although in my defense, I was not a grown woman with a professional career who engaged in the I DO NOT want any children discussion with him just prior to our pregnancies. Seems as though our accidents were more in the area of mutual accidents and never came across as even possibly planned or pre-meditated, as this situation screams.
I have not always acted honorably in our various life challenges as people or as parents with Mark. In fact, there are many occasions when I have acted horribly and been just mean and hateful. I can blame some of these on circumstances, innocence, and youthful self-righteousness and I have had cause to regret them anyway, but they will now always be sources of shame for me after this one little sentence he spoke like a gift from God. Have I really given Dave K. every chance, every forgiveness, every excuse for a million horrible and hateful beyond explanation behaviors and actions against me while being selfish and stingy with these in regards to my children’s father, who has repeatedly and thoroughly proven himself as far more deserving of forgiveness and acceptance than this, or any, other man? Am I this blind?
I was. I must have been. Was the intoxicating joy and perfection I felt with Dave and never once prior so much that it knocked me senseless and blind to see the beauty of Mark’s love and respect for me? I’ve always been admitting and openly praising of Mark as a man who worked hard to change his early shortcomings and surprisingly became the greatest father I could have ever hoped for my children. I have almost always been open to seeing this and believing in it from the actions-speak-louder-than-words faith, but I just never really “got it” fully. Am I part of the reason he succeeded so well in this?
I never would have guessed or presumed this. EVER! And it smacked me so beautifully and lovingly that I was taken aback with a brand new love and gratitude for Mark, the most beautiful father, ex, and friend any woman could dream of. I fell just a little bit back in love with him this weekend. Whoa…life sure is surprising in its sudden and totally unexpected twists and turns! I can’t even imagine what this will or will not bring… or what it even means…
Alexander Supertramp
13 May 2010 Leave a Comment
in Beginnings, broken heart, children, daughters, Death, fears, George A., Life, Life Lessons, life transformations, LOVE, respect, Writing Tags: admiration, adventures, books, courage, disappontment, disrespect, heartbreak, jealousy, Life, Life Lessons, LOVE, parents, radical acceptance
Into the wild. Wow…what a story!
A deep respect for Alexander Supertramp (Christopher Johnson McCandless) grew as I read of his solid character, his fierce determination and independence, and of course his stunningly daring adventures! Every person whose life he touched on his journey felt changed for the better by their association with him (That is one of my ultimate goals from the words of Mother Theresa). He must have truly been a phenomenal human being to have touched so many lives of so many different types of people and earned their respect and love!! Amazing! I adored Chris McCandless (aka Alexander Supertramp) throughout this book! His premature ending was a tragic loss for the world.
I am envious of the life he lived in his final two years – an entire lifetime of experiences gathered in two short years. I felt his self-righteousness and his need to veto all the mendacity in the world and his life as my own. I admired his ability to make such a stand and his courage in walking away from all sense of security and achieving his dream. As I read on though, I began to wonder many things. In spite of his angry resentment toward his father, had he not had the kind of parents and support he did for his entire life prior to leaving it all, would he have been the same person? Would he have had such courage? I say no. To have such a vast sense of independence and confidence as he did, he must have been given the luxury of a powerful inner sense of stability created at his core that allowed and developed such a firm and fierce stance. …Until I read of his parents visiting the “magic bus” 10 months after his death.
Suddenly, I was envious of the parents he so vehemently and immaturely resented, wishing I had such loving and accepting people as the main characters in my first 24 years of life. I gather he had some major discrepancies with his father and the deceit his parents shrouded him in for so long and I certainly ”get” that. However, some of that was standard child versus parents stuff, that period most go through when forming their own individual identity ….if they are fortunate enough to have parents who allow such growth. With my history, I could never take such a gift as that for granted. We don’t all have parents like that.
