music...

I  just bought myself an iHome to go next to my bed. I am so enjoying the local jazz station. Right now I am listening to "I Just Haven't Met You Yet" - Michael Buble. Great song - I do love his voice. The kind of youthful crooner someone my age really likes. it is such a treat to sit in the dark and compose my blog listening to great music. Truly! I'd say I feel close to heaven just laying here in peace.
Lots of angst going on around the house. Kami goes on her first big backpacking trip in middle school and Gary is beating the whole experience to death packing and repacking her backpack. Making her pack it over and over and roll up the matt and stuff the sleeping bag. Yes - these are definitely things she is going to have to do however, to have an 11 year old do them over and over again. She is overtired and crying. I interfere and they both react. So it's best that I lay in bed and just get away from it all. That's hard to do in such a small house for sure. But I am loving the solitude. It won't last for long, trust me.
"Sweet Love" - Anita Baker is playing now. Love the saxophone. She is one of my favorite ballad singers - and Sade is another. I adore her. So many songs I can't even think of all those I would consider in my shortlist of most loved.
My tummy is acting up today. Ulcerative colitis is an insidious disease. You just never know what is going to trigger it. Most definitely it was brought on initially by stress. But when I take care of myself, it is hard to figure out why I have painful reoccurances. I took some stomach settling meds and it is helping. I need to call the doctor.
So when I close my eyes to listen to the beautiful music, I am transported to an apartment in the city that has a gorgeous view - full windows. I am laying in bed - no shades on the windows and I can see the skyline for miles. It is breathtaking. And the music continues to play - taking me to far away places only my imagination can dream of.
And the door opens and it is the end of my respite tonight. So I will express my gratitude for the peace I have been given as the lights get switched on and the solitude of my time ends. And so it goes...

a little cabin in the woods

I sat just slightly in the shade today, under a gorgeous pine tree at Alturas Lake. Truly, weather wise, it was a perfect day. Not too hot - 68 degrees. A slight breeze. The sun was beating down and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. A perfect mountain day.
Kami and Gail had blown up an inflatable kayak and with lifejackets secured, had taken to paddling around the lake. Maybe there were 4 people on the beach further down. The silence was broken only by the occasional airplane flying so high that you couldn't see it.
I shut my eyes and started to circular breathe. In and then out. In and then out. In and then out. And slowly, I was lulled into a calm place. Solitude. Peace. I began to notice the distinctive mountain smell of pine needles. Some residual smoke from a campfire far away. And I dreamt that someday I would indeed have my little log cabin in the woods, where I could retire comfortably surrounded by my favorite aromas of the mountains and the wildlife strolling through.
It has always been a dream of mine to have a little log cabin in the woods on the side of a mountain. Nothing fancy. Just very simple surrounded by the treasures of my life. Things that bring me comfort. Peacefulness always. A little porch with a rocker. Some bird feeders and wild flowers all around me. No gardens - just God's perfect garden.
All my dreams were set aside when the economy collapsed almost two years ago to the day. Our house inverted and is worth enough to have eaten all the money that was our equity. Our retirement disappeared - *poof* - vanished into thin air. And we went from lots of work and disposable income to bare bone basics. No excess of anything.
So will my dream of the cabin in the woods come true? I don't know. I hope so. It really is my last wish aside from a convertible. Material wishes that is. I guess I can always close my eyes and dream a dream. My dad always told me that when you wish upon a star your dreams do come true. So maybe someday the stars will make it so. Wouldn't it be lovely?

