“This is the cost of sharing your life with someone worth missing”

The other day, I spent the day in a familiar place with a friend, a place that holds so many beautiful, but now painful memories. Odd how something that was a place of immense joy for me, could now haunt my soul. It was very difficult for me to venture back and truth be told, i nearly did not go. Because I knew of the immense fear that my nemesis my anxiety, would work hard at sabotaging my day.

I did go and am glad, even though several times I had to fight back the notion to want to leave. I did my best to instead, try to embrace the beauty that still existed here. I focused only on the sound of the waves crashing on the beach, and to try to be in just that moment, even when i felt consumed by pain and grief.  I laughed and i enjoyed myself, but the day also had tears and sorrow. A constant reminder that my life will always hurt and feel as if i am but a fraction the person i once was. I am constantly struggling, so very hard to hold on to what of me is left.

While up in Morgan and my old stomping grounds, I ran into someone who knew the old me, someone who knew Morgan. For anyone living in the fog of grief, you know you have perpetual mush brain, you tend to block out a lot or  forget people, or events, because it is easier than the pain. I knew i recognized this person but yet could not place why? She embraced me with a warm smile and a hug, to which I reciprocated both actions. It came back to me who she was and as I smiled and made small talk.  I was told how much better I am doing, and how i am moving on, because my smile was back……..UGH!!!!  And out of nowhere, I felt as if I had been swallowed up by a heavy haze and could  feel the rush of overwhelming anxiety starting.

She did nothing wrong, and was sincere, but yet my mind, heart, and soul immediately was thrown in to a state of fight or flight. You see, when you are lost in a constant expedition to find some happiness, monsters accompany that journey… For within that momentary jubilance, you always know that lurking  and waiting for the opportunity to steal your thunder is your grief  and it will do everything it can to overshadow it with guilt and anguish. You fight it and pray and long to hold on to that  brief feeling of normal, you ache for it to  last, but it never does.

Grief is evil, it takes everything you once knew and takes control of your mind set like a narcissistic person. It makes you second guess every action, and critiques your movements like it owns you, and for the most part it does……I guess where i am going with this is, yes I smiled that day, I laughed, i enjoyed my self, at the end of the day i was glad i went. With that said, i also cried, and felt pain and had to fight all day to stay above the grief and it is exhausting to the point of wanting to sleep the entire next day….. Grief does not end, i am not better just because i can smile. But I am oh so thankfully to have some of those few moments that are exultant… Please understand we bereaved parents have to fight with every ounce of our being, every moment of everyday to find something to smile about and to do so without guilt and pain. What comes easy for most is the battle of a life time for us, this is the price one pays to have loved someone who is worth missing and for that gift, i will humbly pay the price.  

John Pavlovitz, summed up very well for me when the day i will finally stop grieving will be.

The Day I’ll Finally Stop Grieving

OCTOBER 31, 2015 / JOHN PAVLOVITZ

“How long has it been? When is he going to get over that grief and move on already?”

I get it.

I know you might be thinking that about me or about someone else these days.

I know you may look at someone you know in mourning and wonder when they’ll snap out of it.

I understand because I use to think that way too.

Okay, maybe at the time I was self-aware enough or guilty enough not to think it quite that explicitly, even in my own head. It might have come in the form of a growing impatience toward someone in mourning or a gradual dismissing of their sadness over time or maybe in my intentionally avoiding them as the days passed. It was subtle to be sure, but I can distinctly remember reaching the place where my compassion for grieving friends had reached its capacity—and it was long before they stopped hurting.

Back then like most people, my mind was operating under the faulty assumption that grief had some predictable expiration date; a reasonable period of time after which recovery and normalcy would come and the person would return to life as it was before, albeit with some minor adjustments.

I thought all these things, until I grieved.

I never think these things anymore.

Two years ago I remember sitting with a dear friend at a coffee shop table in the aftermath of my father’s sudden passing. In response to my quivering voice and my tear-weary eyes and my obvious shell shock, she assured me that this debilitating sadness; this ironic combination of searing pain and complete numbness was going to give me a layer of compassion for hurting people that I’d never had before. It was an understanding, she said, that I simply couldn’t have had without walking through the Grief Valley. She was right, though I would have gladly acquired this empathy in a million other ways.

