Dearest Da,

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9 years. As of the 14th, it's been nine years since you've gone off to that yet-to-be-definitively-named-or-even-proven-to-exist-place over yonder. Is it the beyond, da? Is there somewhere beyond where I am living and breathing? Are love and memories truly bridges that link the gulf that separates us? Or is there nothing?

Momma is doing well, da. She's back in school, slowly but surely taking steps toward the EdM she gave up on getting the moment she realized that life grew inside of her. My life. Did you ever feel guilty, da. as I sometimes do? Momma gave up her dreams and a career of her own to become your devoted wife and my loving momma. Oh, she has told me time and time again that her dream of being a mom--my mom--is far stronger and much more important than her dream of being a teacher. She did teach me well; I wouldn't have been the successful young woman I am today without her by my side. But still...I feel sad whenever I think about all those lost years and missed opportunities. 

I think I understand you now, da. It's weird how it is in retrospect that I see who you are with clarity. When you didn't shower me with hugs and kisses as a child (like mom did, and still does) or show me much affection, it wasn't because you didn't love me; it was because you never really knew how. But you tried, da. I see that not. You may not have always said "I love you," but you expressed it in your own way. It was in the way you preferred to tell me non-Disney bedtime versions of fairy tales over the phone; you wanted me to know different sides to every story, and to search for my own truth. Your love was in the way you insisted that I take martial arts classes instead of the voice lessons momma wanted. It wasn't because you wanted me to be the son you always wanted but momma never gave birth to; it was because you wanted me to be able to protect myself in times when you could not.

Once in a while I go over your old letters and your old Filofax. The pages are dog-eared, tear-stained, and some are yellowed with age. Ink's faded on some passages, and it's difficult to figure out if you went to visit Dr.  Shen for an EKG or if you kicked the shin of some dude named EG. But no matter. I've memorized your words and held them close.

You've been gone for about a third of my life and you've missed well over half of my life because, well, the Constitution and safety of our country had to come first. But in some ways, those lost years don't matter anymore. I love you, da, and because love is alive, you've grown and changed with me through the years even if you'll always be on the edge of 64 and 2002.

I'll be seeing you again, da. And when I come rushing into your arms, I will once again be that pudgy, pig-tailed little girl with the lacy dress and binoculars, demanding, "Spin me again, daddy! Spin me again!" Someday, I'll dance with you again. 

Quote of the Week

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"The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It's the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared."

 -- Lois Lowry

New Set-Up: Personal Filofax Finsbury in Red

After a couple of weeks of using my personal Filofax Osterley in Wine (as the colour is called here in the States), I've come to the decision that as beautiful as she is and as much as I love her, Ms. Luxurious Crocodile-Embossed Leather just does not fit my current on-the-go lifestyle. Even if I put her inside a dust bag before putting her inside my bag, I am still so paranoid about getting any scratches on her. And then there was that time when I used an anti-bacterial gel. I thought my hands were dry, but when I opened the organizer, a wee part of the leather became discoloured :o(

I'm now using a personal Finsbury in red and if you can believe it, is actually a simpler, slimmed down version of my usual ;o) Just one ruler, one business/credit card holder, no dpp. It also functions as a wallet...Heaven help me. Eventually I will do a major overhaul, but for now, this system works.

I will write more detailed posts later, but for now, here are some  (low-res camera phone) photos:

 

30 Day Challenge, Day 5: A picture of somewhere you've been to

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ISCHIA, ITALY

30 Day Challenge, Day 3: A photo of you and your friends

Spring 2009. L-R: Mischief (a.k.a. R), me and my BFF Bliss (a.k.a. J).

"For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?" (Rumi)

Dearest Da,


I don't remember the sound of your voice anymore, but I've never forgotten your words: "Chin up, darlin'."

Aloha au ia 'oe.








Time, is going by, so much faster than I
And I'm starting to regret not spending all of here with you
Now I'm wondering why I've kept this bottled inside
So I'm starting to regret not selling all of it to you
So if I haven't yet, I've gotta let you know

You're never gonna be alone from this moment on
If you ever feel like letting go, I won't let you fall
You're never gonna be alone, I'll hold you 'til the hurt is gone

And now, as long as I can, I'm holding on with both hands
'Cause forever I believe
That there's nothing I could need but you
So if I haven't yet, I've gotta let you know

You're never gonna be alone from this moment on
If you ever feel like letting go, I won't let you fall
When all hope is gone, I know that you can carry on
We're gonna see the world out, I'll hold you 'til the hurt is gone