ouch

Why is the people we love the most have the least patience, tolerance, understanding and compassion with us? Someone wise once told me that the safest place to show your angst, anger and rage is with the person you love because they will never leave you. Do you really believe this is true?  Certainly for children it is because they test all the boundaries of loving walls we create. But when we fall in love with a partner it is our expectation of mutual love, adoration, respect and understanding that keep us from this behavior. We simply don't understand this when it happens and likewise don't accept this type of behavior from them. It is just not the sign of a loving relationship to inflict pain on the person you say you love so dearly. I really believe this. And of course, it does not model good behavior for the children to watch at all. Now we are all guilty of it. I don't know a single couple that doesn't get royally pissed off at their partner and act out. I know I have. I get so infuriated I have to walk out. Often drive for a long while and breathe deeply to release my rage. I rarely act out physically - I have thrown things when I am alone but only once or twice. Never hit a partner. I have used foul language which I think is despicable. 
Not having ever felt safe to express anger, I find it much easier to cry and isolate. But I know I can get mad. And then my patience goes out the window pretty darn fast. Really fast. 
It always make me sad when I witness or hear about couples hurting each other. Maybe that is because I live in my own world of silent pain that I keep pretty close to the vest. I was in a relationship once with a man I truly loved who always questioned me and my thoughts. I really felt I could never say or do much right that did not hurt his feelings. It was certainly trying for me at times and manifested itself in physical responses such as choking with tears, lack of sleep and vomiting (which if you knew me you'd know I dislike a lot).
Why do we want to hurt each other? Why don't we want to put our partners before ourselves? If we all did this don't you think it would be like heaven for everyone? We get bored in relationships I guess. Tired of the lull of the relationship and then too stubborn to be the one to make the effort to change. It's funny because when we do, not only do things shift for the other person but our lives are further enhanced and more beautiful because of it. I am completely guilty of all of the above in spades. It's funny how I can see it clearly but practicing it is much harder.
We all invest so much in loving partnerships and marriages. Why are they worth the work? We say the vows and then do our level headed best to forget them when we get angry. We think about our selfish needs and do our best to punish our lover. And then, like anything else, we inflict pain that will never be forgotten. 
As I have said once and will say again, life is about love. Truly. When you don't have love, you're lost. When you have love - there is nothing better than coming home. And home is a place I yearn to belong.

grieving

Certainly we have all experienced the loss of a loved one. It is surely what comes to mind when we think of the word grief. Grieving is allowed, in fact absolutely encouraged, when we lose someone we love so dearly. 
What many of us don't realize is that grief can take many more forms. It also comes in waves when we least expect it. I truly believe that I have been grieving since I suffered the loss of my career through illness in 1996. My entire persona was defined by my ultra-successful career in commercial design. Although not one to brag, I was certainly one of the top designers in my part of the country, having completed jobs one at my age might only dream of. And my salary reflected my success. I was able to travel, buy a home, purchase vehicles, possessions, a truck and beautiful new camper - renovate my home and build a beautiful new office...  I was certainly on top of the world.
At that time, I felt strong, capable and free. It was a special time in my life. It felt as though everything I had worked for was moving in high gear and had shifted into cruise control. I felt stable, strong and safe.
And then I lost myself. I gave myself away out of love. I thought my dreams had come true. It was then I realized I couldn't trust the words I'd longed to hear all my life. And it was then, my life changed. I made changes for all the wrong reasons. And I would make decisions, based on my health and my need for care from lead poisoning, compounded with generalized anxiety and panic disorder from not knowing what was really wrong at that time. Having to ask for help to recover over time was a huge thing for me to do. I had never felt vulnerable and the care I needed was all consuming. So in having to relocate to recover, I had to give up all the stability. The very definition of who I thought I was. And I had to become a new person. The lovely woman I am today.
So yes, I do grieve at times for that old me. The one who thought she had the world by the tail. The one who was ultra successful. The girl who felt empowered to conquer the world. The self confidence to tackle any projects, take on new risks, leap into the unknown and live by chance.
A part of me disappeared in that experience. I do truly believe I am a better person having survived it all. My life is so much richer and fuller now and I am able to help others empower themselves when they face difficult situations alone. Out of it all, I have to keep telling myself that I am strong. Despite the loss of self-confidence and my need to rely on others at that time, I have completely returned to the incredibly capable and confident person I once was. But the residual damage remains. Sometimes the false sense of incapability returns in my rear view mirror. It haunts me. My newly adopted panic disorder (and I say new because it is less than 15 years old) is like a cloud of thunder waiting to clap at any moment. I don't know what triggers it. But I know having survived this journey of my life to this date, I have been molded by God to show others that the possibilities when you encounter grief and are forced change are endless. And who knows... you might find that elusive pot at the end of the rainbow. I did in so many ways I never ever imagined.

do it for love...

