17

They say time heals all wounds....

........they are full of shit.

Time doesn't heal anything. It softens the hard edges, clouds memories, but true healing rarely comes with time alone.

Losing a loved one is common. Each of us walk that path in a different way. When you face an unexpected loss at the hand of someone else, especially a young person, it is so much more than just grief. Blinding rage. Hatred. Despair. Bottomless holes of darkness, year after year.

But sometimes, you are given a gentle reminder. Carried on the wind, a whisper in the darkest hour of night. While the world is quiet, the storms rage on inside my head. Loud and unrelenting.

Shine a light friends, wherever you go. Because some of us are drowning behind our smile.

Entropy

I recently had an enlightening conversation that started the wheels turning. It has been a long time coming, but I think I have finally been able to formulate a coherent thought process to explain the trigger this particular scenario seemed to finally pull. You know, by now, (if you know me at all) that I rarely hold back. I'm honest. I am not intentionally cruel, but I won't blow smoke up your rear and call it butterflies either darlin'.

Without revealing too many details, here's a glimpse into the scene: copious amounts of alcohol, piled on top of a series of unfortunate events, added on to quite a few years of frustration from various occurrences, all seemed to spiral into a single moment of clarity; culminating in a horizontal position in the middle of a lonely apartment. Zero motivation to move, or even care.

Definition of ENTROPY

1:  a measure of the unavailable energy in a closed thermodynamic system that is also usually considered to be a measure of the system's disorder, that is a property of the system's state, and that varies directly with any reversible change in heat in the system and inversely with the temperature of the system; broadly :  the degree of disorder or uncertainty in a system

2 a :  the degradation of the matter and energy in the universe to an ultimate state of inert uniformity

 In layman's terms... "I have no f*cks to give"

This in itself was not a surprising revelation, knowing this individual as I do. However, in order to fully examine that feeling you have to put yourself into a position where even the will to actually EXIST no longer is there. It's a sad outlook to have. We only get one ride on this merry-go-round, and when it's gone, it's gone.

When you reach a point where everything is a meaningless repetitive drone of disappointment and everyone a target for ill-disguised hostility, you can almost empathize with the situation.

Here's the deal: life happens.

You are no more entitled to an easier life than the guy next to you. If you do good things, you are not going to be guaranteed a lovely return. If you screw people over, lie, cheat, steal, kill, you are not always visited by the karma train. That's just the way it goes. No one is exempt from death and gravity. Other than those 2 (unless you happen to be orbiting outside earth's gravitational pull), it's all a crap-shoot.

We all get shit we are dealt. Often it turns out great in the end. Find someone to spend your time with, build a life together, chase some dreams, reach a few goals.  Other times it just plain sucks. But the one thing to remember, even when life has you at the end of your rope (or, stagnant on the floor) at the end of the day, you have a choice.

If you get kicked down 9 times and refuse to get up a tenth. I understand. I feel bad for you. But don't ask everyone else to pat you on the head and commiserate. If you are not where you want to be, do something. 

Nothing can get better by refusing to change. Situations cannot be bettered without significant attempt to improve your own contribution. If you are unhappy with the results, then stop doing the same predictable actions that led you to them. Granted, very few of us are in the position to be able to just find a new job, build a dream home, go on that fantasy vacation.

But at the very least, GET UP OFF THE FLOOR! 

Take a step.

Hell, slide a finger across the carpet.

Don't just lay there and reflect on the awful state of your existence.

Get. Up.

I hate being a "victim"

The lowlife who murdered my brother is up for parole. How lovely for him. Beneath the simmering rage, I had to dive deep in order to form coherent thoughts and write a letter. As a "victim" we get to share with the parole board our thoughts. It sucks. Waking up today sucked. And writing this letter was therapeutic, in a way. But it also makes the hurt and anger resurface, as usual. Victim. That word makes my blood boil. No one chooses to be a victim, but we are thrust into the role. How we respond is what defines us I believe. I hate being a victim, I embrace the challenge. So here's a big "F--YOU".

***

Here it is 13 years later. I am writing in hopes of conveying a small glimpse into our lives and how deeply we have all been affected by the senseless actions of one man. My brother, Garry Brooks, Jr., was an amazing guy. He was compassionate, quick to laugh, had a great sense of humor, and above all else, was loved. He is still missed today. His murder tore a hole in my very existence. Anyone who has never suffered a sudden and severe loss like that cannot easily understand.

