Riding Wild Horses

Disclaimer:  I probably should not drink and blog, while depressed.  Ah well, it is what it is.   You have been warned....

Lately has brought back a flood of memories of my very dear friend Stephanie..  who left this world too soon.  Which, though painful and depressing as hell..   all this emotion is actually quite welcome since I as a result I was given some old pictures of her.  God.. what a precious gift.  Pics from 1992.. the year I started at the answering service and I was put at the computer next to her.. and there she was sitting.. in her U2 concert shirt.. and then began the friendship.  

I have already cried my eyes out..  now I am immersing myself in the wonders of U2.   Our favourite band in the world.  My first U2 concert was with her.   November 1997.  6th row on the floor in front of the stage.  Standing on top of metal folding chairs, (the chairs were chained together) AND it was raining.  :)  It was awesome!!!

I remember when she first passed away in 2005.. I couldn't listen to U2 for about two years.  Even now, ten years later, there are still songs I can't listen to without weeping.

Stephanie and I had a song.  Okay well actually we had two of them.  The other one was Sinead O'Connor's "Nothing Compares 2 U".  (that's a whole 'nother story)...  But.. "Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses" was "our" main song.

Why was this our song?  She said it always made her think of me.   I told her "things" I know that I "wasn't supposed to".   1992-93 was a major pivotal time of my life.. I was scared, and "didn't know what I wanted".  She was my trusted confidant.  I held nothing back.  She was a good listener, and she never judged.  I was "dangerous, because I was honest".  I trusted too easily..  She was forever trying to lovingly toughen me up.  God love her.

I was pregnant.  Not under good circumstances.  I was that "accident waiting to happen."  I always joke she delivered my baby.  Best ever Aunt who wasn't really an aunt. :)

I would have "lied, if she'd asked me to".  (She loved me enough she would never do that)  But at that age, we were young enough and snotty and spirited enough.. you never knew with us..

Steph's been gone almost ten years.   This November 18th..  

I go to were she's buried... still the grave is unmarked..  so I mark it myself with things I bring her.   

So now it's me driving there, to the cemetery.. "in the dirty rain... to the place where the wind calls her name."  

"Under the trees"  ironically next to a river...  it's actually beautiful where she was put to rest.  I hear her in the wind in the trees.  I feel her in the breeze.  She's everywhere, but she meets me there.  💜  She knows.. she's on the other side of that veil.  Almost like on the other side of a mirror.. I can't see her.. but I know she is there.  I know she watches out for me still.  Still being my friend.  

"Hallelujah...Heavens door..."

Dear God, that "door" she "opened"... "I just can't close".... even after ten years... because I want her back.  
Yes I am selfish.  And I. Don't. Care.  
Losing someone is NOT something you "get over".  It's not a cold.

Our "gypsy hearts"...   and I can't help but "look back".  Depression.. 

 "the deeper I spin.."

Who's going to take the place of her?  No one.  No one ever can.  She is still with me.  I feel her.


"You're dangerous 'cause you're honest
You're dangerous, you don't know what you want
Well you left my heart empty as a vacant lot
For any spirit to haunt

Hey hey sha la la
Hey hey

You're an accident waiting to happen
You're a piece of glass left there on the beach
Well you tell me things I know you're not supposed to
Then you leave me just out of reach

Hey hey sha la la
Hey hey sha la la

Who's gonna ride your wild horses
Who's gonna drown in your blue sea
Who's gonna ride your wild horses
Who's gonna fall at the foot of thee

Well you stole it 'cause I needed the cash
And you killed it 'cause I wanted revenge
Well you lied to me 'cause I asked you to
Baby, can we still be friends

Hey hey sha la la
Hey hey sha la la

Who's gonna ride your wild horses
Who's gonna drown in your blue sea
Who's gonna ride your wild horses
Who's gonna fall at the foot of thee

Oh, the deeper I spin
Oh, the hunter will sin for your ivory skin
Took a drive in the dirty rain
To a place where the wind calls your name
Under the trees the river laughing at you and me
Hallelujah, heavens white rose
The doors you open
I just can't close

Don't turn around, don't turn around again
Don't turn around, your gypsy heart
Don't turn around, don't turn around again
Don't turn around, and don't look back
Come on now love, don't you look back