You gotta know that I am an 80's girl - by definition - the big hair was one of my best looks truly! (I'll share a photo sometime... "Rock" bitch hairdo big time!)  And along with that comes my love for Hall & Oates. Daryl Hall musically - a marvelous voice with perfect pitch and you know... (now I am showing my age) in his mid 60's!  teehee Makes me feel quite young and frisky! Nothing like a great voice and strumming a guitar to get a girl going. Love these guys!
So here it is. 
I'll do it for love. And one of my favorite late H & O songs. For sure. I believe in the power of love. Love can move mountains. If I am in love - let me tell you - I would do any and everything. I long for that feeling. It moves my spirit. Makes my heart leap. That extreme passion. That great jump for joy feeling. And I will experience this again in my life. Believe you me.
Listen to the words. I think you'd do it for love too. What risk would you take to do it for love? And what woman wouldn't want the love of her life to sing this song to her?

absence of touch

I wonder what it would be like to live without touch. So vital is touch that we ache in it's absence. We yearn to be touched, most especially when we have missed the warmth of human companionship. I love the softness of someone who caresses my face. I love to stroke the cheeks of my daughter while I gently lull her to sleep. I enjoy the pressure of a strong embrace and I could hold myself in someone's arms as long as they'd let me. Because it connects me to that person in a way unique and special in our relationship.
One of the reasons we marry is for exclusivity of touch. It allows us to have an open invitation to touch the body of our beloved - gently and lovingly. Those special places only we alone can venture. To remind our partner of what we love about them - the beauty of their body next to ours and how their very breath brings them into one with our being. Their smell that captures our senses. And then we touch some more.
The slowness of one's touch. The gentleness. One could touch their beloved for hours and never experience them completely. Much like the feeling of first love when your eyes simply can't stop looking into the mirror reflection of your passion. It slowly builds and eclipses into something that takes your breath away. 
We hold the hands of those we feel close - to connect in the simplest of ways to their spirit - to let them know that we are just as human as they. It evens us out. Makes us alike. We become one in each other.
I think about people who miss the beauty of human touch. I think we all have missed being touched at times. And it can be painful.  For whatever reason, living without touch for me is much like a disconnect from humanity. We can touch ourselves but there is some form of emptiness in this kind of touch. Momentarily satisfying however incredibly lonely. You're left wishing and hoping for someone to complete that missing piece.
In saying this, I think I will make an effort to reach out and touch the people who touch me with their very being. I will honor their humanity with the warmth of a simple gesture. I will give hugs freely and offer my hand in kindness and love. And we'll see if the gift is returned somehow in emotion and connection. It's all about love you know.

love, life and my little peanut...

