Tuesday, December 23, 2014

Second Christmas Widowed

                                    Hi my Honey,

Our second Christmas apart is almost here
Has your spirit well spent this year?

Now, no longer as frantic over your demise
Precious moments can feel you near
What universe can be seen from your eyes?

Tropical isle, travel, dreams we shared
Meant so much more when we were paired

Did your soul unite with loved ones past?
Love, I’ve learned is not selfish, be happy

Always on a quest, I charged through life
You often wondered
What does it take to satisfy or make you happy?
Honey, the answer was just being your wife.

Tuesday, December 9, 2014

Mother Love Energy

Maternal energy abounds on the isle of Puerto Rico. It wraps around you like a warm hug. Mama, the core of the family earns her place with a loving vigilance. She touches and caresses, while suggesting what you should be doing.
Have something to eat. What can I get you to drink? Those are the tools of caring, that bring Puerto Rican hearts home. Daughters and sons sit at the table to tell mama all about it. She listens and asks questions. When she tells the hard truths, you know that she’s right.
In Mundelein, Illinois, I met a woman exuding the mother love energy. Her smile and make it right resolve captivated me. I had to have someone like that in my life. No matter what the universe threw at her, she handled it, believing that God would be there for her and her family.
Her dream of retiring on the island of her ancestors became reality. God blessed her with a beautiful home overlooking the ocean. When God blesses a friend in the circle, all in the circle are blessed, and so I visited my friend in Puerto Rico. Of all the places in the world I dreamed of visiting, this wasn’t one. This was my husband’s dream.

Her love and joy showing off her island infected us. Gracious rituals seduced us. The simple way a person passing your table in a restaurant says, “Buen probecho,” brings a dollop of love to the day.
Puerto Rico, the curve ball blessing of our lives came from the grace of my love for a wonderful wild woman of Puerto Rico.
Thank you for loving me and being in my life.

Monday, December 8, 2014

Love Hurts Pain Real

People do horrible things because not being loved hurts so much; not being able to express or change the pain of the void inside makes us do wicked things. Some days I hurt so much that a wicked behavior just hops right out of me.
I’m at a level of awareness so I recognize it and then, of course, get upset with myself. My tendency to beat myself up over the smallest infraction of behavior has diminished thanks to a thoughtful God, who has given me so much to want to beat myself up over that I’ve almost quite given up on it. What do they call it in psychological terms? Flooding?
Drowning in sorrow, but not actually dying has given me a new perspective, lucky me. Caroline Myss talks about seeing our archetypes. I read the book, have the playing cards and worked on understanding the mess with little success. There should be a dummy card with a girl in the corner with the dunce hat on for one of my archetypes.
When I was a married, fat and happy lady, I looked at the prostitute card and wondered if under a different set of circumstances it would apply to me. Little did I know the need for another new card, the occasional asshole, which applies way more than the prostitute.
The people who have loved me the best are passed. I have time to remember why I miss them, to absorb the love bonds we created together. Knowing that never again in this lifetime will I have the joy of time spent in their love hurts.
I would rather endure the beatings of my childhood all over again, to feel every physical pain I ever had than suffer the feeling of love lost; that’s how painful this has been.
Healing, holding on, letting go, growing are the bad with the good. This is the part where what doesn’t kill me will make me stronger for the task of my life. The conscious me is still in “Duh” mode on whatever that is. What surprises me is that I am actually learning to go with the flow. Who says you can’t train an old control freak?
My next story will be about true love and surprise, surprise; it’s not about me.