My heart tore as I pictured his mother standing sentient in that dilapidated bus, among his personal belongings at the end of his life, breathing in his clothes for any trace of scent of her son to whom she gave so very much free love and acceptance. She loved him and he broke her heart. The movie indicated that he might have come to a place of recognition and understanding of his parents before he passed, although I was disappointed to not hear of him leaving them any kind of communiqué specifically telling them and so we can’t ever know for certain. He owed them both a huge apology!
As a mother, my heart aches for Billie McCandless and wants to have a strongly worded conversation with her son, Christopher. As a child of my mother, I can’t help but have a fierce envy of this boy and his wide open life possibilities which he was afforded due to the kind of parents and upbringing he had. It’s clear he was not nearly as stifled by them as he felt he was and it’s deeply tragic to me that he passed before gaining the maturity to acknowledge and comprehend what a priceless and precious gift that was for the very life he so resented.
I ended the story feeling conflicted among feelings of jealousy, admiration, disgust and adoration for this brave and intelligent, albeit selfish and “bratty”, young man.
An interesting personal point to me in Chris’ story is that he shares the same brirthdate as one of my best friends’. Doubly intriguing in its coincidence(?) of their very similar personalities! (I confess: I’m fascinated by astrology.) George was such a quiet, intelligent, and reflective type who was fiercely resentful of his parents (with good reason at times) and always far more comfortable alone than in society or groups. He spoke often of going off into the wilderness someday and living far from what he termed the “concrete jungle”. He dreamed of building a cabin with a huge garden and just living in relative isolation, free from the deceit of government, society and materialism in the world which deeply disgusted him. The similarities between George and Chris’s personalities are truly amazing. This added to my understanding of Chris (and surprisingly, George as well) as a soul who reveled in nature and shunned all things which society represents and reveres. It definitely added even more depth and beauty to his story for me, although the story certainly doesn’t lack those things entirely in its own right. Makes me more grateful to have the opportunity to read of this unique and morally strong man and makes me miss and appreciate my friendship with George from so long ago as well.
Broken wings
12 May 2010 Leave a Comment
in abuse, Beginnings, broken heart, child abuse, children, dating, faith, Falling in love, fears, just messed up, Life, Life Lessons, LOVE, mothers, respect, Writing Tags: abuse, child abuse, childhood, cruel, desperation, destruction, domestic violence, fears, home, lost spirit, low self esteem, memories, self love, self-respect, vulnerability, WTF
She felt like a child still in so many ways…wondering why the world always seemed to roughly push against her when she tried to stand up for herself and expect to be treated like an equally important member of society… It was so uncomfortable to stand up for herself against anyone for any reason at all and the slightest resistance or push back and she just crumbled…feeling more and more weak and pathetic. She often wondered why she was so easy to knock down?
As a child, she hadn’t been permitted the luxury of finding her own way, questioning authority, having opinions, or expressing any type of individuality. These things simply had not been permitted or tolerated in any form. What evolved from this was a fearful person; one who fit smoothly into the world and so many lives of others merely because she wasn’t equipped with a backbone to go against the grain, much less, stand up for herself. Although it sometimes seemed to her that she’d been born without a back bone, a genetic deformity of sorts, logically she understood her mother had removed it entirely over a slow and degrading 17-year-long process. A few times when it seemed one might be trying to develop in her, it was quickly squashed and eliminated. One did not question adults, either respectfully or otherwise. No questions whatsoever. One liked whatever one was given, one liked what other people liked if one wanted to BE liked or ever hope of being loved. Always just smile and go along with it. This made her an easy target for all types of abuse and manipulation.