In my twenties, I was never particularly interested in children. They made a lot of noise, took a lot of time, prohibited you from having a successful career, acted out in public, never seemed overly grateful - and then there was the piece of my that never wanted to have a little person of "myself". This all came from never feeling fully loved and appreciated for my essence. I understand the logic of it all being quite normal for someone my age with my ambitious nature. 
Then there was this deeper part of me. The one that only liked to babysit a little girl named Cary Newman. She was my band teacher's daughter. A little black girl adopted into a white family. She was cute and funny and liked to play board games. I loved the color of her skin. It reminded me of my 5th grade teacher. He was the one public school teacher whom I felt modeled the example of a solid education and I adored that he made time to answer my 1000's of questions - every minute of every day. He never got impatient with me. Rather - he saw me as inquisitive and challenging! His name was Philemon Mtatabikwa.  My father insisted that he come over for dinner often and Mr. Mtatabikwa would allow my sister and I to ask all sorts of questions about being "black".  He gave me special gifts - a necklace and some beads from Salisbury, Rhodesia. I believe that city has changed names. Mind you everything in Africa has changed radically. I remember my immediate fascination with Africa itself - wanting to go to see the beauty of the animals and the people in such beautiful shades of brown. The colorful fabrics. The languages. The bright white smiles. I vowed that I would go there someday.
Sometime in the mid to late 80's I was hired by a man named Peter Traverso. Peter was from South Africa. He tolerated my ignorance of South Africa, race relations and continued defense of people of color. I had no understanding of all the changes, apartheid, racism, reverse racism - there was so much for me to learn. And Peter had the patience of Job. And I think he liked me a lot - we shared a similar sense of humor and enjoyed working together. Peter was an interesting man.
Peter became my mentor. I respected him completely. I genuinely cared deeply about the work he asked me to do and made sure he got my very best effort. I advanced quickly and Peter gave me more and more challenges. So I credit him (along with my hard work ethic) for the rapid advancement and overall success of my career in interior design. Where would I be now without him?
All these ties to Africa. People of color. Some sort of identification with them.
And then came the time I realized I was running out of time to become a mother. Something in me changed. Could I be a different person now that I had achieved my career goals and felt more emotionally complete? My life was settled and happy. What was it I really wanted? Well strangely enough, a little brown baby girl. And my husband and I were completely receptive to whatever little bundle of love and joy came our way. I had definitely married the right man to make this dream come true.
We did all the paperwork, paid endless fees, had never ending home visits, were probed and questioned about every little iota of our lives... and then the final question, "What race of child do you want?" We both said we didn't care. Whatever mother chose us was the one directed by God and our baby's soul from Heaven above. And sure enough, it happened. And God bless her, Kami's tummy mommy called and we were blessed with most amazing child in the world.
A beautiful brown baby girl. It was a dream come true. And I was so ready to be a mama. So what about everything I thought when I was a twenty-something? Well - it all totally disappeared and I became what I was truly born to be. Mary Kamisha Norbom's mama.
Our little Peanut. She was so small - 5 pounds 14 oz. So so tiny and so exceptionally beautiful. And now every second of every day goes by faster and faster. Or at least it seems so. I can't slow it down. She is growing up way too fast. What I wouldn't give to have my little toddler back for just one day.
Kami has been away at summer camp now for almost 8 weeks. She is eleven - becoming her own special person. I love the person she is becoming. So grounded, clear thinking, smart, peace loving, a true cuddler and in love with life. She is a good friend and an exceptional student with a love of learning. She is empathetic and cares about her friends and their feelings deeply. But most of all, she loves and respects her mama and dada and she loves her forever family. We love her more than words can express. How did I get so lucky? I ask myself that quite often. But I think most parents feel this way. As mothers, our job is to be our child's number one advocate. So there is no other love like a mother's love. I may not have received the kind of love I needed as a child, but I have this second chance at "mothering" with my daughter. And you better believe she knows how loved she it.
My dream has come true. My daughter is my dream come true. And I can't wait to see what she becomes. Every step of this journey has been truly amazing. And I wouldn't change one moment of it.
Next week when she comes home, there will be no happier mama in the universe than I. Because I will get to hold her, cuddle her and tell her just how much she truly means to me. 
Becoming a mama? The best thing I have ever done in my life. Being Kami's mama? It's like holding a little piece of heaven in your heart and in your hands. I love you Peenie-puff. So so much.

Newsflash... God loves Raye as much as He loves you!

