Saying Sundays: On Prayer

"Prayer should be the breadth of our breathing, the thought of our thinking, the soul of our feeling, and the life of our living, the sound of our hearing, the growth of our growing. Prayer in its magnitude is length without end, width without bounds, height without top, and depth without bottom. Illimitable in its breadth, exhaustless in height, fathomless in depths and infinite in extension."

~Homer W. Hodge

Losing It

Losing what? I am not sure. I am not sure of much anymore.

For days I've stayed to myself... Painfully pulled away. Well, truth be told - It wasn't so much pulling away as me just stopping reaching out.

What is the point? Especially if others don't reach back or are insanely busy. I am starting to feel like a bother.

For days, I've been in a dark place - dark & difficult. I'm not depressed, I'm grieving. I know the difference, having been in both places many times, for different lengths of time.

Most don't get it. They still have their parents. Even Jake who lost his mom 10 years ago struggles to get it at times. He wants to fix this. He can't. I feel bad for him. Isn't that ironic?

I want to strangle the person who says time heals. Time doesn't heal a damn thing, it just continues on. Continues on despite everything.

I try to keep my faith - keep it close to me. I know God is carrying me bc I am exhausted & just can't do this anymore.

I have lost it. Lost myself. Feel like I have lost everything & including who I am. I will never be the same... I just am struggling. Struggling to find my new normal.

Thoughts that are dark dance in my head. I try not to entertain them, not for long... no good can come of it.

So for now, I will try to sleep. To get rest from it all. And I will pray that in the morning, light will shine through the darkness... at least for a little while.

Stays With You

{Happy Birthday, Mandy. Hope you're throwing a huge party in Heaven. I will forever miss you, but your love will be with me forever too.}

In memory of

Mandy L. Ways

10/12/76 - 4/23/09

{Mandy, At Outback Steakhouse 12.7.07}

Picture your best friend. The one who gets you without having to say one word. Who loves you freely & without any condition. The one who you can be absolutely crazy with, laugh until you pee, no matter your day, even when it's difficult.The one who has been there through it all from your parent using you as a punching bag to the man you were to marry getting killed... now, imagine them gone.

And then a little over a year later, your dad dies, you still can't have a child, & all you want is your best friend. You want her bc you know that she wouldn't be like most friends & disappear from your life or not reach back when you reach out, just bc your dad died. No, not her. She is different.

Imagine walking around wounded. Only no one can see. You go about your day like everything is fine, but it's not. Something is missing. You have changed. The world is still the same. Your best friend is in Heaven. You dad is there too. And oh, for good measure let's just throw in your aunt. You mothers best friend. The one person who understood your mom better than the rest. The one who has known you & loved you before day one.

People go about their lives. They move on. And so have you. You have moved on bc it's the right thing to do, even when it is difficult & you know that it's the only thing to really do... bc it's about living your life, not about dying.

But deep inside, you just miss them. And you know that you always will. You know bc that's what life is about. Its about loving someone so deeply that their love stays with you forever.

Missing In Action: When it Rains

So, I have been MIA, but I have good reasons.

Family.

For starters, a few weeks ago, Jake's dad wasn't feeling well & long story short - he ended up in the hospital & underwent some test. The test came back showing he had some blockages in his heart.

The doctors are trying to treat it medically with medicine at the moment & my FIL is trying to make some lifestyle changes so that his heart can get better & he can be healthy, which will allow him to stay around longer.

My FIL has no history of heart trouble before this, so you can imagine how crazy it was for me (& Jake, for that matter) to be going through this yet again, merely weeks after losing dad. Still, through it all, I tried to stay focused & not worry until there was reason to do so.

And so, I went into crisis mode & stayed there for awhile until it was safe for me let my guard down. I am so at home in crisis mode, or shall I say - it is a place that feels all too familiar. For now, & hopefully a long time, FIL is doing well, & taking better care of himself.

Then there is Damon. Damon is my brother, 8 years my senior, 2 years Lea's Junior. I know I have never really went in depth about Damon on here before now. I guess this was simply bc I didn't want to just say some stuff about him without giving him & who he was the time & attention he deserved.

Damon is my older brother who has had paranoid schizophrenia since he was a teenager. He lives in one of the few state intuitions that our left in the country & has for going on 18 years or better.