So at 5, she didn’t question the teenage boy who insisted she go into his bedroom with him every day. She didn’t question the other babysitter either, an even older teenage girl who manipulated her even further. She didn’t question the elementary school janitor who groped beneath her panties after school. They were so much older and she desperately wanted to be a “good girl”. She wanted to be liked and thought well of and maybe if she was ever good enough, someone would come along who could love her. And anyway, she learned from a very early age that if you didn’t like something, you’d better keep your mouth shut and pretend to or it promised to get far worse. Plus, she didn’t want to be the fussy, problem child. God forbid she be an insolent, precocious type child who disgusted the adults with sass or youthful curiosity! She longed for love and acceptance..ached for it actually from her earliest memory on… Thus, she never questioned or argued, never pushed back against any type of authority…no matter how uncomfortable or wrong it felt. She didn’t suffer from a lack of identity, inner strength, or sense of righteous indignation, she simply never was permitted to develop any from the beginning. She was always a chameleon, learning to quickly change colors and quietly blend in with whatever color seemed safest in any given circumstance or moment. Somewhere buried inside her was envy of those people and children who had no trouble speaking their minds or pushing back against an authority figure if they did something which seemed wrong. She envied them the security that came from knowing if they just did the right thing for themselves, someone bigger and more powerful would be there to support and protect them.
Ironically, the catch-22 started hitting her early. She was so hungry for love and affection, any type of acceptance would be welcomed. This must have been obvious and she was often treated cruelly by her peers or friends. She early on became the common door mat for many to wipe their frustrations and insecurities. When she was hurt and tried to discuss this with her mother, desperate for some consolation, compassion and perhaps even just a little sense of support, mother would yell at her for letting people treat her badly. This was always so confusing! She wasn’t supposed to expect better, much less demand anything better, right? Be quiet and content with what you have, or else…it will only get worse. All she knew for certain is she wanted to feel loved and had to be quietly unassuming and accepting so it would not get even worse.
After she left mother’s home and had her very first official boyfriend, she soon realized she had attracted a violent man. A Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde type man who worshipped and adored her more than she’d ever experienced before, but also would get very angry if she upset him intentionally or otherwise. This was especially hard for her to handle with any self-respect. There was the back-bone issue of course, mixed with the open affection and love that flowed freely in moments when her boyfriend wasn’t angry with her. She knew she wanted more of that, in fact she felt a bottomless pit of need for this love. How could she walk away from the first person who loved her enough to defend her to others, even if he did physically attack her himself? At least he didn’t allow anyone else treat her badly. He loved her most of the time and at least this way the cruelty only came from one person, instead of several. This was better than anything she had ever known before!
After a few years of his random and violent beatings she realized she must escape soon when he started openly threatening her life if she tried to leave. She turned to her mother for help… scared and begging for a place of refuge. Mother said, “You’ve let him treat you like this for years now…so you deserve what he dishes out. You must like it to have stayed so long. Give it a few years and then if I can believe that you’re really not going to go back to him again, maybe I will help you at that point.”
Give it a few years? He had recently forced her into his car and kidnapped her for an afternoon and another time recently had threatened her with a gun. She never once called the police on him (not wanting to get him in any trouble), and when concerned neighbors would hear and called the police, they never helped. In spite of her obvious busted lips and bloody noses, they would always say something like, “You two need to separate for a while and work this out on your own.”
Dad would take one look at her black and swollen eyes and say, “Honey, what did you do? You know how sassy you can be…you must have said or done something to really set him off this time. You have to learn to watch your mouth, girl.”
Give it a few years? The violence was escalating amazingly fast. She had no where safe to run and she didn’t believe she would last another few years.
In this desperation, she did what she had to do to get free and after a few years of counseling later in life, she realized that mother hadn’t allowed her to have a backbone or to develop any self-respect and then punished and criticized her further for being “weak”. No one was ever going to stand up for her and she didn’t have the strength or self-confidence to ever stand up for herself, she wanted to be loved too much to ever take that chance. It was a no-win situation. She was the world’s punching bag, literally and figuratively… and she could never lose the fear that if she didn’t learn to accept this, it could always get worse.
With this innate sense of constant fear and drastic lack of self-respect or entitlement, she set out in life, mostly hoping not to be noticed much and praying someone safe someday would.