Oh, you've gotta live every single day
Like it's the only one, what if tomorrow never comes?
Don't let it slip away, could be our only one
You know it's only just begun, every single day
Maybe our only one, what if tomorrow never comes?
Tomorrow never comes

Time is going by so much faster than I
And I'm starting to regret not telling all of this to you

You're never gonna be alone from this moment on
If you ever feel like letting go, I won't let you fall
When all hope is gone, I know that you can carry on
We're gonna see the world out, I'll hold you 'til the hurt is gone

I'm gonna be there always
I won't be missing a word all day
I'm gonna be there always
I won't be missing a word all day

Quote of the Week

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“Forgiving does not erase the bitter past. A healed memory is not a deleted memory. Instead, forgiving what we cannot forget creates a new way to remember. We change the memory of our past into a hope for our future.”

--Lewis B. Smedes 

Quote of the Week

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All water has a perfect memory and is forever trying to get back to where it was. 

--Toni Morrison 

Neden?

I still miss her. And to this day, I'm still not quite sure why she's no longer in our lives.

[redacted]  to J, me

show details 10/31/07

For you loves of my life.


Time passes
Life happens.
Distance separates.
Children grow up.
Jobs come and go.
Love waxes and wanes.
Men don't do what they're supposed to do .
Hearts break.
Parents die.
Colleagues forget favors.
Careers end.
BUT.........

Sisters are there, no matter how much time and how many miles are between you. A girl friend is never farther away than needing her can reach.

When you have to walk that lonesome valley and you have to walk it by yourself, the women in your life will be on the valley's rim, cheering you on, praying for you, pulling for you, intervening on your behalf, and waiting with open arms at the valley's end.

Sometimes, they will even break the rules and walk beside you...Or come in and ca rry yo u out.

Girlfriends, daughters, granddaughters, daughters-in-law, sisters, sisters-in-law, Mothers, Grandmothers, aunties, nieces, cousins, and extended family, all bless our life!

The world wouldn't be the same without women, and neither would I. When we began this adventure called womanhood, we had no idea of the incredible joys or sorrows that lay ahead. Nor did we know how much we would need each other.

Every day, we need each other still. Pass this on to all the women who help make your life meaningful. I just did. Short and very sweet:

There are more than twenty angels in this world.  Ten are peacefully sleeping on clouds. Nine are playing. And one is reading her email at this moment.

Send this message to ten of your friends including me. If you get 5 replies, someone you love will surprise you.

Happy days!

Don't break this; it's working!

Post Secret Sunday: Knowing

Source

While my momma began and ended each day with an "I love you, baby!" punctuated with hugs and kisses, proof of my da's love came in the form of books, magazines, and puzzles. He worked for the government and was away for most of the year. He always began his letters with "My Darling Wife and Daughter" and signed off with "All My Love, Ronald" but other than that, "I love you" didn't flow easily from his lips. Growing up, I felt like being a husband and father were second only to his love for the United States.

Oh, I knew he loved us. I could feel it deep down. But when you're a kid who's constantly teased about "not really having a dad," every missed birthday and forgotten holiday begin to pile up as evidence that the love set aside for you isn't enough.

After my da's funeral, a friend of his from work walked up to me and told me how much I looked like my da, but with my mom's darker eyes. He said that my da was always talking about me, about how proud he was that even as a young girl, I showed strong convictions. "Nobody's robot," he said. "My daughter will bow down to no man!"

Da's friend began to walk away, but stopped to say, "I'm honoured to have seen you grow up in pictures and photos." He must've seen the confused look on my face because he explained, "Ron's desk was filled with pictures of you growing up. He even framed some of your letters, little poems, and drawings, and put them on the wall."

I never knew he did that. Never knew he kept my scribbles and finger painting experiments.

But now I know.

I know just how much he loved me in his own way.  

Langston Hughes, "Harlem (A Dream Deferred)

Source

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load. Or does it explode?

Quote of the Week

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Everyone has a photographic memory. Some don't have film.

--Oscar Wilde 

Quote of the Week

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For the sense of smell, almost more than any other, has the power to recall memories and it is a pity that you use it so little.

--Rachel Carson 

Quote of the Week

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“Memory is a way of holding on to the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.”

--Kevin Arnold, The Wonder Years 

Glitter in the Air, P!nk

Have you ever fed a lover with just your hands?
Close your eyes and trust it, just trust it
Have you ever thrown a fist full of glitter in the air?
Have you ever looked fear in the face
And said I just don't care?