Since that day I’ve realized that Grief doesn’t just visit you for a horrible, yet temporary holiday. It moves in, puts down roots—and it never leaves. Yes as time passes, eventually the tidal waves subside for longer periods, but they inevitably come crashing in again without notice, when you are least prepared. With no warning they devastate the landscape of your heart all over again, leaving you bruised and breathless and needing to rebuild once more.

Grief brings humility as a housewarming gift and doesn’t care whether you want it or not.

You are forced to face your inability to do anything but feel it all and fall apart. It’s incredibly difficult in those quiet moments, when you realize so long after the loss that you’re still not the same person you used to be; that this chronic soul injury just won’t heal up. This is tough medicine to take, but more difficult still, is coming to feel quite sure that you’ll never be that person again. It’s humbling to know you’ve been internally altered: Death has interrupted your plans, served your relationships, and rewritten the script for you.

And strangely (or perhaps quite understandably) those acute attacks of despair are the very moments when I feel closest to my father, as if the pain somehow allows me to remove the space and time which separates us and I can press my head against his chest and hear his heartbeat once more. These tragic times are somehow oddly comforting even as they kick you in the gut.

And it is this odd healing sadness which I’ll carry for the remainder of my days; that nexus between total devastation and gradual restoration.It is the way your love outlives your loved one.

I’ve walked enough of this road to realize that it is my road now. This is not just a momentary detour, it’s the permanent state of affairs. I will have many good days and many moments of gratitude and times of welcome respite, but I’m never fully getting over this loss.

This is the cost of sharing your life with someone worth missing.

Two years into my walk in the Valley I’ve resigned myself to the truth that this a lifetime sentence. At the end of my time here on the planet, I will either be reunited with my father in some glorious mystery, or simply reach my last day of mourning his loss.

Either way I’m beginning to rest in the simple truth:

The day I’ll stop grieving—is the day I stop breathing.

 

Keeping Afloat

 

Wow, I cannot believe I stopped blogging, or even understand why i did?…..Looking back and reading some of my raw, honest, and sometimes verbally violent post, I realize they were so therapeutic and for the most part,  productive for my needs at the time. Importantly it also gave me an outlet with little judgement. when writing, i don’t owe anyone anything. I hope my writings will have some positive outreach for others than just me, maybe to touch someone, or educate them, or to simply validate the feelings of those, that may be fighting the same evil game.  Although at the end of the day,  i only owe myself the luxury of purporting my life, all be it a life that seems to be a fallacy.

I am not sure who this will reach as it has been almost three years since i have done this, but it is definitely  time to reflect. It has been five years 8 months since life as i know it was changed and it has been 2 years 8 months since i have wrote about it…I cannot even begin to compute that time has passed by so fast and yet most days i still feel like it is November 16, 2011 or the end of my life as i once knew it.  I still find myself so lost, lonely, and isolated, and yet it seems to be by choice, because i feel as if my new normal does not fit into mainstream. I have come to understand that I literally have shut down and only challenge myself for short periods of time and than seem to bottom out…. I have bounced from several jobs as well as houses since my last entry, i suppose in search of some sort of purpose or hopes of a miracle cure. Although, i suspect the odds of a miracle cure are probably about the same odds as your child being killed at 16, ironic, huh?

So now, i am not considered newly bereaved by societies standards, whatever still feels new to me. Time seems to have stopped for me and resulted in a constant quest to survive to find some sort of magical thing to make me feel like me again. while trying to accomplish this, i seem to hurt more people because of my pain. I have lost the ability to open my heart to many and keep most at arms length because it is easier than dealing with my not so always buoyant moods. I find people want to fix me when i can’t fix myself, they want to genuinely bring back the old me, when in truth that person died with Morgan.

Although, i can say, i have experienced some joy i mean actual joy without guilt, that in itself is huge.  Even with the draw bridge up and the moat dug deeply in my protective haven, i have found solace in new friends who have become like family, somehow who have found a way over the walls and made me feel safe and loved and genuinely embrace the new fucked up version of me, and for that i am thankful. I have learned to do what i want when i want, (well when i can) to find some assuagement, like backpacking across Spain. I have learned I am only capable of living a day at a time and not allowing expectations for that day, just to be in the moment, good or bad. I have learned that friends and family that are in it for the long haul with me are gold and a blessing.

