Friday, January 13, 2012

Moving on.



Its been a little over a year, and im still recovering. Something like that takes a part of you, and never gives it back. My father was only in his 40's. He died in my arms. You dont get over something like that.

My father battled Melanoma till he could no longer fight. I watched him change before my eyes. Im haunted.

I miss him so damn much.

Im angry.
 Im sad.
 Im numb.
Somedays I forget....
 I take that back. I never forget.

But there are moments...
Moments where I breath.
Moments where I smile.
Moments that feel wrong.

I wonder when I will be me again.

My father passing, wasnt just a death. It has shaped my entire life. People no longer know how to talk to me. My friends have moved on, and here I am, still in that room in December, with my dad.

Ive evolved into a creature who meerly survives. If I smile just right, people dont ask questions. If I say no enough, people just stop asking. If I dont answer my phone, people stop calling.

That has been my life for over a year. I didnt just loose my Dad. I lost a bit of me that Im affraid to get back. Affraid I wont get back. I built a life around Cancer. For the last 3 years, I built a life of moving on. When others were out having fun, I was at my Fathers, holding his hand, listening to him yell in pain, cleaning his home, running his errands, doing anything to make his life easier.

I felt so DAMN guilty that I wasnt there everyday for him. I watched him be the man he didnt want to be. The grandpa who was short tempered, the independent man who now needed help frome everyone. Cancer stripped so much from him. It stripped so much from me too.

How do I get me back? When you've pushed everyone so far, how do you get them back?


I feel so wrong for thinking this.
But I miss me.
I miss smiling.
I miss laughing.

So much life was lost to me.
Every holiday is shaped by death to me.
Ive been cloaked with it.
Reminded of it.
Dream of it.

I want to dream of the sun.
I want to dream of the happiness.
I want to feel life.
I want to be me,
before I became who I am now.

Save me,
From myself.


Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Sandy Memories


Everything was wondrous to you. The world just one big play thing to discover. So innocent.

To see you react to the way the sand from the Atlantic tasted as you waited in a tide pool, a remnant of the deep ocean that earlier collided on the rocks further up the embankment, the same ocean I forbid you to play in because it was currently teaming with jelly fish that had also been strewn all along the white sandy beach.

How you played in that tide pool, like it was all yours for the taking. No judgment, just delight.

A plastic purple shovel in your tiny fist. Wet and wild blond curls swaying in the breeze. Tiny granules of sand embedded on your chubby little legs and arms. You were going to conquer the world.

Cautiously you looked to make sure no one was watching, I was. Threw the corner of my eye, I was pretending I didn't notice. When small wonders had you truly amazed you wanted to experience them yourself before letting the world know what you thought. You would shy away if you thought you were being watched. Weary in case I said no.

Looking first and satisfied you were alone to your own deeds, you picked up that sugary sand, white as flour, and stuck it right in your mouth. I had to stifle my laughs, when I saw the expression on your face.

Such wonders bring my mind back to a child's. Watching you made me think to myself those same childish things. Where the moon is made of cheese and the white sandy beaches in Florida are really made of sugar or salt. I was slightly envious that my own inner voice told me NO to tasting it for myself.

For a mere moment I pretended not to see you dip your tiny pink tongue into the palm of your hand to taste the salty sand. I lived threw your expierence as I watched your face turn to acknowledgment when you realised it certianly did not taste like you expected.

I held that laugh, though itcwas hard to contain, and I did as a good parent would do. I told you no, and to get it out of your mouth all with a warm smile of course.

Later and even now thinking back on it, I eventually giggled it off. Its moments like these that make me realise the world has so much to offer and adventures everywhere, even if they are as small as having a taste. Moments with your wild blonde curls and bright blue swimsuit, taking on the world, armored with nothing more then a purple plastic shovel.

"Lead Me" by Me


"A poem I recovered from my past, found on an old flash drive."

Lead me to a life thats not my own,
but was my own when I remembered who I was.
and with all the chaos in the world, finding peace seems to be uneased.
With all the darkness threw the fog, seems to be at a loss.
Take my hand and lead me threw.
Show me what Ive yet to see.
and when all is clear open my eyes to a life that isnt my own,
but was before it all
became so dark.

