Posts tagged ‘fresh horses’

More than Words.

Edenland's Fresh Horses Brigade This week Eden asks the words we’d say at a birthday party, with an open mic. What words are important to us. The scope of this had me a bit stuck. Clearly – well, I hope it’s clear! – words are important to me. And there’s so many good ones; song lyrics, poetry – how would I narrow it down? Then while washing myself in the shower this morning I saw the tattoo across my left ribs. It is a quote from Shakespeare’s Sonnet 116. 

SONNET 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

So yeah, those are the words I am going with for today. Love isn’t all you need but it does make the world go ’round. It is what remains, when all else is gone.

Sorry seems to be the hardest word.

Fresh Horses time, via Edenland, for this week. If someone feels generous a quick tutorial, in the comments, on how to add the Fresh Horses button would be much appreciated.

So, one thing I really love about Eden’s writing is that it is always, without fail, thought provoking. I’ve enjoyed rising to the Fresh Horses challenge the last couple of weeks. Yesterday though, would have been my Daughter Number One’s 23rd birthday. Would have been if she hadn’t been raped and murdered almost 9 years ago. And Eden’s meme this week was ‘I’m sorry’.

Fuck, where would I start?

I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I’m sorry you never flew in plane. I’m sorry you didn’t get to study at NIDA. I’m sorry, so so sorry, for the horrific assaults you suffered, that stole not only your childhood but the rest of your life. I’m sorry for the violent, fear filled way that you left this world. I’m sorry that I didn’t know. I’m sorry that you couldn’t tell me. I’m sorry I’ll never know your children or dance at your wedding. I’m sorry that your baby sister will only ever know you as a photo on the wall. I’m so sorry, so sorry, so sorry each and every minute of each and every day.

To my Son Number One; I’m sorry that the broken me couldn’t be the mother/carer that you need. I’m sorry that I couldn’t keep us all together. I’m sorry that finding a place where I could breathe means putting geographical distance between us.

For Son Number Two; I’m sorry that because you were the child with the least pressing needs that you’ve had the least of me. I’m sorry that it is only now, when you are almost 14, that your needs are being given priority. I’m sorry for not having heard you or noticed you sooner.

For Daughter Number Two, my baby girl; I’m sorry I couldn’t be your every day Mummy in a place that was suffocating me. I’m sorry that the only way I can keep being your Mummy at all is to live so far away from you. I’m sorry your Daddy wouldn’t let you come with me. I’m sorry that you’ve only ever known the broken me.

For all of my children; I am sorry that my best has been so far from good enough.

There’s lots more, but these are the things I am sorry for the most.

 

Message in a bottle.

Hey internet, are you there? It’s me, Katie. The house is quiet and sleeping and I’m about to climb the walls. One way and another it’s been a big week and I can feel my game face slipping. Sooner or later I’ll pull myself together but right this very minute you’ll forgive me if I run into your warm embrace to keep the panic attack at bay.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s been some definite high points to this week. High, like, Mt. Everest high. Truly. But just full on, you know? And internet, even the good bits sometimes make me feel like I can’t breathe. Because they are so good it’s almost unbearable and I think ‘how can I stand it?’

And tomorrow my Daughter Number One would have turned 23. Except she won’t. Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping into the future.

Soon, I’ll go and lie beside The Man That I Am In Love With and listen to him breathe. I’ll breathe him in while trying to match my breathing to his; steady and rhythmic. I’ll try to think good thoughts and go to my happy place. I’ll wonder what FRESH HORSES with Edenland will bring tomorrow and hope I can drown out the roaring panic in my head.

And life will go on.

Who are the people in your neighbourhood?

It’s that time of the week again – linking to Eden’s FRESH HORSES. One day I might actually work out how to do the button thing, but clearly not today.

Eden asks about other bloggers we connect with, on whatever level. In no particular order;

For me there are a few standouts. Edenland goes without saying, and through Eden’s blog I happened upon Lori at Random Ramblings of A Stay at Home Mother. So much of what Lori has to say resonates with me.

Tired Dad writes beautifully, loves his Excellent Children and his cynicism and sarcasm remind me of someone dear to my heart.

Fosterhood in NYC – Foster care is a subject close to my heart and this chick thinks outside the box. For every foster parent who has been told they are ‘too attached’, as if that could be a bad thing.

The always delightful and often insightful Courtney Beck , who really put herself out there in her quest for love.

Lastly but not leastly, Doctor Di – because she is my real life sister, and although we are very different people and have much distance of varying types between us she is the only one who has travelled our childhood and mother with me. And she writes good and I’m proud of her.

I can’t wait to read everyone elses recommendations!

Don’t fear the Reaper.

Tagging along with Eden’s meme this week; Funeral songs and associated matters.

I don’t fear death. It interests me, as does the rest of the human condition. How people behave around death; it brings out the best and the worst in them. For me, it is simply a fact of life. It is part of the deal.

I don’t know what is on the other side. I’m reserving my judgement on the existence of any deity. I’d like to believe in reincarnation. But death doesn’t scare me. One thing I am sure of is that the suffering of this life ends, and frankly, after this life death looks like a walk in the park.

“Tis not that Dying hurts us so – Emily Dickinson 

‘Tis not that Dying hurts us so —
‘Tis Living — hurts us more —
But Dying — is a different way —
A Kind behind the Door —

The Southern Custom — of the Bird —
That ere the Frosts are due —
Accepts a better Latitude —
We — are the Birds — that stay.

The Shrivers round Farmers’ doors —
For whose reluctant Crumb —
We stipulate — till pitying Snows
Persuade our Feathers Home.

Music is a big part of my life, so I hope there’s some at my funeral. Truth be told though, funerals are more for those left behind, so I’m not going to be too prescriptive on what I do or don’t want. This one would be cool though, and hopefully give my loved ones a bit of a chuckle.

 Choosing songs for my Daughter Number One’s funeral wasn’t hard. I mean, her death was hard, planning her funeral or celebration of her life as I prefer to call it, that was no picnic either, but the music – easy. She’d told me she’d dreamt about her funeral shortly before she died, and written a diary entry about the dream (dead set – excuse the pun). The song in  her dream was Dilemma by Nelly ft. Kelly Rowland. Second choice was ‘Iris’ by the Goo Goo Dolls. Last but by no means least, ‘Lose Yourself’ by Eminem.

“You better lose yourself in the music, the moment
You own it, you better never let it go
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime you better “

‘Lose Yourself’ played as everyone filed out of the chapel. I really wanted to leave Daughter Number One’s friends with the message to live their lives. Seize the day. Grab hold of it and jump in. Make it count. That was the way my Daughter lived.

So, I’m not too fussed on what songs play at my funeral. Maybe not country and western though.

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The Man I Am In Love With read aloud to me from a book twice last week. It is at times like that that I think it may be possible to die happy. Because death comes for all of us, but before that? You might as well live. (Points for anyone who gets the Dorothy Parker reference).

Travel safe, you guys.

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