Who's gonna ride your wild horses
Who's gonna drown in your blue sea
Who's gonna taste your salt water kisses
Who's gonna take the place of me

Who's gonna ride your wild horses
Who's gonna tame the heart of thee"

~Bono, U2

A Sunday of Tears

A Sunday of Tears

Where to begin?  My daughter had someone hurt her today..  apparently because she is autistic.   Seeing my sensitive, tender-hearted daughter crying because she has such a hard time making and keeping friends upsets me.  All kids have trouble, but I am here to tell you that it is harder for kids who are special needs.  And it's not always the other children.  Sometimes it is the parents.  Ignorance abounds, and it is so, so sad.

It took another mom, (God bless her!) to help me to realize I need to be my daughters playmate.. I knew this of course, but sometimes we just 'need' to 'hear' things, to 'ring that bell' in our brains.  Thank you dear lady!

I have heard that Padre Pio could 'read souls'.  I am wondering if our own Fr. Sal is the same?  After mass we chatted a few moments with friends, and seeing the priest approaching, we were going to just quietly slip out so they could talk.  He stopped us.  Not a word, but called us over.  Looks into my daughter's face, and asked her if she was okay.  She responded she was fine, but had had a "bad morning" but it was better now.  Father Sal told her that when she was sad, she should pray to Jesus and His Mother, and ask them to help her and they would.  Then he hugged her, kissed her face, and told her he loved her.  The floodgates opened.  My daughter wept her little heart out.  I was moved to tears watching the kindness of this dear man, and my little girl.    So afterwards, he made her "pinky promise" that she should call him any time.  Dear, dear sweet man.

So then he turns to me, looks into my eyes, and asks me if I'm taking care of myself.  "I'm trying to..."  He tells me, "You must.  It's important..." Gives me a couple of big hugs and kisses me  (sweet, Grandfatherly old Italian man who always kisses ♥ LOVE HIM!) and then he says it.. he looks into my eyes, like he's looking THROUGH me, and says, "Please open yourself to Jesus".  That's when I realized I'd been "holding my breath" with Jesus..  Father knew.  I don't know HOW he knew..  *I* didn't even know..  Robyn and I were mopping tears all the way out to the car.

Tonight I was reminded about the baby bottles we're supposed to be filling with change for Emergency Pregnancy Services.  This is dear to my heart, so of course I'm happy to save/collect change "for the babies".  So I'm home filling this baby bottle with change, and I look at the slip of paper inside, and it says you can donate the money "in memory" of someone.  

Stephanie

This November will be 8 years since my beautiful 36 year old friend died suddenly, in her sleep, with no warning.  I think of the three babies she lost, and I believe in my heart that now she is with her babies in Heaven..  

I don't know what made her pop into my head.  Her.  Her babies.  But it's been almost 8 years and I swear the pain is just as fresh today as it was the day she died.   I grieve her babies I would have loved like my own children, the way I love my nieces and nephew.  I grieve all the things I said or didn't get to say.  That I didn't get to say goodbye to her.  That she's still in an unmarked grave pains me in a way I can't even describe.. I've even called the cemetery and sobbed, begged, and pleaded if I could get some kind of marker for her..  anyway... I can't shake her tonight.. I miss you Steph.  

Tonight I weep for friends and babies taken away too young and too soon.  For special needs children who feel lonely and friendless... and for sweet loving clergy who comfort us and pray for us all.  Pray for the religious...  they have such a burden to bear..  

God bless them.

Fear, Grief, and Shoelaces Tied

My mom has Non Hodgkins Lymphoma.  She's had it for 14 years. She had chemo today.  The future is scary.  She is scared.  I am scared for her.  She's already done over and beyond better than they ever hoped... but how long can this go on?  Her health is bad.  I am scared for my mom.

Today my 11 yr old daughter learned to tie her shoes finally.  She is globally delayed, and visually impaired.  Motor skills have never been her strong point.  But by golly, she can tie her shoes now. It's interesting to me that when she was five years old she could correctly use the word 'facetious', and knew exactly what it meant, and has a bigger vocabulary than many adults, but the child just learned to tie her shoes.  How crazy is that?!  