Another Year.

                                    

Ayva is about to turn 7. This scares me. My little girl is growing so fast and Im at a loss to think that the years keep flying, and before I know it, she will be driving, graduating, then leaving. Dont get me wrong... I want her to grow into the beautiful woman she will be someday, I just dont like the idea that someday she will move and start her own life.

Maybe its hard to think this way, because I dont feel like my life started till I concieved her. The wild adventure we have been on together, I know I wouldnt have been able to handle with out my precious baby girl. Shes been my rock and my foundation. Shes been the kick in my arse when I needed one, and now shes going to turn 7.

Maybe I should start somewhere else with this blog. Start with the reasons for even contemplating why I even started one. Ive always wanted to write down Ayvas begginings for her. Show her how for we came, so that in the future when life gets hard, she can look back and see what we have accomplished, see that even in the deepest hole, we climbed out. I want to be honest with her about her first few years of life, so she can see that ANYTHING is possible, and that to every rain storm, theres a rainbow lurking somewhere.

Pregnant at 19 was NO walk in the park... but it was the best un-smartest thing I could have done. I was a wild child, with no grip on real life, and Ayva nailed me with a hard reality when I found out my actions have consequences, hence becoming pregnant with her.

I want to share the real story. How I met her father and became a war bride in a matter of a month. Share how we someday moved out of that homeless shelter and learned to rely on ourselves. Share how I met your Handsome Daddy and convinced him to marry me September 17th 2011. Share so many important details that get lost with time.

But first to share your first.

2004 - From Minnesota to Wisconsin.

I met Steve on an unplanned last minute trip to Fort Mccoy Wisconsin. A few girlfriends of mine were going down there to say goodbye to some soldiers they were friends with. I got to tag along.

The trip there was adventorous in itself, but not needed to be discussed. It was like any 18/19 year old escape from a home town with the girls. It was a road trip.

When we were nearing our destination to the Army Camp, we stopped in Tomah Wisconsin at a local Walmart. This is where I met him. He was a stranger in a sea of uniforms, and I thought the world of him with out knowing his name. He was handsome. Tall and lean.

The girls and I on our way out from the store, saw a bus loading a bunch of soldiers, and being like most red blooded crazy women, we parked next to it, and talked to the guys. Which resulted in us picking some of the random guys up from the base and hanging out with them that night. Mr Tall and Lean happened to be with. I wont go into too much detail, but that night I broke his nose on accident before I even knew his name. As he was holding that bloody towel full of ice, he looked up at me with sympathetic eyes, and I was in love. Within a matter of a month or 2, I was pregnant, and Married (May 2004).

Two days after our crazy court house wedding, he was over seas. I became a war bride, pregnant by a man I barely knew. He didnt come home for a year and a half. I got to be sole parent your whole 9 months in my womb. I got to be the sole parent for many months after as well.

Id be lying if I said it wasnt hell. I worried for you, I worried for your father who was overseas. I had very little contact with him. A pay phone in Afghanastan was ultimatly it. There would be times that I hadnt got a single call for days. The longest was 54. The news became my enemy. Always something terrible on the television about another soldier lost. Every soldier had Steve's face. I saw a little of him in every man who died over there. I was terrified that I would get the news that the man who bore my child would never get to see her face.

Then one day he was home.  Me and him had our good times, followed with the ugly. He was a good man, but sometimes war has a funny way of changing a man. Im not to say that I wasnt at fault either. We both had our struggles. I had gotten so used to being the only parent I had a hard time letting go of the reins. He had a hard time of controlling his beer. Once upon a time he was a gentle soul, but at some point our relationship got physical and he hurt us both.

This is why he isnt in our lives anymore.

You became my reason to live, and before you were even a year, you became my reason to fight. The next few years were a blur, but the memories of some of the experiences shaped me. Memories best for another day, and another blog.

In a few days baby girl, you will be 7. This scares me. Scares me because someday years from now (even though the time goes so quick) I will be on my own. You have been my rock. I love you.