But my reality is, I just miss Morgan so much, i truly think more in so many different ways. Hard to explain but the initial pain of the loss and the reality of the loss are two different animals. I am still bitter and angry that not only did my baby girl die, which stole her future, it also stole so much of mine. All the things a mother wishes for not only for her child/children but to share with, is gone.  Her friends have all graduated high school, she never got to. A lot of them went to college, again she did not.  Her friends are now graduating college, getting married, starting their lives. Morgan remains forever Sweet 16, and I  remain stalled in time, trying to figure out how to live a life without my best friend, my daughter and all our future dreams. I still can’t handle going to baby showers, or wedding, hell even graduation parties, because it hurts too damn much. I am happy for those celebrating but so pissed that i will never get those pleasures…

So, although 5 years 8 months has gone by, i still find that everyday is a  new challenge which seem to be ever changing. Time does not change or lessen the pain, as some would like to tell you, on the contrary it only changes the struggle, giving a different kind of pain. Losing a child is by far the most cruel thing a parent will go through and I now see will be a lifetime pain that has left so much void in my heart and life.

I hope to get back to blogging more often with hopes of continuing in trying to be an anchor that refuses to sink, although it seems like i spend most my time treading water.  To my club members of the club nobody wants to belong to, I will not lie, this new normal life we are forced to live, is the hardest road any parent can ever travel. Keep treading

Choices

Three years ago today, A mother made a choice to provide alcohol for her son. She chose to allow her drunk son and his friend to get behind the wheel of his truck and drive, which resulted in his own death, as well as killing my daughter.
Their choices took away my child, her future, the life of a beautiful young woman who had just begun to live.
Three years ago today, their choices determined what would from now on would be a “Normal” life for me.

This Is Now What “Normal” Is …
Author Unknown

Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize someone important is missing from all the important events in your family’s life.

Normal for me is trying to decide what to take to the cemetery for Birthdays, Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, July 4th and Easter.

Normal is feeling like you know how to act and are more comfortable at a funeral than a wedding or birthday party.. yet feeling a stab of pain in your heart when you smell the flowers and see the casket.

Normal is feeling like you can’t sit another minute without getting up and screaming, because you just don’t like to sit through anything.

Normal is not sleeping very well because a thousand ‘what ifs’ and ‘why didn’t I’s’ go through your head constantly.

Normal is reliving that day continuously through your eyes and mind, holding your head to make it go away.

Normal is having the TV on the minute you walk into the house to have noise, because silence is deafening.

Normal is staring at every young girl who looks like she is my daughter’s age and then thinking of the age she would be now and not being able to imagine it. Then wondering why it is even important to imagine it, because it will never happen.

Normal is every happy event in my life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind because of the hole in my heart.

Normal is telling the story of your child’s death as if it were an everyday, commonplace activity, and then seeing the horror in someone’s eyes at how awful it sounds, and yet realizing it has become a part of my “normal”.

Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your child’s memory and their birthday and survive these days, trying to find the balloon or flag that fits the occasion. Happy Birthday? Not really.

Normal is my heart warming and yet sinking at the sight of something special that reminds me of my daughter. Thinking how she would have loved it, but how she’s not here to enjoy it.

Normal is having some people afraid to even mention my daughter.

Normal is making sure that others remember her.

Normal is that after the funeral is over, everyone else goes on with their lives but we will continue to grieve our loss forever.

Normal is weeks, months and years after the initial shock, the grieving gets worse sometimes, not better.

Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to this loss, unless they too have lost a child. NOTHING. Even if your child is in the remotest part of the earth away from you – it doesn’t compare. Losing a parent is horrible, but having to bury your own child is unnatural.

Normal is trying not to cry all day, because I know my mental health depends on it.

Normal is realizing I do cry everyday.

Normal is being impatient with everything and everyone, but someone stricken with grief over the loss of your child.