I have been reading my friend's story of her son's short life... one day.. and his death.  It's hard to read.  It makes me think.  Makes me thankful for my children.  I have never lost a child.  But I do grieve the children I might have had... had I known what I was doing... and very well could have literally flushed away a baby of mine and never even known about it.  That 'what if' is something I have to live with every single day.  My penance for not trusting God enough.. and for going the way of the world instead of the Cross.

I've lost my grandpop, and I lost my best friend Stephanie.   Grandpop died the day before my 40th birthday.  Funny.  I was so 'worried' about turning 40... and then as it turned out, it didn't matter.  He was 40 when I was born.  I was hours shy of 40 when he died.  I didn't want my birthday to come.  I convinced myself that if I could just NOT turn 40, then grandpop would live.  It didn't work out that way.  Momma says that she thinks I should consider it an honor that Grandpop died at my birthday.  I can't though.  It hurts too much.

When Stephanie died, it was the week before my birthday.  November 18th.  I still cry sometimes when I think of her.  I still talk to her... I think she can hear me.  I can feel her.. and I can feel grandpop.  I have felt two of my grandmothers too, in the past.  One came to me once in a very vivid dream, just two days before she died, to tell me goodbye.  Stephanie has come to me twice since her death.  Once telling me she was in Heaven, and she was okay.  The other time to help me move past a bad point I was at....  she was literally an answer to a prayer.  People may think I'm nuts.  No... I'm not.  Our loved ones are still our loved ones.  Grandpop has never come to me.  Perhaps because as painful as his death was for me, I was able to accept it better.  After all, he'd lived a long, full, and happy life.  He was loved, and absolutely LOVED all of us.  He loved Jesus, and I know that Grandpop is happy in Heaven...  maybe that's why his was easier.  Because I had no doubts with Grandpop, and knew he was okay.  He literally went to his reward.  Stephanie was too young, and there were, for me, too many questions and fears and doubts and anger and profound grief.  Maybe that's why her death was so difficult for me.

So why all this today?  I had to take a class this morning... Protecting God's Children... They showed a film I can only describe as 'icky'.  About perverts.  About how they prey on kids, and even vulnerable adults.  I felt sick after seeing the film.  It brought back memories for me... ones I'd forgotten about.  It also brought back suspicions of people I've known...afterward there was a long discussion.. but it was... opening of a can of worms.  I can't get it out of my head now.  It angers me to know that we do so much to protect our families and our loved ones... but these predators watch, and wait, and plan.  To do their worst.  Sickos.  And what do I do?  Come home and pick up the grief book about my friend's precious little son.  

My highlight of the day... my Robyn tying her shoes.  Wow.  LOL  That sounds so bad!!

I've done a lot of crying today... trying to hide it from my hubby who can't understand why I'm so sensitive and all these tears for "just a class" I took.  I don't think he knows about the book I'm reading, or where my brain is at while I'm reading.  He knows I talked to momma, but I doubt he knows how worried I am.  It's not that I don't think that men worry and grieve... that's silly.. of course I know that they do.  I just don't think that they do it the same way women do... and as far as that goes... we are all individuals... so is our grief.  

The day and time is going to come... I will have more heartache and grief.  I know that... it is part of life.  Part of living and dying.  I wonder how I will handle it.  I didn't handle it good at all when Steph died.  I sobbed every day literally for months. I had never been so grief stricken in all my life.  I loved her like a sister.  God... I still miss her so much.  I think of her still, and sometimes still cry.  The pain is still there, but eased.  

My mom always warned me about "borrowing trouble".  I wonder if that's exactly what I am doing this evening.  Borrowing trouble.  But today has been full of reminders of people whom I've loved, and their passings... of horrible memories and revelations that set inside me hurt and disgust and anger... too much... and I'm spending tonight trying to process it all.

Therapy is sounding pretty darn good to me at this point.

My bright spot of the day... tied shoes.  Messily  and awkwardly tied, but tied nonetheless.  

I wish I could talk to my priest.. like.. NOW.  I wish I could spend the night in the Adoration chapel at St Paul's.  But instead I will weep silently tonight, next to my husband, and pray.  I just don't what else I can do right now... so all I can do.. is to 'be'.  And give it all to God.  He can handle any mess I give him.  And it's a good thing..  because this one's a doozie.