letting go

i don't want to.  i didn't want to.  i thought i never would.  all of them profound. 

i am a true believer in the cliche' "things happen for a reason."  truly i believe it.  and, not to forget, "what goes around, comes around."  you may never know the reason of why something happened or why you made a certain decision.  and, you may not ever have the chance to see "what comes around" finally.  but these two statments are permanently stamped into my brain but reside in my heart for protection. 

my oldest son is almost 25.  he's married to a beautiful young lady and they have a preious little girl.  my first grandbaby.  i thought i would NEVER let go; no matter what.  he's MY son.  i tried so hard to keep the connection between us.  in every way possible i tried my best to let him know that no matter what, i love him.  it hurt.  it consumed me totally.  and right in front of me are my wonderful understanding husband and our precious little boy.  and i continued to torture myself while my family suffered.  they deserved better.  they deserved the best from me.  but, i couldn't see the forest for the trees.  but.  finally.  i let go.  with no explanation to anyone.  i turned back to my husband and son.  the life that was passing me by while i did everything i could to keep a part of my past alive.  to me it was worth it; the holding on.  but it took too much from me.  it took what i needed to give my husband and son who never wavered from what i chose to do.  mike and max were with me every step of the way.  i am blessed.  i finally realized.  THEY are my life.  and i have returned to the living. 

i will always carry a broken, bleeding, trying to mend, heart. 

i will always remember.

words matter

today i have joined a new project called "words matter."  after months of spending time bouncing from blog to blog i came across one that grabbed my heart.  dana over at roscommon ackers has been gracious enough to share her world with us.  although her world has been frought with deep deep sadness she has called us together to share the words that we think matter. 

the heart aches.  no matter what you say.  your heart does not forget.  fifteen years ago my life was turned upside.  before i knew it i was divorced and left with nothing.  including my son.  it was a bitter battle for custody.  the law stated that both parents had to see a court appointed therapist.  at the time i was living 3 states away.  i was allowed 1 hour with this therapist.  she asked "how are you feeling?"  and, by that time i was in a rage like a mother bear protecting her cub.  it wasn't pretty.

i was deemed "an unfit mother."

NO, STUPID!

when i was eleven years old i remember standing in the kitchen with my mother doing the dishes.  i remember she asked me "who won the war between the north and the south?"  well, thinking since i lived in the south i said "the south."  i suppose i was in the 6th grade at the time.  looking back i really cannot recall much about elementary school other than the things that embarrassed me.  so, there i was standing next to my mother instantly knowing i had said the wrong thing.  she stood there looking down at me with that look.  you know the kind of look that says things you don't understand and you don't know why?  it was the look that was on my mother's face every time she looked at me.  so i stood there looking up at her.  she looked at me and said "NO, STUPID!"  i felt so ashamed.  i just stood there.  i can remember as we finished the dishes her irritated, jerky, snatching movements.  yet again it was just one more instance of the disappointment she felt in me.  it hurt.  the words she said hurt so bad.  she never did tell me the "correct" answer; eventually figuring it out on my own.  years later i got the chance to go to college.  i was in my late 30s.  i was going thru a very bitter divorce and custody battle, working full time, and taking a full load every semester.  one day i received a very important letter.  it was from the college announcing my ACADEMIC EXCELLENCE.  there was to be a banquet honoring those who had accomplished that cherished goal.  i got in my car and drove to atlanta to my mother's house.  when i arrived there was just a bit of small talk before i pulled that letter from my purse.  with so much pride and a pounding heart i handed the envelope to her.  as i stood there watching her look at the envelope and opening the letter i wanted to just SCREEEAM "NOW ASK ME WHO WON THE WAR BETWEEN THE NORTH AND THE SOUTH!"  as she read the letter i calmly said "not too bad for someone who didn't know who won the war between the north and south is it?"  she looked over the top of her glasses while still holding the letter and said "you've got to be shitin' me."  i just stood there and smiled.  drawing out the moment of my glory.  the relief of feeling important and knowledgeable.  and i said "no mama, i'm not.  i never forgot what you called me.  a child never forgets."

no good night kiss

when we were little we hated going to bed.  especially me.  i don't remember being tucked in or kissed good night.  my grandpa would always tell the story of a little girl who would stand up in her bed and yell "good luck!" "good night everybody!" "good luck!" over and over.  eventually i would lay down and go to sleep.  but in the mornings when i would wake up my eyes would be all gooey and i couldn't open them.  they (i suppose my grandparents) would have to get a warm wash cloth and wipe my eyes until i could open them.  i think i was two years old.  ah, so many stories i've heard about this little girl.  my mother says that when she would come check on us before she went to bed that i would raise up right when she was leaning down to kiss my forehead.  she must have gotten a few busted lips.  the thing is i don't remember any of those times.  but what i do remember is a few years later.  i was in elementary school.  and, at night i was always afraid.  but i didn't know why.  i would lie in my bed surrounded by all my 'babies' and their blankets.  they all needed to be covered up too, right?  as i lay there, in the dark, all i could think of was that i had to sleep on my back.  i had to make sure that nothing would be able to sneak up behind me should i turn onto my side while i slept.  it took so long for sleep to take me.  to this day i am afraid of the dark.  and i don't know why.  but mike is there and i know that "he's got my back."  its very odd to me not remembering being tucked in my bed with a good night kiss.  a book was never read, a night light never left on, just knowing i lay in that bed alone and afraid.  for so long i've been so afraid.  i remember being so afraid.  that little girl lived in fear; i remember the fear. 

my imagination

when i was little, lets say early elementary,  i can remember getting in trouble and being sent to my room.  i had a little brother which meant if i was sent to my room then so was he.  this memory is after the divorce.  i can remember only 1 time when my father was in that house and he was asleep on the sofa.  after that one time that i remember i don't remember ever seeing him in that house again.  hmmm.  makes me stop and think; i never looked at it that way before.  but still.  we were little. and i would sit in the doorway of my bedroom and look down the hall straight into my brother's room.  i remember how much he played and played while we were "in trouble" and confined to our rooms.  i remember sitting there and wondering how he could PLAY.  it was like it never phased him to be sent to his room.  it didn't matter.  he just kept PLAYING.  and i would just sit there in my doorway.  i'm sure that as many cars and trucks that he had i had just as many dolls and accessories for them.  but i would just sit in my doorway.  and watch.  it wasn't until later on in my life and after i had cameron that i realized i didn't have an imagination.  i didn't know how to PLAY with cameron as he grew before my very eyes.  but somehow he did.  and there i was.  nothing.  i was a housewife and mother.  my house was immaculate but my imagination wasn't.  cameron's father was never home and when cameron was in school i was alone all day.  and most of the time cameron and i were alone until late in the evening.  so there i was in my late twenties and i had to teach myself imagination.  i look back at that little girl sitting on the hardwood floor.  in that doorway.  lost.  i don't remember what i did after we could come out of our rooms.