It's only half past the point of no return
The tip of the iceberg, the sun before the burn
The thunder before lightning, the breath before the phrase
Have you ever felt this way?

Have you ever hated yourself for staring at the phone?
Your whole life waiting on the ring to prove you're not alone
Have you ever been touched so gently you had to cry?
Have you ever invited a stranger to come inside?

It's only half past the point of oblivion
The hourglass on the table, the walk before the run
The breath before the kiss and the fear before the flames
Have you ever felt this way?

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la

There you are, sitting in the garden
Clutching my coffee, calling me sugar
You called me sugar

Have you ever wished for an endless night?
Lassoed the moon and the stars and pulled that rope tight
Have you ever held your breath and asked yourself
Will it ever get better than tonight? 
Tonight

Sometimes...

...we are so busy gazing out into the horizon, intent on discovering and exploring what more the world has to offer, that we end up not seeing what's in front of us.

Finding Andromache

Leaving the familiar to go into the unknown is as alluring as it is daunting. The thought of my loved ones not being a short train or plane ride away scares the shit out of me. Alone at bed at night, sometimes I am filled with doubt and am convinced I should stay in the U.S. and "settle down". After all, I have opportunities here that a lot of people could only dream about. American Privilege. Sometimes I start to believe other people who say that I am a smart woman who has made a foolish decision to move to Turkey for an indeterminate amount of time for no reason other than answering "a call from deep within". It is an adventure, but an uncertainty nonetheless. 

And yet despite these doubts and looks of disappointment, I cannot give in to fear and doubts. I can no longer continually try to fulfill expectations that people have of how I should be. I cannot fall into the trap of complacency and safety. I need to let go…have and want to let go of these safety nets that weigh down my wings. I need to fall—or at the very least experience the sensations of falling—so that I can pull myself up and fly. I need to live and not just go through the motions of living. I need to live for myself instead of be a vessel for other people to live out their dreams. I have to make my own mistakes and not spend a lifetime trying to avoid making the mistakes that others have…mistakes that have defined them into the people that they are now. This lifetime is short enough to spend it worrying about reliving other people’s past, and it is long enough to spend it defined by regrets.

At times I feel like I’m too old for this “finding myself” bit; after all, I did it for a couple of years after high school. But logically, I know that it cannot be true, for since the dawn of time, people have struggled to find themselves. Some have spent a lifetime doing so. Age is irrelevant, as “self” itself doesn’t truly age. 

The hardest part about trying to live up to legacies is that in so doing, you could easily lose track of who you are. To follow in other people’s footsteps more often than not entails setting aside your wants until you just wake up one day and realize that you don’t know what you want. You’ve felt it for so long that somehow, you now believe that your wants have ceased to matter. 

Who am I without my so-called intelligence? Would I still be me? Would I be less of myself had I been more acquainted with the letter grade C than A? Would I still be the golden (grand)child had I chosen writing over game theory, and creativity over pragmatism? What if I believed in kindness and in humanity more than I do in prestige and profits? 

Maybe at the end of this journey and adventure, I'll come back to where it all began. Maybe I already have whatever it is I'm searching for--whatever I feel is missing in my life but have yet to be able to name. Or maybe, just maybe, whatever I'm looking for is on the other side of the world...waiting to be explored. Perhaps in searching for Hector, I'll end up finding Andromache. 

So I'll keep walking, no matter how hesitant my steps. No matter how many times I falter or fall, I will get up and keep walking. I can feel the sun even as I feel uncertainty. I just gotta keep facing forward. 

Dear Daddy,

               We met again in my dreams not so long ago, where enticingly the constrictive bonds of reality and time are broken. Sometimes I wish I could live the rest of my life in the borderlands of wakefulness and dreams, if only to have you near.  To constantly feel your presence, not in fleeting bursts. 

     I keep searching for you, da. These past few years it feels like I've been retracing your footsteps, stubbornly chasing rapidly fading footfalls. Praying, begging to please let me see you where you last stood when you were whole. Before that cursed aneurysm led to a stroke, which in turn began a slow decay 18 months in the making. You, my Hawaiian Superman, lay immobile as your body betrayed you and turned into Kryptonite. 

     Almost 8 years ago, I told you it was okay to let go. And so you flew. You were free. 

     But I have not let go, da. Where do I begin? Grief's paths have so many twists and turns, and I am still lost. Standing in the middle of nowhere. The roads before and beyond are daunting, and I cannot trust my own hesitant steps. My feet are much too small to walk surely into the forest that I know holds promises of new beginnings. 

     I'm scared to let go.