As I sit here today and reflect on this horrific tragedy, I can only ache. Garry was killed when he was 27 years old. 27. Let that sink in for a moment. It’s the age of new awakenings, where you’re finally starting to feel like an adult. When you might start looking forward to the future and dreaming big. Really big. Because you get to the point where you finally have your stuff together and you’re ready to JUMP into it, both feet first. I’m 35 now. As the little sister, I was never supposed to experience these things first. My big brother, my HERO, was the one who always led the way. He blazed a path, often showing me how NOT to do things, and laughing right along with my mother, when I did them his way anyway. Now I’m the one stepping out first. It’s lonely out here.  And it is so very, very hard.

Since his death, our family has gone through so many tragedies and countless joys. We have welcomed new babies, celebrated graduations, cried tears over illnesses and sobbed, heart-broken, at the end of lives. But he is no longer here to stand with us. He was stolen away, instantly, because of a selfish, childlike man.

We are raising an entire generation of children Garry will never meet. It’s so hard to convey the enormity of his influence on our lives when these innocent people never knew him. It’s truly horrendous to explain to them the reasons he is no longer here. It is impossible to answer their questions of why.

I have been blessed with two more children. A niece and nephew Garry never got to meet. I had to hold it together when my very own father passed away. And I watch, day after day, dreading the inevitable. Some day in the very distant future, I will have to say goodbye to our mother. And on that day, I truly will feel alone.  I am the one who cried tears of joy, when his stepdaughter announced her pregnancy. The little girl he left behind is becoming a mother this year. And he will never know the beauty of becoming a grandfather. The thing about siblings is, you go through life together. Both the good and the bad. Only a sibling will know every thought inside your own head when bad things happen. Without Garry, I alone, have been left to carry on. Be strong for mom and set the example for our little brother. He is sorely missed. 

I’ve had to watch my mother break, time and time again, every year when September rolls around. We are hit 3 times harder this month. We watch our nation mourn on 9/11. Acknowledge Garry’s loss on 9/14. And celebrate another birthday he never was allowed to experience on 9/21. The calendar is our biggest enemy. I’ve buried my own pain so I can give my family the mother and wife they deserve. It is so very difficult. And yet, we do it. Every single year. Without fail. That’s what adults do. Responsible people struggle through adversity. They stand tall in difficult times. We do not lash out at others when life gets hard. Unlike Jack Groce, we bear our burdens responsibly, maturely, and legally. Where he chose to pick up a weapon, unprovoked, and end another life. 

Those actions ripped an entire existence in two. His time served in prison has no doubt, changed him. However, unlike functioning adults in everyday society, he still has shown no remorse. His words in the courtroom, 13 years ago were “I’m sorry, he just made me so mad”. Anger is a part of life. If this man chose to end another life because he was throwing a temper tantrum, I cannot imagine allowing him to once again walk the streets as a free man. The sheer irresponsibility and threat to society it would pose, is simply unimaginable. Please, keep this monster away from the rest of the world. He causes irreparable damage with no reason or thought to those left behind.

There are no words

Those of you who know me in real life know I've got a pretty quick temper, but I've learned how to keep it in check....for the most part. Lately though, someone, somewhere I believe, has decided to really test the limits of my ability. And I am failing miserably.

Background: My father-in-law is a quiet man. He's funny when he speaks out, can be a bit stubborn at times, but overall, he is a good person. There has always been some blatant bias against him from his step-mother, sadly. From what I've gathered in the 14 years I've been around, she is one of those people who sees children as a burden, and the children of another woman are huge inconveniences, less lovable and certainly not on equal par with those of her direct bloodline. When marrying a man with children from a previous relationship, she didn't get the memo on couth and decorum. It makes me sad to know this man, my wonderful husband's father, was raised by someone so ugly on the inside.

Fast forward to present day: there was a family event, recently. Certain family members weren't invited, due to a long-standing issue between the hosts of the event and these family members. There have been many insults, childish outbursts and more than one drunken rant at various functions in the past. The exclusion was more than justified. The step mother in this scenario, however, took a huge offense to one of "Her" children being excluded, even knowing the reasons, she was self-righteous in spewing some choice opinions to the other children in the family; my in-laws included. Well, the event took place, despite the hard feelings. They came, did not socialize, and left without much of any interaction with the rest of the family. I think it was more for show, than anything.