Normal is feeling a common bond with friends on the computer in England, Australia, Canada, the Netherlands and all over the USA, but never having met any of them face to face.

Normal is a new friendship with another grieving mother, talking and crying together over our children and our new lives.

Normal is being too tired to care if you paid the bills, cleaned the house, did laundry or if there is any food in the house.

Normal is wondering this time whether you are going to say you have three children or two, because you will never see this person again and it is not worth explaining that my daughter is in Heaven. Yet when you say you have two children to avoid that problem, you feel horrible as if you have betrayed your daughter.

Normal is knowing I will never get over the loss, in a day or a million years. And last of all, Normal is hiding all the things that have become “normal” for you to feel, so that everyone else around you will think you are “normal”.

Please think about your choices……Because when you choose to drink and drive, yours is not the only life that may be changed.

 

The Walk

I have this friend who to me has always been the epitome of an itinerant. I have had the pleasure of knowing him for 25 years or more and never understood his way of life, sometimes even criticizing his choices because it was not what i inherently believed society has deemed to be that of the human norm.  In my eyes I had the perfect life, beautiful children, the monitory esthetics, and a husband who was the definition of a good man, and father. Life is complete, right? How could everyone not want that and strive for that?  I always felt that my friend must be missing out on so much, such as love, stability, security, instead it seemed as if he focused on the proverbial pipe dream. How can one believe that they will ever find solace in a life that is not grounded with the tradition of the set of sacraments we are engrained with for what “Life” should be? Maybe the answer is that there is no consolation in one place, especially for those whose soul are tortured. Whether it be grief, or feelings of inadequacy or purely that the expectations of who you are suppose to be has left you feeling as if your soul has been sucked out of you.  Maybe for some the pipe dream is just that a fallacy, for my friend this seems not to be the case.

Maybe my friend chose for his life style to be more of a journey than most will ever fathom, because he knew some where deep inside that for him to seek fulfillment was to break the tradition of what was expected. We as humans seem to instinctively bind ourselves with chains, but I believe we all  have a visceral part of our psyche that craves to see past what has for us become an abstraction of what should be our reality.  So I ponder and succumb to the ugly truth that my being is no longer what once was a life full of certainty and promise, it has pragmatically become something that is neither derivative nor dependent but more of an existence where I lack active strength of body and mind. I feel as if I am standing outside witnessing the suffering of a chronic illness that will enviably consume and  succeed with the demise of my soul.  I mean shit, one can only snuggle with your demons for so long…..Finding a new normal has been almost as exhausting as how i feel i came to be in my predicament, and I am so tired of trying to fit in to what the standards tell me i should do….So what is to be learned from this? I wish I had the answers, I wish i could whip up some witty smart ass thing to say, because we all weather our own storms and we would like to believe that the storm will run out of rain, but as of now I cannot say this….So what is left to do with a life that is not mine to take, continue the journey which may just start with a walk. Thanks for the book Peppi ❤

 

You can’t fix Stupid

 

 

 

Onces again, ignorance at it finest!  We have had a reward sign up since our Morgan was tragically Murdered. The truth behind her death has been written in black and white and posted for all to see. The guilty parties know who they are as we do too.  They refused to learn from their ways and beg for forgiveness by owning their part in this preventable tragedy. No Morgan can not be brought back!  But Morgan’s death can at the very least have some closure for all involved. Simple things could be done by coming forward and admitting your wrong. Again it won’t bring her back but the truth may set those involved free if they even have a conscious, as well as maybe allow us to at the very least to know that the people that caused this feel remorseful and want to try and right their wrong in any small fraction of a way..

 

Instead they out of obvious guilt decided to  cut down our plea for help in bring justice to our daughters death. My only answer to this callous act is to vent and let them know we will not be silenced, We will not stop seeking justice.

 

So to you involved, and or responsible for every aspect of our families life sentence, this is my response!

Good Job Douche’ Bag/bags!!!! You have not only proven you are an unsympathetic Pathological Narccissist , who has exhibited time and time again you and your inbred crew are all psychopaths… Now you have gone and impressed us with your ability to use a saw…..WOW!!! Pure talent considering you probably tried to do it with a beer in your hand…..Do you honestly think that your actions have made us forget? Do you honestly think your actions have made us forgive? Now come on do you honestly think that makes us not still seek out absolute accountability as well as justice? Crack another beer and ponder that!!!!!

