Sunday, March 25, 2007
I wonder if...
I wonder if you've changed.
No, I'm sure you have.
I wonder if you have changed in such a significant way
that the light that shone in the corner of the darker pessimistic you
has receded so far that you can no longer turn it up and have it beam
out of you.
I just wonder how much you've changed.
I think I'm going to really miss you when I see you again.
No, I'm sure you have.
I wonder if you have changed in such a significant way
that the light that shone in the corner of the darker pessimistic you
has receded so far that you can no longer turn it up and have it beam
out of you.
I just wonder how much you've changed.
I think I'm going to really miss you when I see you again.
Although I do...
Although I do not fully understand the actual meaning of heaven, it must be where you are.
You are lucky...
You are lucky that you never had to experience grief. I had no idea that grief would be a life long process. I thought it would be over after a certain amount of time, but it's not.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
You have been...
You have been gone a year. And I have survived. I wasn't sure I would for such a long time. The pain was so deep and intense that I thought it would surely kill me. But it didn't. I know the pain is a part of me now and will be for as long as I live. Just as you are apart of me. I miss you, my love.
I feel so...
I feel so guilty for not having been able to save you. I could have helped. I could have made a difference. How could you have done this without telling me? You have left me in shame. I didn’t deserve this.
Would you have...
Would you have been a good father to me? I'd like to think you would have been? Would you have supported me when I said (or you discovered) any of the following?
I am gay.
I am a writer.
I don't want to go to your homeland because I hate it and, in any case, I am Canadian.
I love him, he makes me happy.
I am gay.
I am a writer.
I don't want to go to your homeland because I hate it and, in any case, I am Canadian.
I love him, he makes me happy.
I thought about...
I thought about buying you a birthday present today, and then I remembered you were dead.
Hey Sis, I...
Hey Sis,
I think he's cheating on me. I found a receipt. I know. I shouldn't have sneaked around, but I had my suspicions. I asked him if he ever thought about having a fling, and he said, "No honey, of course not." Ha! The damage is done now, and I, a smiling woman, am apologizing to him for feeling insecure. Sis, I should have died, not you.
I think he's cheating on me. I found a receipt. I know. I shouldn't have sneaked around, but I had my suspicions. I asked him if he ever thought about having a fling, and he said, "No honey, of course not." Ha! The damage is done now, and I, a smiling woman, am apologizing to him for feeling insecure. Sis, I should have died, not you.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Dear Youngest Brother...
Dear Youngest Brother Michael,
It's been 12 years and not a day goes by without me thinking of you. I can remember when I use to babysit you all the time so that Mom could do the cooking. I remember taking you in the stroller for walks to the park with my girlfriend and even though I was only 14 years old, I pretended to be your Mommy. You had grown up so fast, I really don't remember much of your childhood years because I was married at 19 and lived far away. I'm sorry I didn't come by more often, but when I had my two children, Chris and Tom, I know you just loved to be around them. When you were 16 years old, you would throw them on your bed and play softball with them outside, nerf basketball, you could never get enough of them. When it was time for me to leave, you always looked so sad.
At age 20, the night of Halloween, you stopped in to see the boys and were playing with them in their beds. It started to get late, and I showed you a video of the Halloween party the kids had that day. You were mad that you had to work and couldn't be there for it. As you looked into the camera and watched the kids playing, your "laugh" will stay with me the rest of my life. It was time for you to leave, you knowing it was our last night together, and then I asked you what you were doing that night. Do you remember? You didn't answer me, but something told me inside, I knew something was wrong. I asked if everything was ok, and then asked you to be careful and that I loved you. We said our goodnights, I not knowing it was going to be our last.
The next five days, were a nightmare. My mother called me to tell me they didn't know where you were. Your four sisters and one brother all met at the house, worried about you and where you could be. I had work that day, but instead of working I was making flyers that read, "Brother Missing" with your picture on it. Standing at the copy machine, I broke down. That afternoon all of us went to place flyers all around the neighborhood on poles and in windows.
Michael, I don't know why you did what you did. We were such a loving family. I don't understand why you took your own life. We all hugged each other and dropped to the floor when we heard.
I sometimes blame you for my unhappiness right now in my life. Do you know that I am constantly afraid to let my children do things, because I think about you and I worry so much for them.
Did you know that your family is all separated now? Yes, your family has broken apart...we are no longer a happy, loving family. There are times that I feel so much anger inside. Why Michael, Why?? Why did you do it??? Do you know that I miss you so much. Well , the only thing I can do is hold on to that love we had when were all together...a happy, loving family, and until we meet again, I will never be happy.
Your loving sister,
always.
It's been 12 years and not a day goes by without me thinking of you. I can remember when I use to babysit you all the time so that Mom could do the cooking. I remember taking you in the stroller for walks to the park with my girlfriend and even though I was only 14 years old, I pretended to be your Mommy. You had grown up so fast, I really don't remember much of your childhood years because I was married at 19 and lived far away. I'm sorry I didn't come by more often, but when I had my two children, Chris and Tom, I know you just loved to be around them. When you were 16 years old, you would throw them on your bed and play softball with them outside, nerf basketball, you could never get enough of them. When it was time for me to leave, you always looked so sad.