Since then, there has been a huge blow-out, egged on mostly by the Self-Righteous Step Mother and her Sad Attention Seeking Favored Child. Let's keep in mind here, these two are not children, the Step Mother is beyond retirement age and Sad Child is well into what can be technically considered "mature adulthood".  It has come to the point where Other Child who is still in Mother's Favor was dispatched to drive over 1,100 miles to deliver photos, wedding announcements, thank you cards and various other memorabilia; which had been sent over the years to Step Mother and Father by my in-laws. There was also a torn photograph. What used to be a 4 generation photo, taken of my husband as an infant. The pieces she returned to my father-in-law were just of him and my husband. His father and grandfather had been torn out of the photo, along with a nasty hand written note from Step Mother.

My own wedding announcement was returned, along with a lifetime of memories captured in photographs. In essence: my in-laws and their respective children, grandchildren, spouses, etc.,  have been "removed" from their Father and Step-Mother's life.

Life is so short, and fleeting. You make the best of it, take the good with the bad and at the end of the day, you still smile. For you have breath in your lungs and a heartbeat in your chest. Yet, today, here in my household, it is really hard. Watching a man, fully grown with 3 children and a crew of grandchildren, sit and cry. Because today, he is not a full grown man. He is the child who was never given a chance.

Somebody better help me out, prayers of intervention would be much appreciated, because my temper and my tongue are certainly NOT in check today....scenarios of retaliation are front and center in my mind.

The Wisdom of a Child

Through all the years I've been a mommy, it never fails to catch me off-guard. Some of my favorite quotes & questions of all time...

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K-age 7: "Mom, did God make the stars?" looking up at the sky one night...
Me: "Yes, He did"
K: "Huh...he did a pretty good job."

Well, I'll be sure to let him know you approve!

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Now this conversation took place one night, a few hours after an unexpected question she asked in the car. She had a vague idea about how the "birds and bees" worked, nothing explicit, but we went over general info, etc...


B-age 11:"So, um, did you and my dad have s**x?"
Me: "Well, YEAH, I have kids..."
B: absolutely horrified "You have to have S**X to have KIDS?!?!?"
Me: "um, yes, it's kinda part of the process" trying not to laugh

a few hours later...
B: "So, if I want like 3 or 4 kids, I can just have s**x just once and get it over with, right?"
Me: "No, that's not the way it works..."
B: Again, absolute horror "EWWwww, you mean I have to do it more than ONCE??"

at this point I was choking, holding back the laughter so it was continued another day...

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Playing outside one day, J&B managed to get her bike, flip it upside down on the seat and were spinning the front tire as fast as they could...

Me: "What are you doing?
J: " The tire's flat.."
Me: "Yeah, I see that, why are you spinning it?"
B: "Because, if we spin it really fast we can put the air back in it!"

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Me:..trying on a dress
K: "Ooh, that's pretty mom....your boobs look like mangoes!"
Me: "Mangoes?!?"
K: "Yeah, they're all round.."

=) Mangoes it is

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We were at dinner with friends and my girlfriend gave my oldest a small gift. She was explaining that it was from a co-worker and went into how Japanese culture often presents small gifts or tokens upon meeting with a client. She also explained that the higher esteem/importance you as a client hold, the bigger or more lavish, the gift might be. In response to this:

K: "Well, the next time you meet with them you should wear more funny clothes so they think that you're really poor..."

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Tree-huggin

I woke up to 5,713,483,902 posts celebrating Osama Bin Laden's death today...give or take a few.

I hate hearing his name, it brings back such awful memories of the losses suffered in our country and on a more personal note, it reminds me of the death of my hero. I love our military. I am eternally grateful for the sacrifices our service men and women make on a daily basis in order to secure our freedoms. But I found myself feeling really sad today. What does it say about us on a human level? Americans and people around the world are celebrating. They're literally dancing in the streets. When did we as people, sink down to rejoicing in the very death and destruction we claim to be fighting for? Am I the only one who sees the irony in that?

I am sure there will be multitudes of people who will read this and think "well, she is just anti-American, she has no pride in her country, she hates our military even as they defend her right to say that.." or some other crap. I am not wearing flowers in my hair, birkenstocks and hugging a tree. You will not find me marching in protests on the street with the anti-war set, and singing "Give Peace a Chance". Say what you will, but that is not what I am putting out here. I am simply looking at today, a day that will surely go down in history, and wondering how we all would feel from another point of view.

