Category Archives: Sad and Blurry Days

IF Tears Could Talk

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IF Tears Could Talk

boy on violin w:dogs and cat

 

IF Tears Could Talk                                                                                              14,Avril 2012

I have been a single mother of a most precious boy, Dakoda, who is now almost 24 years old. Right or wrong, he has been my life. He is the biggest love I have ever encountered in life and he has brought me the most profound joys beyond my wildest imaginings.

As a young boy his pants were always falling down as he scampered around the world, trying to be so cool. He would rap to any, and everyone who would listen, which mostly happened to be at school, and he would always gather a crowd with his haughty innocence and raw dripping talents.

He always wanted to be in the wonderfully rhythmic black culture,even tho he was as white as the new fallen snow. He is music. He lives and breathes music. He always has and probably always will. He loved Skittles. He wrote the Skiddle Riddle song 11 years ago. You can hear his soprano voice before it dropped.

I don’t know what to say to you dearest Mother Sabrina. I think of you every day and I cry. I cry for Trayvon. I cry for you. I cry for your family. I cry for me, and I cry for my son. But for the grace of God go us…..

I don’t know how you are living thru this travesty of injustice…how you find the ways to console yourself, especially in the darkness and sometimes bleekness of night. I can only tell you I am with you. I am nestled in your pockets. I am walking down the lonely road of shattered broken pieces of your heart. I am picking them up for you every day and I am rocking them gently in my hands and with my thoughts of goodness for you and your family. I am white. You are not. We both have the same color blood. We both have the same bleeding hearts when tragedy strikes. I am you and I am with you. I know I can never be right in your shoes feeling what you are feeling, but I feel very strongly about sending you this song my son wrote years ago when he was a young boy. I hope it brings you some peace. I hope it brings some comfort to your fragile tears. I am usually a pretty good writer myself, but I am truely at a loss for words. I can tell you that I AM filled up with love for you and your son and your family, and I just somehow feel that Trayvon is in this song. I know he is with you now and will be forever. I wish there was more that I could do. I wish there was more that my tears could say, that would wash away the pain and agony of this.

I can send you love and I can send you peace and I can send you fortitude to trudge forward in the brave ways you are already doing…I will. I will treasure you for the bravery and strength you are giving us…the rest of the world who are dumbfounded that such a thing could happen in this world today. I will treasure you and your family forever. I truely will ….beautiful Sabrina.

Blessings and Love….A Broken Winged Angel from California…

No One Saved Me

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So I was watching a TV show in the middle of the afternoon, which I hardly ever do. I was looking over my Voice Over Auditions and they required a voice to sound like the Narrator on this  Particular Show, so I clicked on my new handy dandy Netflix Account and off I went. I thought I would be able to watch five minutes of the show and get the character down to do the Voice Over. I should know better. Anyone telling a good story….I’m a sucker for….for  life ….nevermind an episode’s worth of storytelling.  

All of a sudden I was ALL the Characters in this show. I was the girl who took away her friend’s Boyfriend in the heat of sexual passion. I was the caring boy watching from afar…never thinking I could have anybody, never mind, someone as gorgeous and popular as this girl had been…I was the gorgeous girl who KNEW she could have ANYBODY….but mostly….I was the young naive, beautiful angel girl that found herself in trouble and texted her brother for help, for she  found herself being sexually violated as I was those many a times…. because I trusted his charming words instead of his Piggish intentions.  

Then all of a sudden things became quite dramatic, and I found myself almost on top of the  screen of my computer in a rigid….can’t take my eyes away from the screen…terrorized anticipation. THe BROTHER!  THe brother came to the rescue!  He looked at his text from his sister….he was having the biggest dream night  date of his own with the gorgeous, popular, boarding school girl,….but he tore himself away….tore up the stairs looking wildly for his sister, with his date, who was the one that cheated on her best friend with her boyfriend.(turns out what really happened is they fell big time in love and she left their town and went to boarding school to punish herself…but that’s another story…). By this time my face was all but buried in my computer screen, and I was ELATED  and so relieved that the angel girl got SAVED!  And even Better…by her Brother! Mission Accomplished…. My pumping adrenalin found it’s way back into it’s snail shell. Then came the tears. 

No one saved me. I didn’t know how to save me.  Kiss and don’t tell. I didn’t tell. For a long time. About all the times.  I keep thinking they are gone….”those episodes…”  I wish someone saved me. I wish I could have saved myself. Maybe it’s not too late.