Unf*ck Your Life: A Guide for the F*cked

Okay before anybody judges a book by its cover in this case the title…….DO NOT!!!!

My journey thru this evil grief process has been one of many trials and errors, what I mean by this is that yet again, i must redundantly regurgitate the most paramount lesson one must learn in this process, there are no rules. Having no rules means that all the advice in the world cannot prepare one for how crippled and discombobulated their life will become with grief.  Looking back at some of my post, i see such emotions as hatred, love, anger, disbelief, loss of hope, honestly too many to list…Its like I am Cybil.

After 2 years and 6 months I am still struggling to live, you know, really live. I still feel as if I am slithering in quicksand, with no end in sight.   I know my life will and cannot ever be the old normal again, how could it be? My daughter’s life was brutally taken from me. I am however, still pressing forward with the hope of  to continue fighting tooth and nail in search of my new normal. I miss Morgan, more than I could have ever fathomed….after all this time, it still seems like yesterday and in no way has  gotten better nor easier, just different.  The bottom line is that it has been 2 years and 6 months and I have not given up, so there you have it, I have not given up.

I strive to find ways to keep what is left of my sanity and find that like a new mother, one searches for information on how to start your life with a new child and be the best as your capabilities  in order to truly live and enjoy the best life has to offer. You take in and absorb all the advice and information like a sponge in hopes of giving not only yourself but your child the ability to embrace what it is to truly live and flourish.  Now as a grieving mother, i find this to be true again, and I search for a way to have the best quality of life someone in my predicament can have with hope of someday having a life  that  will be worth living again.

I want to share something with everyone that I hope in some facet of your life that may help you find a bit of personal solace. My brother sent me a link to a book called Unfuck Your Life: A Guide for the Fucked,  I was fascinated as well as intrigued by the title and found myself reading the writings of a man i now find brilliant and inspiring. I have found that his  in your face truth is a gospel of how to make changes to change ones life. Will it be the end to all bad in your life? Will it miraculously cure the ill? Probably not, but what my hopes of sharing it are that it will be something that is an inspiring tool for perseverance of a life worth living. I know I have nothing to lose  at this point and still grasp on to hope, and this blog gives me hope. My aspirations are that you find inspiration as well as hope in any or all of his writings…..I certainly have, and in a world where i rarely feel inspired, it feels damn good to feel stimulated. I hope you are stimulated as well: https://www.facebook.com/unfckyourlife

 

Chasing My Tail

It has been a long time since I have wrote on my blog. I have been working so much just to keep my mind clear and thought taking a step back from things would make the healing more easier. It has been 2 years 5 months and 2 days since Morgan was taken from me and contrary to popular belief it does not get easier. The pain is still there and it is hard to decipher if it changes anymore, it seems to become somewhat stagnate you just learn to live with the constant aching. I have said before that there is an immense difference between being alive and living. I still find that the demons lurk in the daylight as well in the darkness,  I can only compare this to a dark cloud that completely encompasses you and is your constant companion. No matter how much I throw myself into this farce of a life or self medicate or both at the end of the day there is still little hope of joy or a small glimpse of a ray of shining sun. Oddly enough the grieving parent has now become the disillusioned parent. You are like a dog that chases your tail, so determined, but no matter how hard you pursue, you never prevail. I get up, go to work, come home go to bed, try to sleep which still is a struggle, just to wake up and do it all over again.  I surmise that the mind set of chasing my tail could be presumed as a positive challenge in the sense that i am still hopeful, and still have enough determination  to continue with this wicked quest even though failure seems imminent.  Grief makes one do things that are sometimes just a sick form of mental mutilation similar to someone who cuts. You hurt so badly you become numb, so you cut to feel pain and bleed which reaffirms you are still alive. I do still crave and ponder the prospect that maybe i will learn to really live again. Until than I slowly travel with a feeling of cement bricks tied to my feet while trudging thru quick sand.