I am working on Raye's case - tirelessly. Lots of telephone calls. It's interesting how many barriers you come up against but then, as if it were a miracle, a new door opens and a beautiful dream come true happens. Today feels like that kind of day. I want to express my gratitude and joy to those incredible souls who are opening those doors and making hope shine through. It is as though there is a knowing that things will be alright. And it makes my heart sing. God is truly with us all.
Gratitude to the soul(s) who see the truth and will let the whole world know it. Shout it from the rooftops! Praise the Lord! Gratitude to my faith for seeing the truth and the excessiveness of punishment handed to Raye. She is not a murderer. She is guilty of not seeing the evil in the man who murdered her daughter. If you were abused by your former husband, statistics show you will most likely become involved with another one. And who she married before her second husband definitely abusive. He was exactly whom he showed her he was. So it was easy to envision a horrible marriage and future with him. She had the foresight and strength leave. No woman deserves to be physically abused. There is no reason justifiable. A man who beats a woman shows true cowardice. 
So move on forward to the wolf in sheep's clothing. Attractive, tall, handsome, protective, secure. On the outside - not an abuser - or so it seemed. Well, hindsight is 20/20 and abusers are often very manipulative. Bet on it Raye shared the abuse she endured in her first marriage. The perfect set up to be groomed by this creature. And he saw open access to a child to help him fulfill his strong desires of pedophilia. Did Raye see this? No. She only saw someone who would rescue her from being a single parent. It looked awfully good. After all - he was a father himself. 
So easy now to look back and see where this was leading. But certainly not at the time.
And we have all been fooled by people who feign sincerity and then show their true colors. ALL OF US!
A friend of mine once said - "When someone shows you who they are, believe them."
So where am I going with this? I notice a lot of people read Ms. Ortiz's blog. And many feel free to comment and offer false sincerity, support and praise. Pathetically sweet as it is - it is far from sincere. It is a bait for everyone to believe what you see is the face of something quite loving or lovely.
Well - in time and over time - these people continue to abuse her. Commenting on her by name calling in their blogs. Posting nastiness on something called "Topix". It really is a case study for a psychiatric dissertation. Not unlike being sociopathic. Certainly dissociative. Often explained in a way using some transference in the equation. Ridiculous. Plain old language? Just plain evil and more than half crazy. Thankfully - neither she or I read their fluff but certainly get cut and pastes from plenty of people. 
So my commentary is for these so called grief stricken individuals who say they advocate for Kelsey. 
Find something positive to do with your time. Quit whining about what has happened to you. You are an adult now. You can decide to live a better life and let go of your past. Quit identifying yourself as a victim. Stand up and create change. Stop with the self pity. Stop using abused children to identify who you are. You're far from it. And you are not using your time for God's calling. 
That is exactly what Jody is doing. God's calling. And that is what I am doing.
Sitting in the center of a tornado and letting it spin to bring attention to yourself only gives you negative attention. And perhaps you don't see that. But it seems like a foolish way to draw attention to yourself because people are not interested in you because of someone else's abused child. Instead of hitching your rope to Kelsey's wagon, create your own advocacy group based on your personal experience. At this moment in time, you are simply salving your own wounds with the sorrow of other people's tragedies. This will not help you move forward.
Buy yourself a new dress. Change your hairstyle. Advocate for children not yet in the cycle of abuse. You know nothing about the experiences of the families you speak of but your testimony is powerful when you speak of your own experience. Use that as a catalyst for change. You can only relate to what you yourself experience. And that story alone has power to create change.
What about my own issues in childhood? Well - by the grace of God and good talk therapy, I feel wonderful. I love my family. I am incredibly blessed. I don't want to live in the past - I want to savor each present moment. I am glad to love God, be surrounded by those who love Him and themselves, and grateful for friends who have so much more to do in this world that hurt other people with their words.. 
God loves Raye just as much as He loves you. Well it's true! No matter what you say about Raye, God loves her as much as He loves you. When you speak, you use the voice He gave you to either make things better or make things worse. I think it best to make things better. So I have edited this here and there trying to find the better part of me. And I think I have.
So quit fighting a losing battle and start making something out of your life. He has a higher calling for you. All I will continue to pray that you find your higher road. It's there - you just have to be open to it.