Red Snow

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I was cold, like chilled to the bone, all day today. Fair enough. It was a rainy cold day here in Paradise San Diego. Abit unusual for us Sun Worshippers. It turned out it was a VERY unusual day. I was just taking my Aussie for a brisk walk in the night, trying to shake off my desolate feelings of the day, and a teenager flew by us on a skate board with his rap music blaring, and I thought…”Good for you!” for fleeting by me with the Real YOU!  Expressing yourself! So important!  Seconds later another young lad came  rolling along, almost skipping across the pavement,  like the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland who always muttered…”Im late! I’m late! For a very important date! “…and yet his happy little words to me were “Merry Christmas”!  As I returned to our little village courtyard I saw the  twinkling lights of Christmas adorning many doorways and I heard the faint familiar sound of children laughing and for at least the twentieth time today I started to cry.

Life  to me today, felt like it should stop.  For me. For the world …For Everyone. Twenty Eight People were massacred today at an Elementary School In Snowy Connecticut. That was the last count that I heard.  The red blood cries of innocence,made their last  terrifying plea, screaming out wildly for their Mamas and Papas. No one could help them. It was too late.  The Families of Connecticut will no longer have a White Christmas this year. It is stained forever with the blood of their children. Their hopes and their dreams. The treasures of their lives were  Snatched and  Vanished  forever by senseless murder. It’s extra evil and chilling that it is Christmas time. It is an endless  torture, I cannot fathom.

When I first awakened, I had a feeling, as I sometimes do, that I needed to get some kind of  breaking news that was taking place. I always squirm with this knowingness and sometimes try to crouch away from the huge urgency I feel, but I always end up relinquishing my power and acquiescing to the invisible.  I never know what it is, but I usually know it is going to be disturbing, so I usually sigh before I find myself with the remote in my hand. But it is like the mind of writers, and actors, and painters….I have no choice…I must see. I must know. So on came the big screen of television. The big feeling in my stomach that started to arise in me as I watched and I listened to CNN, unfortuneately only grew worse as my day wobbled  on.

It started with one casualty and last count it was 28. Mostly children were 5 and 6  years young. First graders.  Hunted down with flying bullets and the darkest evil imaginable. We have had these mass killings in schools before. I remember the first time. Colombine. Even tho it happened in a state far away, I could not think about one other thing until I had my own son safe  at home in my arms again.

This horror  happened in Connecticut: The beautiful, SAFE, affluent, full of helping  community neighborhoods and old Yankee pride and constitution, Nevermind being known for having most of the best school systems in the nation.  The “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” kind of value systems is what we were all surrounded with in lovely, beautiful Connecticut. Family Oriented…..Full of Christmas, and all Holiday Celebrations, and old steadfast, great manners. This was and I thought, always would be,  my Connecticut. I never gave that a second thought. Nothing could take that away from me.   This was my home. This was where I grew up. My childhood memories of frolicking in the rolling hills, ice skating on all the ponds and lakes, listening to the frogs and crickets at night. Catching fire flies. This ….is life as a kid on the East Coast. Until today. Like 911 changed us all. Today will change everything.

Yes we need to look harder at gun control. Yes we need to see what really happens to brains when they have concussions, and accidents. Yes we need to get a hold on drugs and addiction  in our country. Yes we need to eat healthy food and not self medicate with alcohal and prescription drugs. But what about neglect?  What about denial? What about  covering up or delaying that uncomfortable conversation with your children…your teenagers?  What about being too busy making a living and struggling in this economy to really listen to what our children our troubled with? What happened to the value system and manners I grew up with?  What happened to catching fire flies with your kid?  It seems we cuddle and swoon over them as the adorable babies and toddlers that  they are and then the uncomfortable times come.

How do we handle the “uncomfortable?”  Do we live right next to that river in Egypt called “denial?”  What grade do we give ourselves as parents? Do our children feel completely SAFE and loved by us?  Can they really TALK and COMMUNICATE with us, or are we too busy?  Who was this 20 year old who blew himself and everyone else away?  Away to where by the way? Did we listen to his cries for help? Do we know the red flags?  Did he feel like he belonged? Did he feel heard and seen in a loving way by his Mom and Dad?

Where will these little Angel Children of the Morning, Go?  Where can I go to weep with them? I am so sad and forlorn. I am so angry. I don’t like it when tragedy happens and there is no understanding. There is no explanations. There is just unspeakable heartbrokeness. We are at war in our own country. Our children are killing children. My parents would be so heartbroken if they were still alive. What happened to us?