 

The Walls are crumbling

I haven’t blogged in a while, I thought maybe my walls had been built high enough to keep all my demons out. But sadly i find this is not true, I have come to understand that my life has become something similar to the movie ground hog day, it doesn’t go away it doesn’t change and no matter how hard I thrust myself into everyone else’s world at the end of the day i have to step back into mine.

Working has been a wonderful distraction but a facade, i have something pushing me to exist because i must live, but i find i am still not alive. I feel the burnout coming, i can feel the moistness of the fog that turns into  the darkness knowing its shadows are slowly  blanketing my being. I am not sure if it is because its the nearing time of year where my real life ended, or if i am just completely depleted, probably a little of both.  I am at the  point where I get up look in the mirror and realize that the only reason I go to work is because it is the last stitch holding together my sanity and purpose together.

I find myself searching for the answer of is this the best I will every have? I barely am surviving emotionally, financially, physically and yet i force my self to continue the daily ritual of what i have to do to get to the next day! Why? What will the next day possibly have to offer that is different than today? Its like climbing a mountain and exerting every ounce of energy you can muster to get to the top to see that there is another mountain to climb. No reward, no feeling of accomplishment. Just the feeling that you have to start all over again. I am tired, so tired and feel as if I am running out of reasons to conform. My job gives me a sense of being needed which is paramount to my personal requirements, and yet there has to be more to a new life than that. I find I am back in the mode of I only have to work two more days than a day off, if i can get through that I am golden. Yet when that day off gets here, I have no strength to do anything, I am so exhausted that i wish to do nothing, I mean nothing! It is a chore to make something to eat or shower. I do not even wish to remain out of bed for longer than a refill on coffee or occasion cigarette!

I still do it, I get up every day with the attitude today is going to be the day!  Things are going to change for me and there will be a new light showing me the way but there is never any light. Will there ever be a day where there is? Will it ever feel like I am doing more than buying time to my end of life?

I can’t help but feel that this vicious circle will not be broken and yet I keep praying and trying  in hopes that i find a light before I my body completely shuts down because it has too much to bear and goes its own way quietly inside waiting for a better time, leaving me this numb and half alive forever.

Grief Could Use a GPS

Work has been a welcome distraction, although I talk about you daily, it does help to keep my mind occupied. The down time is sometimes overwhelming as my thoughts are inundated with you!  I still feel so violated in so many ways!  I never got the answers I needed, I never got accountability for how you were taken from me. I live knowing I will never get to do the things that I have dreamt of your entire life, and honestly it just takes the breath from my lungs. It has almost been 21 months and although I am learning how to function, I still feel lost and am uncertain of my destination.  I suppose if I methodically continue to keep my spare time to a minimum I will continue to travel in search of true life, not just living.

I just still feel so empty and in pain, i miss you so much! Words cannot begin to explain the void in my life. Your face is the first thing I see when I wake up and the last thing i see before I sleep, which makes me smile for a moment and than fills my heart with more pain.  I miss you my baby girl, every-day and every moment! I would give my life to just have one more moment with you,   to see that beautiful smile and those amazing eyes, and hear that contagious laugh. I love you baby girl forever and a day and look forward to the day I see you again….until than i will try to continue to walk down the road to find the peace that may give me the strength to find some kind of joy again, which seems impossible without you!

I have seen better Days!!

Tomorrow I try once again to join the real world, as much as this is not my choice. I would much rather live like a gypsy and try to find the strength to find my way out of my darkness, and find my new normal. I walked away from my good paying job six months after Morgan was stolen from my life, I worked another job months after that, which i really enjoyed but found my emotional state was so unstable. I would be fine for a while and than something would set me off and I was unable to keep my composure. Its ironic to me that grief is not a medical condition as it is so debilitating, chronic, and unpredictable!  There is no cure, no quick fix, and it has vast effects on each individual! For me, it has been a life sentence!  It has changed me to the point, I have little interest in much! I have intermittent moments of steady weeks as well as momentary joy, and yet still have more of uncontrollable anguish! Little things that would not shake the average person, cripple me.

