love

Raw & Real

SFoxWriting’s Alphabet Challenge ~ “R”

First and foremost, Happy International Day of Poetry! Also, happy 96th birthday to my Minga! She is my paternal grandmother. I couldn’t say “Grandma” when I was little; it came out “Minga”. My kids and I still call her that to this day. She is a remarkable woman.

While there is much to celebrate, it is bittersweet. Today is also the anniversary of my maternal grandfather’s passing. He was younger than my mother is now when he left this world. It was a life-changing event for many.

Days like today are exactly why I write. I’m jubilant. I want to celebrate. Not everyone my age still has a living grandmother. I have two, both of whom celebrate birthdays this month. They bring great happiness into this world. I am so fortunate. At the same time, I’m melancholy and filled with regret. While I have my grandmas, I don’t have my grandpas. I wasn’t as close to my maternal grandfather as I should have been. There are all sorts of reasons why, none of which are important to me now. I should have known him better. I should have visited more. Conversely, I was very close to my paternal grandfather. He was a character larger than life. He too would also have celebrated a birthday this month. My eyes well with tears as I type. I miss them both. Words, be they stories or poetry or simple ramblings, are therapeutic. It’s an incredible mechanism for dealing with such extreme conflicts of emotion.

On the day my grandfather passed 25 years ago, the words that helped me cope came in the form of poetry:
Dear Grandpa,
Just where do I start?
There are so many
Things in my heart.

I loved you so much,
I now miss you the same.
You had a special touch.
When I needed it, you came.

Why did I wait ‘til now –
Until it was too late,
To tell you how I feel,
To say “Grandpa, you’re great!”?

I am so sorry!
It just isn’t fair.
There was no warning
No time to tell you “I care”.

Everyone tells me,
“Be strong for your Mom”,
But who’s being strong for me
Now that you’re gone?

I loved you too.
I know I wasn’t the greatest,
But the words I say are true.

Grandpa, I miss you,
And I will always, always love you.

I know, it’s not exactly a masterpiece painted of words. However, it’s raw. It’s real. It’s a 15 year old kid figuring out how to deal with death for the first time. It’s something I last read years ago. It stirs up some powerful stuff even after all of this time. Mom, I’m sorry. I know this post will be tough for you.

On an unrelated note, but while I’m being real, there is one more quick thing… Yesterday I blogged my 50th post. It was a thrilling milestone. I don’t know if it was my excitement, if I rushed, if I was careless or lazy or what, but after my post had been published for several hours, I found a typo. I was mortified. Immediately I scrambled to correct it, but could only think of those who had already seen it. It gets better. Several more hours passed before another typo was brought to my attention – complete, total, utter humiliation (combined with extreme gratitude for the friend who pointed it out so I could fix it). I realize that everybody who read yesterday’s post, my 50th no less, saw my errors. I couldn’t just let that go. I had to say something. My readers, I apologize. I am sincerely sorry.

“You might not write well every day, but you can always edit a bad page. You can’t edit a blank page.” ~Jodi Picoult

Page Poetry

My second Alphabet Challenge inspired “P” post today! Granted Page Poetry is going to pale in comparison to Poe Poetry. However, given that my last name begins with the letter “P” and I write poetry, I couldn’t let Poe have all of the fun. Here are 4 short, individual pieces of Page Prose & Poetry:

Tell me that it is not
a figment of my imagination,
that it is more
than a fantasy.
If you cannot,
don’t wake me.
I rather like this dream.

**********

I long to be real.
I ache to be seen.
I wish to be more
Than trapped in your dream.

**********

Flicker of candlelight
In lovers eyes,
Glow of moonlight
On midnight skies,
Echo of starlight
On a placid sea,
You are the light
That illuminates me.

**********

A flower blooms.
A child cries.
A life is born
As an old man dies.
Life’s not given,
It is a loan.
It’s time we use
But never own.

If you missed my first “P” post from today, I featured my favorite poet/writer, Edgar Allan Poe. Check it out!

Kylie

The featured photo was taken of me and my daughter on the day she graduated from cosmetology school at just 18 years old.

