Samuel..

Today I exist along side my husband in our own dimension, I have days like this. Of course I know in the "real" world he is not physically here, I am not insane.
Yet, I will tell you he is with me..I feel him. He watched over a little boy as he went through heart surgery today, a little boy that had things gone differently may not be with us today. My husbands role in the after life is again seemingly one of service, Divine as it ever was and more so. I do not mean to imply that Bobby is the reason Samuel is recovering even for a second. What I am saying is I am happy he was watching over him.

Since my brush with death in 06, I often know more than I care to sometimes and yet with my husband as my eternal partner..it is a less lonely path. Long before I knew this child was having surgery or even that he had a medical issue I knew of this day, today..surgery day.

God bless his parents for opting with the "big city hospital". I rejoice inside for this beautiful family.

In regards to Bobby, getting past the lack of physical presence is something I struggle with wildly at times...I am a hardheaded Irish girl as my husband used to call me.
I have had moments lately where the anguish swallows me whole..I seemingly stop existing.

All I know to do is pray and to focus on my child, she is what takes precedence over all else. Some weeks I get some things done, last week I accomplished a few things, important things. This week will be a challenge, I will call on the Lord and all my angels for the strength to do what I need to do to make Christmas a joyous occasion for all that are present.  Four of my children can not be home, it is hard to feel joy without the bittersweet aftertaste being apart during Christmas.
Learning to appreciate those moments that light our souls is everything, it's the best there is.

My heart sings for Samuel.

We all bleed together

What a dark day in America it is...any semblance of "safety" became an illusion yet again..

The Country has been violated in the worst way, through our children. We are left angry and sad and beyond frustrated at the harsh and rabid insanity of it all. Our sense of security shattered.

This was in fact an act of terror...this person was pure evil, surely only evil would commit such a heinous act. I cry for "HUMANITY" this evening and my soul bleeds once again..
May God bless us all..

Of Leaky eyes

Yes, my eyes have been leaking more than usual..I am actually crying. Instead of retreating as usual to the safer landscapes of cleaning incessantly or washing every last piece of even questionable laundry.. I am allowing the rain to come, the storm to rage.. 
I am astonished that my howl so resembles that of a desperate cry from a wolf in the badlands. I frightened myself initially with this foreign wail...

 How I relate to you sad yet mighty beast..how my heart feels your pain

Right now the form taken by my grief is beyond my control...this primal place where I had stashed the unimaginable reality of my husbands death is breaking wide open and screaming for release, I am powerless to hold it back.

My Lord has promised not to forsake me, my Faith is in him.

Still, heavy Air and other such fuckery..

Here by the ocean when there is no surf to speak of it is an eerie place indeed.  Today as I look out from my writing perch safe in my place of hiding, I wonder WHAT it is about my broken mind that insists on washing everything so damn heavily in melancholy.

I  started "grief therapy" yesterday and that same sad part of me wonders if I will lose all traces of my beloved husband as I submit to this grueling process of excavation. The thought makes me feel sick way down deep in the pit of my stomach.  Every one of my senses  in a state of alarm, they are all clinging and savagly screaming.."I won't let you take him from me."
Having had the realization that living half in this world and half in one where I have yet to be invited is not true living forces me to move forward..towards TRUTH. If nothing else I am always in pursuit of my truths, truth and love are the things that have always spoken to my soul, the things that so often kept me alive. I have never had qualms as a writer about sharing the deepest and the darkest in the hopes that it has all happened for a reason. I have always had the desire to share, to throw a voice out into the wilderness...a voice that says..."I am here, it's okay..we can survive the utmost pain" I offer myself up as proof.  

 Coming up on two years since Bobby's death I am starting to accept he isn't coming back to get me. 

It is a beginning..

Footnote: sorry for the occasional pottymouth ; (

From our northwest facing porch on our island..there was a serious storm blowing in and we were energized by it...

The former U.S Coast Guard Station is seen through our weather charm.  I smell and feel this picture, it is glorious..

How I miss the sound of the screen door as it bangs shut...

March 12th, 2010..

Being loved by someone deeply gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.

Lao Tzu~

Just how broken...?

Since my husband's passing my uniform of the day has been the same blue flannel shirt he wore often at our seaside hide-away, that cozy little island that we considered ours alone from the confines of our well weathered walls and the beaches that surrounded us. I would stumble through the beach shrubbery at night to get out to where I knew the magic was waiting, it called to me that beautiful ethereal almost stinging call....snapping away with my camera I would capture as much of it as I could for him then bring it on home. it was a ritual. I LOVED doing it during the storms but poor Bobby would get nervous..he'd say 'You be CAREFUL baby" and mutter under his breath...I can still see him shaking his head as he tried to hide a grin. SUCH love in his expression for me, always..My heart aches and leaps at the same time as I allow the memories to surface and he guides my fingers on the keyboard...I know any time he looked in my eyes he got that some love, that same joy as it mirrored it's way back to him.  We would look at the pictures together later and he'd smile and hug me..he WAS love..he just was. He thought I had a good eye he told me and like  a child I would beam as he said "they're getting better"...nearly 90 % of my picttures have been taken now since after his passing. Such an odd way of measuring time yet it is my way of measuring time now...BEFORE Bobby died and after Bobby died. Much of me died with Bobby that cold March day.

I found a sweater over the weekend that has transformed me into a serious writer, it is a long wool and cashmere Eileen Fisher fit to be a writer's Sweater and it took to me...so here I sit a ramblin'

My husband wants me to get back to work..back to myself and he will not relent

I received a beautiful call the other day, it's affects still imprinted on my heart and ringing pleasantly through my mind..thank you Ms. Hattah, you helped get this writer's blood moving as you brought me news from my husband.
 As a writer yourself you KNOW I have been dying a slow death having this imposed silence.  

I had been asking for Bobby, begging really...we were "stuck" for nearly a month and it was weighing heavy on my heart. 

My husband is so powerful even in death. Anyone that he loved can most likely recount their own story since his passing, if they are of the ilk that allows themselves that raw experience of even a touch of communication from someone in Spirit. 

Someone asked me "how do you know it's real?" You know because it IS real. Very simple.



We were both loners at our core Bobby and I yet in each other we found and got down to the serious business of solace in each others arms.

Nothing short of Storybook magic our journey..

When Bobby and I met again after 28 years of our own individual paths well worn.. it was the stuff dreams are made of. We had a few self indulgent talks of "what if"..in the beginning of his illness and then again at the end. 
Yet somehow nearly every minute of our lives together was spent mindful and IN the moment. Up until Bobby this was something I had great difficulty with, staying in my moments. No longer. He was truly my twin soul, my home. Never by the way have I laughed as much as I did with him..oh did we have fun.

The true beginning of our reunion after 28 years will wait. I must digest that I sit here now with determination and even a small degree of ease and am able to refer to myself as a Writer once again.

To be continued..Peace, Love & Light to all

S.S.H ; )