then is now

the 25th, dreaded it so bad -came and went -much the same as other days. thought to myself maybe it does get less hard.
stopped conning myself –
isn’t that it gets less hard,
it’s that it doesn’t get at all.

right here

             -right now-

                            then

worse

because I know more – understand less.

“gotta find a way to let this go. move on. or it’ll eat you up inside…”

and it is

i feel it slow consuming me

and omg makes me want to crawl out of my skin
run away from me and them

living

never waited for the next minute to come to him

wide open bursting through it.

fuck the sidelines

fuck the box

HERE I AM

love me or hate me
better yet, climb on- go with

because he always had
room and time and love and strength
for one and a dozen more

hell bent for leather and LIVING.

Comment posted by
at 1/1/0001 12:00:00 AM

thoughts are with you today

1948 lbs

last breath
between concrete and 1948 lbs of steel

4 days counting down.
images and words creepin ’round in my head. they left him there for over 3 hours ya know. tracker balancing on the passenger tires, him layin inside all broken, lifeblood streaming dripping pools on the pavement. vultures circlin’ round.

janey silent pleading for someone to put a blanket over him, know he’s so cold wearin a tank top.

and far away where nobody bled the grass was sticky red with blood. part of his arm landed there.

2 hours before anyone showed up to pronounce him dead. how did they know for sure he was dead- who made the judgement call not to rush him to the hospital with the people from the other car. did they just let him lay there and die. the photos – sometimes it’s just so bad you can see it’s death.

impound lot near empty. they always fill it from back to front. ‘cept for the tracker. dropped it front and center where the fence isn’t covered. kill trophy warning ya better not mess with ‘em less you want to end up like him.

Comment posted by
at 1/1/0001 12:00:00 AM

if you need anything or someone to talk to, you know you have a friend.

dinner time

Comment posted by
at 1/1/0001 12:00:00 AM

Their hair is almost the same shade!!! Lovely… Thank you for sharing so much of you.

I still

shop for him. I don’t put anything in my shopping basket or actually purchase things. But I still go through the men’s department looking for clothes he would like. And sometimes I sit quiet for hours waiting to hear him say my name. I used to think about pulling out in front of a semi-truck because I could justify it in my mind- if I don’t physically pull a trigger or physically swallow a bottle of pills it’s not really the S word is it- more like death by association. And alot of times I think everyone would have been better off if I’d been with him because me now is nobody more than “her husband died ya know and she just never got over it.” PLEASE don’t freak out if you read that and for god’s sake do not tell me “I can’t” or “don’t” or anything along those lines. I’m not thinking about doing anything – I’m just de-clutterizing my mind.

Comment posted by
at 1/1/0001 12:00:00 AM

Understood.

laughing

lowered the whirring and hissing and background noise

whats left to drown their voices…..laughing laughing and
more laughing

 

 

it wasnt funny though

he was my husband

Comment posted by
at 1/1/0001 12:00:00 AM

So, the whirring has slowed along with the hissing that often accompanies the whirring…and background noise…who needs it?! If you are the way I believe us to be…you must be wondering by now what will come after the laughing halts. It will. It wasn’t funny. It isn’t funny. This isn’t comedic relief here. You know that. He was your husband and he always will be. Just like before, that part has not changed. Catonya, a part of you has remained unchanged as well. Find it. Tell me about it.

My son’s 5th birthday party is Sunday. I am going to check out a campus and all it has to offer on Monday. My husband is leaving Tuesday. When he comes back I hope we will be able to get back what we have lost. I should be heart broken. I’m not. I’m not angry. I’m not even what some would insist is numb. So much has happened before this… I just don’t know. If I listen long enough, hard enough…my own little whirring.

good sleep

wow- you’d think it wouldn’t surprise me still. but leaving things here really works. I fell asleep fairly early (for me) last night and slept straight through to 7am this morning. Had a sweet dream about Rick and woke up feeling better and less cluttered than I have in weeks. My body’s still a little tired but will take a couple more days to get passed losing so much sleep.

and it’s Friday so I can start the weekend in a good mood. oh yeh.

Comment posted by
at 1/1/0001 12:00:00 AM

Catonya — I am so glad you slept well. There is something healing about an uninterrupted slumber. I know what it is to deal with demons that torment your mind throughout your day. Yet in waking hours I feel somewhat more equipped to deal with them. I can sweep them into the darkest corners of my mind and each time their shadows begin to edge out of that darkness, just a tippie-toe, I can consciously send them racing back to the Dark. In those hours, the demons fear me. I am the Victor. I believe that is why they still prey upon me in my sleep, so viciously. How dare they invade my rest, my time?! I think I have been utterly appalled at this lack of fairness in our dance the demons have displayed until just this very moment…perhaps if I could bring myself to let them stay in the light of my Mind’s Eye just a little longer each time they come to me when I am so aware of them, maybe, just maybe then they wouldn’t feel the need to strike back with such a vengeance when I am unable to defend myself, so unaware that they are quickly approaching. In sleep they come and too many times I have awoken not the Victor. I am considering taking some quality time with them the next time they rear their ugly heads…and it will be soonly. I wrote a song once that one line read: When faced with my demons I invite them in for a dance. My goodness, haven’t we been dancing long enough?

Thank you for your heartfelt reply. I don’t mean to turn your journal into much about me. I am but a Stranger to you…though I have been touched, moved by you and your little family more than you can imagine. I know you won’t misinterpret my meaning behind “little family”. I envision the three of you together, encircled by love and in this vision you three look so small in all of that love. What a wonderful thing to be wrapped in.

All this said….I feel that Rick’s life with you was lovely. His death was the ugliness. Surely that is what haunts your dreams.

Close your eyes. Do you see what I see? Can you hear Hannah laughing as her beloved Daddy tickles her? Your own laugh mixed in because your two greatest loves are right there. That cirlce of love has not and can never be unbroken. Your’s is a treasure that any pirate would gladly travel to the ends of the earth to attain…you, my friend, have only to close your weary eyes and it is yours.

bad dreams

tired and sleepy eyed, 2 hours maybe 3 I sleep then

you standing beside the bed
you walking towards me somewhere nowhere
standing by the gate
appearing beside me in the car

happy tears I’ve missed you so much, I reach to touch make sure you’re real-

you change

sorry omg so sorry how could i dream you that way
herky jerky broken and bloody.
you turn to face my scream-
empty dark sockets stare clean through me.
run and run and run and you’re slower stumbling behind but always gaining ground.

wtf?!!! tell me wtf kind of twisted shit is running ’round my brain that I dream something like this?

Comment posted by
at 1/1/0001 12:00:00 AM

Oh MY! That would be scary! It is freaky what our brains can come up with isn’t it? I’m sorry you didn’t sleep well, I hope you can get some rest tonight.

Thanks Wil

I recently asked if readers had time, please write a letter to the editor of Times Record News paper questioning the message sent to your children when men who talked about committing a crime are held without bond and child molesters are given $5000 bonds.
One voice can be heard. Wil’s letter was published and can be read here on the TRN website. (scroll down to “Bonding”)

thank you Wil.