Osama Bin Laden. He was a man. A father. A mother's son. He was definitely my idea of an extreme waste of human life. But he was still a creature on this earth. A fellow living, breathing being. I do not celebrate today because he is dead. I take no happiness in knowing that in order for justice to be served we were reduced to hunting down a man like a dog and then casually disposing of him, extinguishing his life as though changing an empty toilet paper roll. I do not wish he were still alive. I only wish people would take a moment and feel some sort of compassion, on a basic human level, for such a wasted life. A life that began as all ours do, child to teen to adult and beyond. Of wasted opportunities and potential. Of dying in shame, humiliation and despair.

I heard Jeremy Kingsley speak at a conference a few years ago. He was telling a story about right after the 9/11 attacks, while speaking to a friend and gloating about how many Taliban would be killed by U.S. troops, there was a moment where he had a realization. Although it is good to love your country and be proud of your military, in God's eyes we are all His creation. He weeps for all lives lost. Taking pride in your country is one thing, but that does not mean happiness over the death of another. He was a human being. A creation of God. I feel sorry for how far he strayed from the path of right and wrong, choosing instead to live the life and wreak the destruction that hurt so many other people. But I cannot go out dancing and singing praises, rejoicing in the fact that he is dead by the hands of us all.

A little magic everywhere...

It's a typical mom reaction.

What you see: the dust, clutter, laundry, unwashed dishes, shoes on the floor

What you think: "oh man, I really gotta finish cleaning that, pick this up, go do that"

But as I sat enjoying a few minutes of actual reading (yes, a big-girl book, all mine!) on a self-declared lazy Sunday morning, my son taught me another valuable lesson.

With the morning sunlight streaming in through the window, he sat on the couch and leaned over, hit the middle cushion with his hands. As I looked up I witnessed the long awaited release of 1,000,000 pieces of dust flying up from the couch and of course, having those lovely rays of sunshine coming in through the curtains, each and every particle was gloriously showcased in their mad dash for freedom....(sigh)

But of course, this is my home, my children. Normalcy is a far-away land of imagination and never quite the case.

As I opened my mouth to say something "Please don't do that" (so I can pretend I won't be motivated to get up immediately and vacuum the cushions) I'm simultaneously thinking "Darn it, now I gotta get up and vacuum the cushions" my son, in his infinite wisdom declared, "Pixie Dust! I can fly!!"

And after a momentary pause, while I processed what he had actually said...(keep in mind, he's 12) all I could do was laugh. It makes you realize, a split second like that, how precious and short the good times can be. The never-ending mediocrity of day to day life fades away and the all consuming rush to get things done can always, briefly, be put aside.

Of course, I went ahead and said (with a smile and little giggle now) "Please don't do that again" while thinking..."I can vacuum tomorrow."

A little bit of pixie dust never hurt anybody....who knows, maybe tomorrow I can fly!

Sorrows of September

9 years....that's how long it's been since you breathed your last breath

It seems like such a long time to go without someone, but in my heart, my mind, especially in my soul it still feels like yesterday.

I can still smell you on the shirt you left behind..through all the times I've washed it and worn it, your scent still lies deep within the cloth...that shirt has dried thousands of tears, cradled the heartbeats of hundreds of sleepless nights, it's the last tangible link I have to you and yet, there you still remain.

So much has happened since you were taken away from us all; graduations, deaths, celebrations and sorrows, marriages, birthdays and family...you have so many nieces and nephews, babies who have now grown into teenagers, little girls you left behind have become beautiful young women seemingly overnight as time marches on...I've watched our mother break and fall, then slowly rise to face tomorrow once more, your sisters, brothers, we all struggled to keep our heads above the water, when all we really wanted to do is let go and drown in the sufferings of our hearts...we're still treading the deep ocean of loss, maybe some day we will reach the shore. I watched my 27th birthday approach, with fear and trepidation. Knowing it would arrive...saw Mom worry, fret and wonder, would she lose another child at the same age...and felt guilt on my 28th as I passed the milestone of your years, now older than you were ever allowed to grow. Through the loss and rebuilding of our lives, new relationships were formed, among the sisters you used to tease and the brothers you got in trouble with...what was once two families separated through divorce, is now a conglomeration of friends and love. We got together last month with our multitude of kids...and when the little ones asked "how are we related to them", we just smiled and laughed, the only explanation is love. The love we shared for you became a common ground and a family bond.