Financially I have no choice at this point to step back into the work force, I have an interview tomorrow and although I am so intrigued of the prospect of a new endeavor. I cannot find the excitement I need to prosper in it, its a survival thing! I have to do it if I want to remain with a roof over my head, but know it will not allow me to live, just exist. Maybe it is what it is as for the last 19 months, that is all I have done anyway! I ponder if I will ever truly find joy in anything again? I wish I had enough money to just float, and search for what my purpose is, but unfortunately I am not able to do that. Sometimes I get so pissed at people who are financially independent  and are so ungrateful!  Athletes, movie stars, performers for example make more money in one month than I could spend in a life time!…..I am not feeling sorry for myself, It just infuriates me that someone else chose this life for me….I heard yesterday from someone again, there must be a reason for Morgans death….I am so F#$cking tired of peoples ignorance!!!  I wanted to take their head in my hands and shake it till it fell off and than say “Well there is a reason for this?”

Here is a reason my life is the way it is!!!  Two Kids  were given free will to be able to make stupid decisions, the parents involved were given free will to contribute and enable these two boys choices. The parents of some of the kids involved who were not in the accident were responsible for purchasing the alcohol for these delinquents to party. Honestly it would have been acceptable for this to happen, if  all the parents involved did not have their heads not up their asses and they made good choices to keep them home where they would not hurt anyone else or themselves.  So although the boys involved made dumb choices, their parents and the parents who bought the alcohol are the reason my daughter was murdered. These parents now can live with the fact that they murdered my daughter and caused the death of another…

So now, as they go about their merry way and continue the same patterns because they have obviously have not learned anything from their ignorance, I have to try to find a way to financially survive, while I am still in more pain than I ever imagined. I just for the life of me do not understand, why me and my family has to continually be punished for others choices. I hope for the strength to obtain this job tomorrow as well as keep on going with it…I am just struggling to find the power to be positive.

I tend to identify my feelings with music, because it reaches the deadness with in me, this song is how I feel and validates my writings today, some may say I need to move on, some may say I need to get over it but grief does not allow it to be so easy, I hope and pray that no one understands this despair, and for those that do. Keep on, Keeping on, you are maybe a select few but not alone, and my blog is for all of us.

It goes a little something like this

In my shoes my toes are busted,
My kitchen says my bread is molded,
I got a good job at the dollar store,
One foot in the hole, one foot gettin’ deeper,
with a broken mirror and a blown out speaker
And I ain’t got much else to lose.
I’m faded, flat busted;
I’ve been jaded I’ve been dusted.
I know that I’ve seen better days.
One foot in the hole, one foot gettin’ deeper,
Crank it to eleven, blow another speaker and
I ain’t got, I ain’t got much to loose
‘Cause

I’ve seen better days I’ve been star of many plays
I’ve seen better days and the bottom drops out.
I’ve seen better days I’ve been star of many plays
I’ve seen better days and the bottom drops out.

Now My cup’s filled up with five buck wine
I find myself here all the time
Another rip in the glass another chip in my tooth
Rained on I’ve been stained on
Found another goat I tried to put the blame on
And now I’m steppin on all the cracks
So I guess there ain’t no use
‘Cause

I’ve seen better days I’ve been star of many plays
I’ve seen better days and the bottom drops out.
I’ve seen better days I’ve been star of many plays
I’ve seen better days and the bottom drops out.

Woman: “Do you like my gucci bag?”

That’s beautiful, beautiful
Check it check it check it out,

I’m bent like glass second hand like glory,
Missed the bus but I’m in no hurry,
Molasses fast no business born,
One foot in the hole, one foot getting deeper,
Crank it to eleven, blow another speaker and
I aint got i aint got much to lose
‘Cause

I’ve seen better days I’ve been star of many plays
I’ve seen better days and the bottom drops out.
I’ve seen better days I’ve been star of many plays
I’ve seen better days,
I’ve seen better days,
I know that i’ve seen better days,
(the bottom drops out)
I’ve been the star, of so many plays,
(and the bottom drops out)
Walked on the edge with that hobo way.
(the bottom drops out)
‘Cause I know I know that I’ve seen better days
(and the bottom drops out)

Now I’m real thirsty…

(Sublime)