It Always Comes Back to This…Singing

I can always tell when I have anger issues that go unresolved.
The more of my anger I hold in the wider I become. I am not really overweight. I am stuffed with unhealthy anger. As I slide the shower door open a wave of deja vu sweeps over me. I imagine if only for the briefest of moments the scene before me will be as if I am Dorothy alighting from her house, planted into a world of color and beauty and uniqueness where all my dreams wait for me, along the brick road wanting to be discovered and fulfilled; but,it is just my bathroom no magic, no hope, no dreams. In my mind I can see when my view of myself changed. Where in the grand scheme I belonged. Where I changed and become small and scared. I withdrew into a safe place. This place has grown tight and stale. I need to let go of my childish fears and OZ and be the adult I know is there.

In the back of my mind it is 1976. I am 12, the magic of life waiting to unfold.
My mother gave me her stereo for my birthday. She must have loved me very much. She knew I loved to sing. She knew I had it in my heart to become the next Streisand. She loved my voice. I think it was her way of giving me her undying support. My father worked a long time to buy her that stereo. It was an Emerson. You could actually lock the turntable by lifting it into the cabinet between its two side mounted speakers.

I loved that thing. I wore it out. Blew the amplifier, wore the turntable down so it wouldn’t turn any more. I was heartbroken. With that stereo I taught myself how to breathe, to let the notes float out of my soul and over the space in front of me. Singing has always made me feel beautiful. A beauty no one can take or borrow or change. Music makes me feel unbroken.

I have never had a formal lesson. I hear the melody in my mind and I know if it is in the right key. I know if it is my range, if I have enough vocal reserve to hit the high notes. I fly when I sing soaring to heights no one but I can reach. My dreams waiting for me not to be afraid.

Dementia Days or Daze?

You tell me. I hate what this disease has turned me into. What it has turned my Pops into. The façade I put up for people keeps me safe; keeps them at arms length. I struggle everyday with the possibility that someone will find out I am a lie. I don’t have all of the answers. I am more lost than found. My heart torn into so many little pieces I am losing track of the last day I felt whole. I would walk away from my life if I knew it meant distancing myself from anymore sadness,pain and disappointment. But how do you walk away from those you love? What kind of a person would I be if I jumped ship just as soon as another deck hand was needed?

I skipped going to see Dad on Mother’s Day because I knew his nursing home would be overflowing with guilty children trying to cram a years worth of visits into that one special day. I went to see Dad this afternoon. I should have just stayed home. All the fresh laundry I brought to him on Saturday gone from his closet. I know things like this happen but everything? Really?

I can’t ask Dad what happened to his stuff. He doesn’t know. He exists in that world of zero accountability. I am just supposed to accept it, laugh it off and move on to the next topic. More often than not I feel frustrated after our visits. Like a carnival ride I can’t get off of.

We are a jigsaw puzzle with key pieces missing. We hold onto the box, our work in progress hoping that one day what is missing will be found. The problem? Dementia reshapes the pieces. The puzzle constantly changing. Only the edges are complete.

If I stopped going to see him would he even know? Could I live with myself? sleep at night? probably not.  I go for him as much as I go for myself. He is all I have left of the family I once knew.  In his smile I see the beauty of our family. It is there in his eyes I see the love he has for me. The trust he has given me. He believes in me. I used to look at him in that same way when I was a child.

For him I am brave. For him I try not to be lost. For him I would give all that I am.

I Will Love YOU to the Moon and Back

Inspiration comes from the oddest of places sometimes. A song I hear on the radio, silly things I see on the street as I drive by in my Jeep or a text from my SIL.

Today is a day of two events. The first is Mother’s Day which I am sad to say doesn’t apply to me. Mother’s Day is an event for me. I am sad in a place in my soul that will be forever sad. I never imagined as a little girl that there would be no children for me. I believed foolishly that motherhood was a given.

Barren is such a harsh word for a woman without children. Even deserts have life. Barren sounds like the Moon or some other planetary body devoid of all. I am not that.

Joseph, Kristopher, Courtney, Michaela and Nathan these are MINE. All the children that I love in so many and yet all the same reasons. The parents in their lives, let me be part of their growing up. I like to think that I left a spot on their hearts; that life is wonderful if you live it, that LOVE is the best thing you can ever have, that you just need one person in your corner who will always be there, that will always want the best for you.

Mother’s Day is an event for me because my mom passed away. I miss her.Days like today bring out my regrets of things unsaid, undone and left awry. Days like today make me feel that I am all alone in the world, but it is a lie. I have great people in my life that I love who love me.

The other event in my life today is my eighteenth wedding anniversary. Really? 18? Big D has stuck with me through it all. I tried to set him free after we learned of the “no children” ruling . He told me he loved me, had no intention of leaving. The thing is I never thought I would be that girl. That girl who lived happily ever after. Fairy Tale? There are days when I want to be free but that is me being selfish. I would be lost without Big D. I love him with my whole being, jerk that he is.