integrity & character

My deep seated values follow along a pretty curvy line, I am embarrassed to say. I have made many mistakes in my life and goodness knows I have spent a lot of my time down on my knees asking for forgiveness. It is such a struggle for me to simply be me. I have never been able to live up to my standards. 
However, something that seems to come quite naturally to me is remembering that we should all do our best to seek truth. To fight for injustice. To do unto others as we would wish upon ourselves. It seems really simple. And very Christ-like in nature.
My advocacy for Raye Smith began quietly - questioning the series of events that led to the murder of her daughter and later her conviction. Believe me, I have read more than I have ever wanted to on this case for one lifetime. The only thing worse than reading it would be living it, as the Smith (not by choice) and Briggs (by choice) families do to this day. 
Because my decision is to fight the conviction that has led to the imprisonment of Ms. Smith, I have been met with a lot of angst. Fear. Cyber bullying. People who would rather turn away than face what lies in front of them. In my view, if I chose not to speak, then a woman innocent  of her conviction spends the better part of the useful years of her life in prison. And that makes me culpable in some sort of strange way related to humanity. Raye sits locked up every day no doubt feeling shame, fear, sorrow and great pain. Alone. Isolated. Is this right when someone else murdered and abused her child? Is this right when she did her best to seek out the cause of the abuse? I think not.
So I have chosen to rise up to the challenge. And certainly I face doors being shut over and over again that make me question my faith in humanity and my own religious teachings.
It has been an arduous journey for Raye and in it I have learned a great deal about humanity and it's need to seek a happy ending to a story no matter what the cost to any individual. We all seek justice for the innocent but at what price?
Something I find baffling is faith leaders who turn a blind eye to the very teachings of Christ they preach. Are we not to demand justice and truth as Christians? Are we not to forgive no matter how difficult it may be? Is the power of forgiveness what leads us eventually to the full redemption we seek as followers of Christ? It all has me quite baffled. If Raye can forgive the very woman who fought so hard to see her hang then why can't that woman find forgiveness for her? Who then is the person most favored in the eyes of God?
You can see it brings up some very powerful questions about faith. And our duty to our fellow man.
Walking along this road, I have picked up many honorable friends whom I believe understand the full meaning of forgiveness, patience, respect and understanding. The most notably is my friend Jody Ortiz. Jody became involved in Ms. Smith's case somewhat through the "back door" and has been thoroughly documenting everything to do with it ever since. This is no easy task because it is a case of high coverage in Oklahoma. She is watched, followed and faces character assassination everyday. Through her solid and thorough research, Jody has not aligned with popular opinion. She has researched the facts of this case endlessly and through that, has come to the same conclusion many of us have. That Raye Dawn Smith is the target of vengeance by an overzealous exmarital family (and their violent advocacy group), that she and her daughter are the current blonde gorgeous fodder for television ratings and that the financial gain is tempting beyond obvious because of the convenient circumstances of this case. I am not going to go through the facts of the Smith case but if you are interested in reading more about it, do check out the following link (RDS Website).
Ms. Ortiz has endured more that any citizen should ever have to simply for putting the truth out there for everyone to access. Should it be this way in America? I think not. She is absolutely entitled to her opinion. Not only her opinion but to state the fact. She is the victim of unending cyber bullying. Bullied for telling the truth! Not to mention that her thorough work on this case is often taken for granted by the "other side" because they have created so many falsehoods - most who advocate for the "other side" really have no idea what the truth is anymore. It is like a good political spin. The characters are so wrapped up in the drama that to have it end would be like cutting off their oxygen supply. Instant death. No more attention anymore.
I wish to salute Jody Ortiz and thank her for holding my hand through this arduous education of our American Criminal Justice system. It is fascinating and frightening all at the same time. And for the sake of Ms. Smith, I hope that as a board member of the National Coalition for Criminal Justice Reform and with the help of other bright minds fighting for the same truths that convicted their family members, we will find the answer. Please check out Jody Ortiz' blog (Jody Ortiz Blog) - she has written extensively about this case and her blog is interesting and quite informative. I read it daily.
Please pray for Ms. Smith as she awaits a hearing to determine whether she will receive an appeal she justly deserves. I know I will be with all my heart. And thank you for listening and having compassion for this person whom you do not know because you all know MY heart. Trust me - she is well worth knowing and more than worth your effort.
And one last thing - remember me mentioning the door closing on me by clergy not wishing to extend the hand of Christ in support - here is the Smith family blog. it is entitled, "Raye Dawn Smith Forgives". Appropriate don't you think? (Smith Family Blog)
I'll end with a snippet I heard on the Biography Channel Series, "I Survived."
"Forgiveness is like letting a prisoner free. And finding out that prisoner is you." A statement from Craig - a survivor of the Columbine School Shooting in 1999 that took the life of his sister Rachel. He had become angry and bitter and chose to heal through God's grace and forgive the shooters.