Well, Saturday morning I got a call from my grand mom asking me if I heard from anybody about Damon. When I said no, she then told me that she got a call from a trauma nurse stating that Damon is about to undergo surgery for a badly broken leg.

We are still unsure of what happen & we are trying to piece together the truth from the many different stories we are hearing from multiple sources. All I know for sure is that my brother now has 8 pins in his leg & has an external fixation attached to his leg & is do for at least one more surgery.

This week has been long & tiring... all these weeks have. I feel like lately that is all I'm doing is going from crisis to crisis. People have said to me, when it rains, it pours, which, in all honesty, I'm sick of hearing.

This is just life, & sometimes it happens like this. I just gotta keep going - moving on, moving forward bc if I stop, I may get stuck. And I want to be anything but stuck.

Saying Sundays:A Hole In The World

"Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell."

~ Edna St. Vincent Millay

Dear Dad: 2 Months Gone

{June 16, 2007}

Dear Dad,

It has been two months since you passed away. I still can't believe you are gone. It seems surreal. Time is moving so slow for me, but is flying by way too fast for me too. The world around me is spinning. I'm am slowly coming out of the shock & beginning to be able to feel again.

The majority of my friends don't understand - having never lost a parent. Before you were gone, I thought I understood when friends lost their mom or dad bc I've lost people who mean the world to me. I was wrong... so very, very wrong. Through everything that I have been through, this is absolutely the worst pain I've ever felt.

There are many friends that are not talking to me. It's like I have something they fear is contagious. Deep down, I understand... they just don't know what to say. I get it. It still hurts though. I am getting really tired of me reaching out & them not reaching back. For some, our friendship has forever altered - never to be the same.

I still find it difficult to talk to you. Not knowing what to say or how to say it. There was so much left unsaid. Stuff that needed to be said, more for my benefit then yours. I'm struggling to make sense of many the different sides of you. From the man you were to man you became. From the dad you once were & the dad you became to be. One man, broken & imperfect - just like us all.

I sat in your chair most of the day yesterday. My heart ached for you. Much like it does now. I am pissed at you too. Angry that you left me with so much to sort out, so many questions, & so much unfinished stuff.

It was you who laid in that bed as we begged you to go to the hospital. You knew this was the end & this is what you chose. By the time you were at the hospital, 5 days later you were gone. Even so, this leaves me struggling with much inside.

I want you back. I want you here. I want you to see my (non-existent) kids grow up. I want to say the things that you never let me say. Things that you never let me say bc you would utter, "Okay, Okay, I don't want to talk about it..."

Well, when Dad? When do you want to talk about it? Now? That is so unfair to me. So very unfair. I can't even talk to you now, unable to say what really needs to be said. Somewhere there is this little girl who still wants approval from Daddy. Wondering if she's doing everything okay. Not wanting to upset you.

When will I realize that stuff like that doesn't matter anymore? Nothing matters, not like that. I can't go back now. I never could.

So, I see Jake in flannel & he reminds me of you. I look at the stars & think of you. I look at Jupiter shinning bright in the sky, knowing that it will be gone in a little while - still there, but unable to be seen.

Just like you.

Love Always,

Saying Sundays: Building Character

You cannot dream yourself into a character; you must hammer and forge yourself one.

~ Henry David Thoreau

Little Girl Longing

It is raining. Almost 1 AM here. The rain has been non-stop & there are flood warnings statewide.

The pain I feel is non-stop, physically at least.

Sometimes I am still numb from shock - losing too much to fast, but it is wearing off slowly. And when it does, that pain too is non-stop.

It is like I'm walking around wounded, but no one knows it but me. There are open wounds & they are deep.

There are times when I have to remind myself that Dad is gone, never again to return. I remember when I was 5 & he took the boys & leaving me behind with mom. Here I was this little girl confused, disoriented & deeply hurt, who wanted nothing but her Daddy to come back.

This is no different.

There are things I wish I would have said. Things I wish I was brave enough to say. Things that he may or may not have known - nonetheless - things that I needed to say.

Still now, I cannot say them, not yet. It is just too much. The tears flow slowly, more freely now. I wish it wasn't so late. I would call someone I really would.

I am so tired. So very tired. And hurt. So hurt. I miss my Dad. I want to hear his voice. I want him to hold me. I don't want him to be gone. I am so not ready for him to be gone. In many ways, I'm still that little girl - who was left behind, wanting nothing more then her Daddy to come back.