The unmistakable waste of regret
08 May 2010 Leave a Comment
in abuse, Apologies, broken heart, children, Dave, Death, dreams, faith, fears, Life, LOVE, mothers Tags: DAVE K., loss, LOVE, memories, pain, regret, unconditional love
I wonder how he feels…what it must feel like to lose someone in that time, in that way? It hurts inside me to ponder this as Mother’s Day approaches in spite of the fact that it’s a Hallmark holiday. I wonder this all year really. It just seems to become more pronounced at this time.
He said I was “so much like her”. He said she was always doing kind things for people and getting hurt and taken advantage of. He said it made him so mad to remember her standing at the sink doing dishes every day and how he wished he had offered to help or told her to sit down and let him do them. It was the only time I heard regret in his voice, shouting through his soft and nonchalantly spoken words. The only time ever when he was sober and before we ended.
A few times in his late-night intoxicated visits after, I distinctly heard regret in his voice, in his words, and could even see it in his eyes. His regret for the mass of hateful stories he told his friends and family about me and could not rescind. His regret at the scars on my face which he readily acknowledged were not there until after we separated and after the torture began. A few times of regret at his very arrival to me. He is unlike me; he is not a man of regrets. And I must wonder if those regrets were mere manipulations from a man who deeply understood how to get away with abusing my spirit….all it takes is to create the tiniest of sympathies and my heart, no matter how angry or hurt even just prior, would soften to jello and ache for him. It could even ache for how he hurt me, when he hurt me, as he was hurting me…
Otherwise, he was never a man of regret, except that one time…about her. So naturally I think of him this time of year and I think of her, the woman in his life who was so forgiving and so easily taken advantage and regretfully taken for granted.
I never asked him any questions about her. I really didn’t know how to broach such a horrible subject of which I had no experience and no way to ease the pain, except with my love…with my devotion… After such a horrible loss, these things didn’t seem to qualify. So I never asked…
I wish I had asked him questions. I never knew here and yet she has visited me in a few dreams. I can sense her thoughts it seems sometimes and I know that it can’t be, but I’d swear I can… I miss her for him and I didn’t even know her. I pray he doesn’t hurt too much today. I pray that today he has a woman’s love and devotion whom he trusts not to ever hurt him, disappoint him… or leave him.
He has never been a man of regret, while I am nothing much but a regretful woman whose regret was never enough.
Confession…
06 May 2010 2 Comments
in Beginnings, broken heart, Cheating, dating, Dave, just messed up, Life, Life Lessons, LOVE, random kindness, signs Tags: broken dreams, Broken hearts, compromised, DAVE K., destruction, dreams, dysfunction, faith, falling in love, mistakes, promises, truth, unconditional love, unfaithful, WTF
I was unfaithful. I cheated myself, my children, my heart, my faith, my hope, my spirit, my character. Not only that, but I cheated Dave and worse yet, I cheated all of these things from him as well. I cheated every one of everything that was right and good in our lives.
As with anything and everything, there is certainly more to the story and sometimes in fleeting moments of denial, I can comfort myself with those factual, but sad and pathetic extenuating circumstances, but for the most part, I cannot.
Is it wrong to have thoughts at times which say, “Surely there was something he did wrong before the infidelity…” I would actually attempt to distort something (anything) he once did or maybe once said even just one single time that was slightly unkind or perhaps alluded to some kind of future abuse or psychosis….
Nothing.
And many have said to me there must have been something? There had to have been. You couldn’t have been truly happy or it wouldn’t (couldn’t!) have happened.
Nope. Clear as a miserable bell, I know I was very happy. I knew it then (can’t blame this on hindsight either). I know it now.
Too happy? So happy it didn’t seem possible to realistically maintain? Yeah…frighteningly happy? Like when you go to a horror movie and the happy music is playing and there’s sunshine, laughter, security abounding and you wait on the edge of your seat, heart beating, pulse racing, and your logic silently screaming, “It’s coming!” You know any second something horribly tragic is going to explode on the screen. It must. You don’t want it to come but something in you knows you really do want it because that’s what you’ve ultimately come to the cinema to see, right? After all, you’ve specifically asked for this tragedy with the price of your ticket.