On day 11 of the Alphabet Challenge, I celebrate my middle child, my only daughter, my favorite “K”, Kylie. Love you!

My little girl
With big blue eyes
That sparkle bright
Like summer skies.

Tiny princess,
Great big heart.
Meant for greatness
From the very start.

A scholar’s mind,
An artist’s soul,
A future within
Your own control.

You got this now
Do me proud.
Never stop living
Your life out loud!

Kylie has dreamed of a profession in cosmetology since she first picked up a brush. Immediately upon graduating high school at age 17, she began cosmetology school. She has been recognized for her achievements in make-up and hair on a national level. These are photographs of her early successes:

Make-up

Before/After

Follow Kylie’s career: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Kylie-Rose-Smith/435685946511365

Friends Are the Family You Choose

Day 6 of Steven Fox Writing’s Alphabet Challenge ~ The letter “F”. I dedicate this poem to the people that know how crazy I am and still choose to be seen with me in public.

I tell them my secrets
With nary a thought.
Every word spilled
Locked in their vault.

The times I gave up,
Laid down and cowered,
They hoisted me up,
Left me empowered.

They are my champions.
They know the real me.
They forgive me my faults
And love unconditionally.

They are my family,
We come in all hues.
The best of friends are
The family you choose.

The above picture was as close as I could get to having my closest friends in one photo. It is missing Michael, Terry, Lee & Julie. Love you guys!

Brian

Day 2 of Steven Fox’s Alphabet Challenge brings us to “B”.

I actually had a pretty great post idea for today. It was to be poetry and a short story rolled into one entertaining piece of creative writing. My blog is, after all, dedicated to creative writing. Thirty-something posts into this project and I have never blogged anything truly personal here. That realization prompted an even better post idea. The letter “B” is far too important to me, my work, my life, not to take a break and appreciate the reason I am here…

Meet Brian, my husband, my savior, my cheerleader, my support group, my proofreader, my everything. Brian is the most generous, trustworthy, compassionate, loving man I have ever known. Our marriage is the light that shines brightest in my life. So, love of my life, this post goes out to you…

Back. There’s another “B” word. In 2012 I suffered a pretty devastating back injury. For six weeks I couldn’t sit or walk, much less drive or cook. This was during the holidays. I couldn’t prepare Thanksgiving dinner. I couldn’t go Christmas shopping. During this same period of time, Brian was working on a rush contract, in addition to his regular full time work in the aerospace industry. Even so, every single day, he came home for lunch, he helped me shower, he made me food, and he drove me to my appointments (which lasted 2-3 hours each). No matter how late that meant he had to work into the evening, he was there, holding my hand, while I was strapped to a machine I believe was intended to draw and quarter me. When he finally did get to quit working for the day, there were holiday preparations to make, groceries to procure, and a house to clean. He did it all. He complained exactly never. Post-surgery my recovery would last six months. He never wavered. He never cracked.

Brandon. When I met Brian, I already had two kids from a previous marriage, Kylie & Steven, who were 4 and 6 at the time. Life wasn’t easy back then. Actually it was downright chaotic. He came in, he created stability, he loved my children as his own, and he earned the privilege of having them call him “Dad”. He’s a truly wonderful father. He helped me raise those rambunctious pre-schoolers and they became remarkable adults. I am so fortunate to get to continue watching his parenting at work with our son, another “B”, Brandon. That boy is an incredibly intelligent, sensitive, and funny kid. He takes after his father.

Blog. Without Brian, this blog would not exist. I wouldn’t be writing, I wouldn’t be blogging, I wouldn’t be toiling and submitting. I would be an overworked analyst and I would be hating every second of it. He has worked so hard to make it possible for me to dedicate myself to the pen. He gets up every morning and gets Brandon’s breakfast, scrapes ice and snow off the car, and drives carpool. He is out there every day providing for our family. He does this without sick days or snow days. I get to stay home, blog, work on my novel, write poetry… Brian even does the grocery shopping, if doing it myself would cause a break in the creative flow. He may not author this blog, but he certainly does everything else to make it possible.

Brian, I love you. I appreciate you. I recognize all that you do and the sacrifices you make. We truly are “The Awesomes”.