At age 20, the night of Halloween, you stopped in to see the boys and were playing with them in their beds. It started to get late, and I showed you a video of the Halloween party the kids had that day. You were mad that you had to work and couldn't be there for it. As you looked into the camera and watched the kids playing, your "laugh" will stay with me the rest of my life. It was time for you to leave, you knowing it was our last night together, and then I asked you what you were doing that night. Do you remember? You didn't answer me, but something told me inside, I knew something was wrong. I asked if everything was ok, and then asked you to be careful and that I loved you. We said our goodnights, I not knowing it was going to be our last.
The next five days, were a nightmare. My mother called me to tell me they didn't know where you were. Your four sisters and one brother all met at the house, worried about you and where you could be. I had work that day, but instead of working I was making flyers that read, "Brother Missing" with your picture on it. Standing at the copy machine, I broke down. That afternoon all of us went to place flyers all around the neighborhood on poles and in windows.
Michael, I don't know why you did what you did. We were such a loving family. I don't understand why you took your own life. We all hugged each other and dropped to the floor when we heard.
I sometimes blame you for my unhappiness right now in my life. Do you know that I am constantly afraid to let my children do things, because I think about you and I worry so much for them.
Did you know that your family is all separated now? Yes, your family has broken apart...we are no longer a happy, loving family. There are times that I feel so much anger inside. Why Michael, Why?? Why did you do it??? Do you know that I miss you so much. Well , the only thing I can do is hold on to that love we had when were all together...a happy, loving family, and until we meet again, I will never be happy.
Your loving sister,
always.
Too damn bad...
Too damn bad it ended that way.
I mean your end. Our end was good. You hugged me tight and said "I love you."
I told you the same.
You gave me the strongest hug ever and I was choked up.
He ran up for "..one last hug!" and you gave that to him.
Then you drove away. The car drove away and you honked continuously. Around the first street, around the corner and I heard it fading into the distance.
The boy and I hugged.
"That's just like her, isn't it?"
"Yeah, that's her!"
That was the last time I heard your voice.
I mean your end. Our end was good. You hugged me tight and said "I love you."
I told you the same.
You gave me the strongest hug ever and I was choked up.
He ran up for "..one last hug!" and you gave that to him.
Then you drove away. The car drove away and you honked continuously. Around the first street, around the corner and I heard it fading into the distance.
The boy and I hugged.
"That's just like her, isn't it?"
"Yeah, that's her!"
That was the last time I heard your voice.
Hi, I am...
Hi, I am okay. I miss you. I love you. I am learning that grief is in a strange kind of way a lot like happiness. Like happiness, grief can be triggered by almost anything. The most intense grief and the most intense happiness are set off by the most unexpected of triggers. Anyway, I am happy, and I am grieving, all at the same time...still.
My friends Faith...
My friends Faith, Hope, and Joy have left the party. Now only Grief and Despair remain. I don’t know how to make them go away.
Sunday, March 4, 2007
Dear Mom, Hi...
Dear Mom,
Hi. It's been a long time since we last spoke, but only a year since your death by morphine overdose. I won't say it was intentional, because I don't really believe suicide is. Let's just say that I miss you and leave the myths and controversies surrounding the idea of "choice" for the experts to dissect and decide.
First off, I'm sorry I didn't respond to your letters, cards, postcards and packages with gifts for me and Chloe. Instead of seeing them as a loving gesture, I interpreted them as a manipulation an extension of some kind of pattern of abuse, control, valuing and de-valuing. I was scared.
In fact, the last letter you sent, the one where you said your heart was broken and you wouldn't be sending letters or packages anymore -- that one I cried. There's a little tear stain on it still where the ink-jet printer ink pic of the candles were. I knew you meant it, and still I didn't write or call.
I was going to wait you out.
I wanted you to know that I was serious -- that I was in charge of my life, not you. That your methods of intimidation, guilt-tripping and flat-out bribery hadn't worked.
But they had. I was just waiting so you wouldn't think that. I guess I just wanted to save my pride. I'm sorry for that.
In fact, I'm sorry for so much more -- for all the things I never did. For all the empty promises and selfish actions. I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I let you down.
I was scared that you would judge me. You see, Chloe has brain damage. And, it was caused by her new-born jaundice. It wasn't anything we knew about, but it could have been prevented if we did. I thought you would say "Well, you really f-ed up.", just like you did when Keith died of a heroin overdose. I thought you would smear it in my face. I couldn't stand the thought -- and I wanted to get her well first.
And there were other reasons. Each time I thought about contacting you, I imagined you hurting me, or rejecting me, or coming up with some terse response to break my heart or try to destroy me. I kept thinking "I HATE her so much!!".
2 weeks before you died I thought, "No, I LOVE her."
I went to Tim and said, "It's MY TRUTH that I need to talk with her".
And he agreed if it was that important that I should contact you.
Did I mention that I was pregnant?