It is so hard to convey to the children the light you shone into all of our lives. We flip through countless pictures and tell thousands of stories recounting Uncle Garry's escapades and laugh so hard tears roll down our faces, but I can see the emptiness in their perceptions of you, because to them, you're merely a figment of our collective memories, but more, oh my brother, so much more you are to me, to all of us who still remain

Most days I wake up and the hurt has eased a bit, it never goes away, I hope it never does. I no longer double over in physical pain when I hear your name. I can look at your pictures without dissolving into wracking sobs. I can laugh at myself, as I imagine your voice, teasing as always when I do something dumb. The anger and rage are still inside, I remember watching the man who took your life into his own hands and destroyed it, sitting at the table in the courtroom, looking so pitiful and regretful. I still cannot find it in my heart to forgive him, but the murderous rage and burning desire for revenge has finally subsided into a dull ache, blistered and calloused over deep inside, where I keep it in check. I no longer let it consume me.

Garry, you're my big brother, my friend my hero and more. You taught me so much in the short life you lived. I only have to look for you in the grin of our little brother Brian, I watch for you in the way my son walks and I can see the sparkle of your eyes from my youngest daughter, one of the many you never knew. The world mourns the many losses of September 11th during this month, but for your family and friends, our burden is almost too much to carry remembering your death and the acknowledgment of your birthday.....wake me up when September ends...

Garry Wayne Brooks, Jr.
Given to us September 21, 1973
Taken away September 14, 2001

not a single moment of your life was in vain, through it all you were loved with every ounce of my being

Smile through the tears

And more often than not, as of late, it's a life of ups and downs. One day to the next, never knowing what's in store. What to do at times like these? It helps to find something to hold onto. The extraordinary in the everyday..and even on the worst of days, something to smile about...

-the sound of my children laughing

-sunshine and fluffy clouds on a beautiful day

-late night drives on a summer night; windows down and music up

-getting a text message out of the blue that makes me laugh out loud

-painted toenails

-snuggles on the couch

-milkshakes and ice pops

-feeling pretty in my clothes

-getting lost in a good novel

-song lyrics that speak to my soul

-sincere compliments from unexpected places

-the sound of a Harley, ripping up the highway

-stargazing

-the smell of fresh cut grass, cookies in the oven or racing fuel

-the way a great pair of jeans feels and looks

-singing along with the radio

-making plans with friends

-bedtime whispers of "I love you mom"


And above all else, hold onto the knowledge that this too, shall pass


Kahlil Gibran:
"... joy and sorrow are inseparable. . . together they come and when one sits alone with you . . . remember that the other is asleep upon your bed"

Something More

Recently I remembered a day with my daughter last year. We were standing in the middle of Lowes, waiting for a piece of plywood to be cut. I was helping my husband do a construction job that day, so I had on old clothes, messy hair, no makeup and I hadn't showered that morning.

I was holding her in my arms when all of a sudden she did the oddest thing. She stuck her nose deep in my neck, that little crevice between muscle and collarbone, and inhaled loudly. Then she did it again, right under my jaw.

I looked at her and asked "What are you doing" laughing out loud.

She looked up at me, straight in the eyes and said "You smell good Mommy."

I asked her, "How do I smell?" puzzled now, because I had no perfume, nor had I showered remember...

She replied with a shrug, all the while, still sniffing at my neck, "I don't know, you just smell good. Like 'YOU'. You have a smell and Daddy does too."

Awestruck I stood there, staring at her. This beautiful, innocent 6 year old child had brought my sense of reality to a screeching halt.

I've always believed in intuition, a higher calling, heightened senses and more, having experienced too many things in my life to deny them. But never, have I ever known a child to have such knowledge.

We all have a "scent" pheromones, hormones, etc. Unique to us all, babies learn this scent from birth, especially nursing infants, they can tell when their mother enters a room even without seeing her.

However, my daughter, 6 years LATER still recognized and "knew" this scent...
This is just one of several instances over the span of her lifetime that has made me take a step back and marvel at the unique wonder, awe-inspiring beauty that is a child.

Therapy

I've always found writing to be a fantastic release. Over the years I've amassed quite the collection of poetry, ramblings and so forth. I'll try and put them together so I don't end up with 165 blog posts consisting of 75-200 words each =)

All of my writing is straight and to the point. Some of it may be hard to read, but it's always honest and true at the time it was written.

Some of my pieces have special meaning and were written for someone(s) in particular. As this is none of your business, I won't be pointing to who/whom they pertain to, if it's you, you probably already know it <3

As always, thank you for reading and appreciating my words, to some it's art and others nonsense. But to me, as always, they are me, my heart and soul bared to you. Please handle with care.