daddy

house of sorrow. hmmm. Interesting song that when I listen to it I travel back to being a child. Watching you so unhappy. Telling me all the things you should have told your wife. Wondering why I wasn't enough to make you happy. I mean I loved to play baseball with you. I loved to sit on your lap and watch the Ed Sullivan Show - Topo Gigio. Or Red Skelton. And as I got older - you'd watch Monty Python's Flying Circus and as me why I thought it was so funny. And we'd laugh. You were my daddy and I loved you so much. I still love you endlessly and I always will.
The time your puppy Trixie died and you sat alone in the backyard and cried for days. I was so sad for you. It was strange - you just sat in the middle of the yard in a lawn chair. You didn't speak. Nothing.
The times you would sit me on your lap and teach my how to drive - as young as 3. I thought it was pretty special. I had to learn all the directions to get home. Turns out it was to help you because you would drink too much when you'd visit Grama and I would have to tell you how to get home.
The time I drove you home from Gordie and Pam's wedding and you were so intoxicated that you made me stop the car. You threw me out of the front seat into the back. And you drove until you passed out in the middle of a red light. I remember screaming so loud. You didn't hear me. I was 17 and I hid under the front seats of the car. I fit. I was only 85 pounds - just little. And you called me names I have never forgotten. Why can't I forget them. Fuck. I hate them and they hurt.
And then the next day, when you were all better, I was your prodigy. And I was the perfect child. I obeyed all rules. I excelled at everything I did. Top marks in school. Prodigy pianist. Scholarships. I did it all. The golden girl. The adopted child who never wanted to be sent back because I never believed I was lovable. All I wanted to hear was that you were proud of me.
When you got sick, somehow I began to shift the thought of you being my father to you being a human being. Full of faults like me. Frailties. With feelings. Someone who can makes mistakes. And it turned the table on our relationship. I was always there for you. Faithfully. Every moment until you passed. And you held my hand, and felt my love. You squeezed it and I knew it was goodbye. If I could have had your last 3 years of fatherhood for your entire life with me, I think I wouldn't have had so much damage to repair. 
I am afraid of everything Daddy. It's as though you brought me up to be strong and I am failing miserably at it. No doubt you would have been ashamed when I fell apart in 96. Or maybe the "new" you would have felt great compassion. I don't know. You brought me up as your son, not your daughter. It was difficult to be weak in front of you. Was I really ever myself? Why didn't you save me from my mother? Why didn't you save yourself? 
You did everything you could to give me everything you could. You worked hard. You made sure I had a great education. I never felt I went without anything and we certainly were far from rich in every sense.
Thank you for the love you were able to give me Daddy. I always knew you loved me. I knew you held so much sorrow and pain. I knew you wanted better for yourself - you just didn't know how to find it. You were loyal to the end. And I do value that in you. Your handshake and word meant something and you never let a friend down. Never.
I think sickness was your only way out. It makes me sad to have lost you at such a young age. You were only 7 years older than my husband is now, when you died.
It would be your 84th birthday. Writing to you just helps me get my feelings out Daddy. I love you and I miss you terribly. Thank you for bringing me the poinsettia - I know it was an awful day for you. I loved your thoughtfulness. Thank you for taking care of the mouse in my house. And thank you for my first new car - for giving me my first loan knowing I would pay it back. Thank you for coming to all my events. You were always there for me. Thank you for standing up in Grade 5 when I got top marks in school and for saying, "That's my girl!". I have never forgotten that. And thanks for not drinking whenever I asked you not too. You heard me when I found the courage to speak my truth.
I know I will see you again. I do in my dreams. Be the first one there for me OK? I love you Daddy - I just wish we could have a piece of cake together. Just know I wish you the happiest birthday and I will never forget you. I don't break promises either....

sundown...