Yep, I had another one!! She's a doll -- and no brain damage. We got her jaundice treated properly and she's doing so well. I've been giving her lots of hugs and love since you didn't get much from Grandma.
I just want you to know that I love you, Mom. It wasn't for lack of love that I didn't write to you - it was lack of skill. That and everyone advising me not to.
I've learned to follow my own truth now, though, at least hopefully I have.
So, now you don't just have a birthday, you've got a deathday to celebrate and yours is coming up this weekend. I've been thinking about joining you -- but the girls would miss me too much. I know you'd be upset if I left them. You stuck around for me and Rebecca, and that's what I'll do, too.
Thanks for listening. I keep thinking about Coos Bay and driving down to the bay and eating McDonalds together looking at the water. I wish we'd never moved. I wish you'd never gotten married again -- that it could have just been us all those years. Maybe you wished that, too. :)
Anyway, I love you, Mom. Happy Deathday!! Tell Gamma and Grandpa "Hi" and that I love them, too. Please come visit in ghost-form if you can this weekend. I've been pretty sad, sleeping a lot, and it would definitely cheer me up.
Love and kisses!!
~Peaches
Hi. It's been a long time since we last spoke, but only a year since your death by morphine overdose. I won't say it was intentional, because I don't really believe suicide is. Let's just say that I miss you and leave the myths and controversies surrounding the idea of "choice" for the experts to dissect and decide.
First off, I'm sorry I didn't respond to your letters, cards, postcards and packages with gifts for me and Chloe. Instead of seeing them as a loving gesture, I interpreted them as a manipulation an extension of some kind of pattern of abuse, control, valuing and de-valuing. I was scared.
In fact, the last letter you sent, the one where you said your heart was broken and you wouldn't be sending letters or packages anymore -- that one I cried. There's a little tear stain on it still where the ink-jet printer ink pic of the candles were. I knew you meant it, and still I didn't write or call.
I was going to wait you out.
I wanted you to know that I was serious -- that I was in charge of my life, not you. That your methods of intimidation, guilt-tripping and flat-out bribery hadn't worked.
But they had. I was just waiting so you wouldn't think that. I guess I just wanted to save my pride. I'm sorry for that.
In fact, I'm sorry for so much more -- for all the things I never did. For all the empty promises and selfish actions. I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I let you down.
I was scared that you would judge me. You see, Chloe has brain damage. And, it was caused by her new-born jaundice. It wasn't anything we knew about, but it could have been prevented if we did. I thought you would say "Well, you really f-ed up.", just like you did when Keith died of a heroin overdose. I thought you would smear it in my face. I couldn't stand the thought -- and I wanted to get her well first.
And there were other reasons. Each time I thought about contacting you, I imagined you hurting me, or rejecting me, or coming up with some terse response to break my heart or try to destroy me. I kept thinking "I HATE her so much!!".
2 weeks before you died I thought, "No, I LOVE her."
I went to Tim and said, "It's MY TRUTH that I need to talk with her".
And he agreed if it was that important that I should contact you.
Did I mention that I was pregnant?
Yep, I had another one!! She's a doll -- and no brain damage. We got her jaundice treated properly and she's doing so well. I've been giving her lots of hugs and love since you didn't get much from Grandma.
I just want you to know that I love you, Mom. It wasn't for lack of love that I didn't write to you - it was lack of skill. That and everyone advising me not to.
I've learned to follow my own truth now, though, at least hopefully I have.
So, now you don't just have a birthday, you've got a deathday to celebrate and yours is coming up this weekend. I've been thinking about joining you -- but the girls would miss me too much. I know you'd be upset if I left them. You stuck around for me and Rebecca, and that's what I'll do, too.
Thanks for listening. I keep thinking about Coos Bay and driving down to the bay and eating McDonalds together looking at the water. I wish we'd never moved. I wish you'd never gotten married again -- that it could have just been us all those years. Maybe you wished that, too. :)
Anyway, I love you, Mom. Happy Deathday!! Tell Gamma and Grandpa "Hi" and that I love them, too. Please come visit in ghost-form if you can this weekend. I've been pretty sad, sleeping a lot, and it would definitely cheer me up.
Love and kisses!!
~Peaches
You've been gone...
You've been gone a little over a week now but it feels so much longer. We're all kind of getting by here, doing what we can to help each other out, sorting out feelings and such as we attempt to go about our day to day. My son is doing well. He's closing in on 9lbs and I'm afraid to report he has my temper! I think you experienced that on more than one occasion as I did yours. He's a good kid, and I'll be telling him all about you in years to come. We've had a stretch of hot weather lately. I know how much you liked that. We keep him stripped down to his diaper as there's no air conditioning in our current apartment. I'm happy to say that he has got some great and gifted cousins to watch him grow and help him along his way. If I could ask for anything, it would be your gentle manner, deep understanding, and your ability to guide as I take my own steps into fatherhood. Please check in with me from time to time. My dreams are always open.
It's snowing now...
It's snowing now. Big fluffy flakes. It's beautiful. All I need now is some drug to enhance the intoxication I already feel after just having seen someone who looks remarkably like you. I love you.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