That kind of happiness. Scary happy. Waiting-for-the-other-shoe-to-drop-happy.
Only it never did. And it surely had to… Right?
So, it seems I forced it to drop. Was the anticipation too much? Did the happy part go on and on so long that my heart couldn’t take the wait anymore? Was logic screaming so loudly at me that I couldn’t relax in that kind of happy? Had life taught me too well already that this was only possible in fairy tales? My life certainly had never been anything near fairy tale quality. I was no long-lost beloved princess finally saved from all the evils of the world by my fair prince who had been looking for me all his life. There was no way this existed on any plane of reality possible for me…
There were no signs of impending doom. There was no cruel undertone in something he even once casually said in a quiet or controlling voice. There were no sarcastic words; no subtle insults to my character, my appearance, or my intelligence, phrased as a “joke” so as to make it acceptable to keep me in my place or put me down sub-consciously. …except in my logic. In my brain and my experiential wisdom there was always this little nudge. Nudge, nudge – another day full of kindness has passed… another day of sincerely spoken compliments, loving gestures, and sweet-nothings has passed… the music of my logic is getting scarier and scarier… Da-da-da-dum, da-da-da-dum…playing faster and faster. The bad guy is coming. The moment of tragedy is hanging in limbo directly over your head. It’s just hanging there waiting around till you feel so safe and comfortable that it’s definitely not coming…for full, tragic effect, you know…
I might even be able to convince myself that this is only the hind-sight story of a romantic hopeful, the rose-colored version of falling in love where nostalgia and regret fade the facts and amplify the colors of happiness to such a vibrant shade that the bad stuff disappears into oblivion. Except, I was so overly aware of this unrealistic happiness that I spoke regularly of it to my dad, whom I knew would understand that this wasn’t logically possible. Whom I expected to point out the tiny ugly realities I HAD to be missing throughout this experience. And even he couldn’t. My wise and all-too logical father could only continually remind and reassure me that I deserved this happiness and offer advice to me to accept it or else by looking so hard for the ugly, I would eventually make something ugly happen.
What? Make it happen?? That’s not possible! I’m gloriously happy. No person desperate for happiness, like me, would ever create the very unhappiness they fear and dread from a gift so pure and beautiful it must be directly from God. That’s just some psychological mumbo-jumbo! No one in their right mind, finally experiencing happy without a single sign of impending doom on the horizon would sabotage such beauty, such intoxicating joy of life, such a sense of security and love. NO….don‘t be silly!
Hindsight does, though, strongly indicate to me that there was another sneaky element going on through this. One I could never have anticipated or braced myself to handle. The sneakiest of subtle sabotage tactics, so very tricky that it just hung out in the corner recesses of my mind, innocently playing all alone and not mingling ever with the other thoughts and fears which were obvious enough for me to ask advice from those wiser than I. Quietly gaining power and strength…
I am not worthy…
This sneaky element of sub-conscious sabotage actually came out in the light only once.
Right around maybe the sixth month marker, we had gone for a few drinks away from the crowd of friends, romantically alone, and were laughing and enjoying ourselves. Having a nice traditional date in out-of-the-way places where we could adore each other uninterrupted by the “Ahh you two lovebirds make the rest of us sick!” And I was loving every minute of this until it dawned upon me. Maybe this was even the first moment I ever had seen my happiness so very clearly and felt it to the core of my being, minus the what-if’s and can’t-be’s. And I said to him, “What is this? I’ve never known anything like this. It can’t be real, can it? And if it is, there’s no way I deserve this much. Here is why….” And I commenced to tell him why I didn’t deserve this…deserve him, deserve genuine love…
And then he said one of the most beautiful things I’ve heard anyone say in my life that wasn’t written in a song, a book, or a movie…
…He said, “Every single horrible thing that has happened to you or me, every single bad choice or mistake we might have made in our pasts, every single thing right wrong, good or bad, has brought us right here right now. And we have to just be grateful for it ALL and know that this was why it ALL happened exactly as it did. If not for that exactly, whatever it may have been, we would not be here with each other right now in this exact moment, having this.”