Sundown just happens to be one of my all time favorite Starbuck CD's ever. It is melodic and calm - easy listening. Jazzy. Bluesy. (I know - no such word.) It is absolutely my favorite time of day. Sexy. Totally. So turn the music on and picture this... 

The sun is almost down. You're riding in a beautiful sports car - convertible - two seater. Somewhere north of Stanley. With someone who, you know, you just can't keep your hands off of. You can smell the aroma of the outside mountain air. A hint of smoke. Green freshly cut hay on one side - the river flowing on the other. The wakes of the water glisten as the sun finishes it's dance over the rocks. And you speed in and out of the curves around the sides of the mountains, totally in control of your car. In and out the sun peaks around the corners. Becoming increasingly invisible as you round each corner. The wind is only that created by the speed of the car and your hair blows freely as you reach up to keep pulling it back. And you feel free. Totally free. And it is pure Bliss.

Don't Look Back. 

music

Alas - the beauty of music. I could never lose my ability to hear. It would be akin to shutting down the very sense that allows me to feel. To laugh, to dance, to twirl, to shed my tears, to sob in my hands, to remember special moments - moments that absolutely changed my life. And those memories, along with the song, are embedded as deep as anything I could ever feel. No - to lose my hearing - I would have to take my life. Because it really is the core of my existence and becomes more so as I get older and older.
There are the firsts and the lasts - the first time I kissed, the first time I drove my own car, the first time I nailed a difficult routine with my dance partner and won the competition, the first time I played with the Edmonton Symphony Orchestra, the first time I made love, the first time I really made love,  the first day of both my marriages, the first and finest passion I felt while sailing on a ferry between the islands in Seattle with a special someone, the first time I held my daughter, the first time I felt someone loved me truly - just thinking about these special times brings a rush of beautiful memories back and somehow validates that I have lived and loved. Felt great joy and great sorrow. That I am sensitive and compassionate. That I left a impression on all of the lives I have touched.
And then there are the songs that remind me of certain people. Just hearing them brings up emotion and memories of times since past and the fond hope of reunification. The songs of comfort when I have lost someone - or the songs that remind me of those beautiful souls I have lost to heaven for an eternity.
There are songs that remind me of my father and my mother. Of being a child. 
And for many of these songs, I can close my eyes and the tears flow freely. Allowing a peacefulness to enter that allows for calm and true relaxation.
Maybe my fondness for music and my true belief that music is therapeutic -  in a way where it can evoke things much deeper than what appears on the surface - has something to it. Don't you think you can play any song and chances are you could travel back to a time in your life where a memory of some kind comes rushing back?  With many songs I will most likely know the lyrics and can tell you where I was when I first heard it or what I was doing while it played that left a huge impression on my psyche.
So I cannot live without it. It would be much like losing my best friend. I often think how hard it will be to die not being able to hear what new music will be created by my favorite artists once I am gone. That probably sounds a bit strange, but may give you an understanding as to how powerful it has been in saving my life. It was my way to cope. It was my disassociating from the pain and reality of the difficulties of my younger years. And now it is my down comforter.
And finally - the louder some of it is - the better I feel it. I like it loud and crystal clear. Because it then resonates throughout my body - making my heart flutter. Altering my breathing. Changing my movements, albeit subtly. Shivers. And slowly I move. Inside. And sometimes out.
So know you all have a song. All of you whom I know and I love. And if I haven't nailed it yet, it is coming for you. Because if I love you - I never want to forget you.