I choked up. A huge lump in my throat developed, my eyes stung and threatened to cry as every horror-movie moment of my past flashed across my mind and I saw every path of it leading me, sometimes even forcing me to this moment with him. He was so wise and so right. He could see more broadly than I. My devotion, my respect, my gratitude, my understanding quadrupled in that moment, with those stunning words of amazingly insightful wisdom. And suddenly everything made sense. Everything. Every pain and every struggle from my earliest memory I could instantly and directly connect to the events (forced or otherwise) which led me to RIGHT HERE, directly to HIM. A million individually ugly tiny puzzle pieces of time dropped at once, snapped into place, and created a gorgeous sunrise shimmering with love and happiness. And I could think of each one and actually FEEL each and every one of them as reasons to be grateful for it all.
I loved his simplicity…adored it even, amidst my confounding and irritating contradictions. And it was in this moment that I realized his “simplicity” wasn’t so simple after all. I saw him in an entirely new light of love and blessings. And it was also then that I began to fully realize that this might indeed be real…that perhaps the other shoe was not ever going to kick me in the face after all. A most beautiful moment… Or the beginning of the end?
Less than a year later and ironically while singing his praises, my blessings, and this very theory of deserved, “everything happens for a reason” happiness, I cheated.
Yes………. I cheated.
Tweet-tweet memories
02 May 2010 Leave a Comment
in abuse, Beginnings, broken heart, Dave, dreams, faith, Falling in love, fears, Life, LOVE, marriage, signs Tags: Dave, DAVE K., faith, fears, grace, gratitude, happiness, heartbreak, hope, hopeless, journeys, joy, LOVE, memories, nostalgia, unconditional love
Early morning, birds chirping….so many memories…
She was a junior in college, working the swing shift at a casino in Mississippi…driving home with Jennifer at 4 am, laughing, feeling so brave, fresh, young, self-confident, and maybe just a teensy bit cocky! Arriving home at daybreak and lulled to sleep by tiny spirited chirps. Birds chirping sweetly mean freedom and independence and they whisper softly to you in your dreams that life is just beginning…
Later, she was married…waiting and worrying through sleepless nights for him to arrive home safely. Sitting up with exhaustion night after night as she heard the birds sweetly start chirping, like an alarm clock confirming another full night of his absence…wondering why… Wondering what… Remembering his stories of frighteningly excessive cocaine use and bird chirping confessions regarding his first wife. Realizing that this alarm clock no longer brought happy thoughts of freedom and a life unwritten, full of opportunities to create future happy memories. Now this charming sound indicated it was long past time to lock the door. Yes. Lock the door. Birds chirping sweetly mean your husband is still using drugs and your marriage might be a terrible mistake.
Some years and a nasty divorce later, she often stayed at his house. Him….the only him for her. The one who brought joy to her simplest thoughts and hope from her worst fears. The one who showed her how to smile while sleeping and taught her to wake with excitement and promise…the only one. She loved that he would wake early and go fishing… Birds chirping sweetly as nature’s background music as he made love to her. He hated leaving her alone in his bed and simply had to have her in the wee early mornings when watching her sleep made him want her more than anything else in the world… Sometimes it seemed more like a dream and the gentle chirping reassured her this was no dream….he was real and he loved her. Kissing her softly on her still sleepy mouth before he left, she would linger in the land between dreams and reality waiting for sleep to return….knowing that when she next awoke it would be to his adoring smile and passionate, I-missed-you-so-much-before-the-sun-came-up this morning wake-up kisses. Birds chirping sweetly mean that you are the luckiest, most loved and adored woman on earth and bring millions of kisses….kisses that taste like falling deeply in love and smell like the fresh ocean breeze.
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