A beautiful life – loss, pain, guilt, hurt and…love…

I had this dream on the night of the 25th and I wrote it down as maybe it will touch your heart, as it touched mine.

I had a dream last night. I dreamt about mom. In the past twenty years that might have happened a total of five times that I can recollect.

When I came home last night and looked myself in the mirror I thought of how different me and my sister look. My sister is very pretty, but also a split mirror image of mom. The thought that crept into my mind is that my sister looks so much like mom, yet she’s more beautiful to my mind. She’s stunning, whereas in photos mom doesn’t look stunning. And this baffles me

After brushing my teeth and jumping in bed I fell asleep, but woke up this morning with a start. I dreamt I was at grandma’s (mom’s side), as I normally would on the 25th of December, my old relatives once again alive. My former step-mom was there and she fluctuated between nice and nasty, as was her habit. And in the middle of it all it was clear that mom was coming home. She had left, in my dream, fifteen years ago and was now coming back. I was angry with her. I was furious. I didn’t want her back. And in my dream I could see her face once more, see she was young and beautiful. Then I was taking care of gran who was becoming senile and then I woke up, startled, a wave of memories coming over me.

My first immediate source of pain was the thought of grandma turning senile – I already lost my other gran to senility and that was a painful journey, although it taught me a lot about love. About the love you feel for a person, which propels you to look after them even when they are not reachable, or you are taking them to the bathroom, because they no longer know how to go on their own. That’s how I want to be loved by my future husband. People are scared of getting old and ugly, but there is nothing ugly if there is love because love is in the heart. Not in wrinkles, or the ability to move with grace.

The second thought was that it was odd to dream about my old step-mom and at first I didn’t even want to think about that aspect of the dream. Both my gran and my mom might have stirred up heavy emotions, but I have a connection with them. With her…no. I don’t know how to describe her. She was the kind of person that would win people over when she first met them by being over the top friendly and ingratiating, but when the party was over she’d often be nasty. I hated her guts at the same time as I had some lingering hope that one day she would just love me and start being nice to me and my sister. Treat us like she did her own children, but this never happened – instead she continued to humiliate me in front of friends by treating me like garbage, yet at the same time trying to act as some kind of mother. This woman hugged me, drove me to school, arranged my birthday parties and ever so often even had a good chat with me and still no one I knew ever liked her. Underneath kind actions there was always the impression she was jealous of me and wanted to put me down.

When dad broke it off with her I was still in touch with her for a very short while, after all she had been my so-called family for about ten years, and I gave her a book about love for Christmas, as I hoped it would give her some hints. This misfired as she was overjoyed thinking I knew her so well and she was all about love. During that conversation with her I also learnt that she thought dad never cared about her, she was the loving one who was mistreated. And that’s when I realized just how lost she was and the kind of things she created in order to fulfill her own ideas about life. I had felt sorry for her for a long time, but then I truly got the extent of her inner pain – she had no sense of self-love, self-worth. And all her drama was simply a way of putting others down to make them feel like her, or provoke them to treat her badly.

Thinking about my step-mom has always come with guilt, because as much as I knew I should forgive her and use love to heal, I don’t like her. She ruined ten years of my family’s life. Having this dream I realized it’s OK – I don’t have to like her. All I have to do is love the little girl inside her heart, who somehow became heartbroken and created a life of misery for herself. When I’m detached from her, looking at her life from the outside I feel a lot of sympathy for her. She’s lived through hell and all thanks to her own creation.

Then there was mom. Mom was the big thing for me in that dream.

I was angry with mom when she died, because she never told me she loved me beforehand. She also refused hugging me the last time I saw her, as she was in pain, but she hugged my sister. I grew up looking for notes from mom saying she loved, some sort of proof…but I never found one.

After mom died I felt there was a gaping hole of pain inside of me from the loss, an emptiness that couldn’t be filled. At the same time I couldn’t remember mom being playful. She taught me everything and looked after me, but dad was the person I played with. I couldn’t remember her smiling. So I felt guilty for not feeling I had a true bond with her.

Out of principle I refused having anyone take mom’s place, but I desperately longed for a mother. I wanted mom back but at some point I realized I wanted a mother, more than I wanted my own mother, because I couldn’t remember her anymore. Yet, I felt that if someone ever tried being my mother it wouldn’t work, because I became too independent.

There was so much guilt and fear about not loving my mother, coupled with anger at her never having told me she loved me. At the same time there was the pain of loss and a strong fear of losing someone else I loved. I was longing to be more loved whilst simultaneously shutting out anyone who tried, whether from fear of them taking mom’s place, losing them, or thinking they were faking it as no one surely truly loved me. The emotions were all mixed up and I could never understand them.

The thing with the dream is it showed one side of those emotions – the anger of feeling abandoned, which then leads to feelings of guilt as surely mom couldn’t help going dying, nor being high on morphine and dazed by pain the last time she saw me. In the past I would have tried to sort it all out. What all those emotions meant, so that I could get rid of the guilt and the pain of loss. The truth is all my emotions came from different events and what I made up about them, so they were all real to me at the same time as none of them were ever real because had I known the absolute truth I would probably have felt a lot different. But it’s OK – I will always have the memory of the emotions I had and I don’t have to sort them out. Just like I don’t have to love my step-mom for how she treated me. There’s those emotions, but above and beyond them there’s love. 

We all have instant reactions to events, to people and we probably all have some emotional garbage from the past. It’s OK. You don’t have to sort it all out and solve it like a murder mystery. You can accept it and then just simply choose to live in love in the moment.

I can’t really explain it but that dream just made me come to terms with things. I can see I have had many emotions, thoughts and feelings around the different women in my life and the love I have wanted, lacked, received and feared to lose. I can see all that and acknowledge it, but I’m a woman now. My childhood is a memory. I can look upon it with love for what it taught me. It used to make me cringe badly, because there were messy events I was ashamed of and my own interpretation of reality that I was ashamed of. I was psychologically damaged for years. My self-worth was about as high as your average ant hill as opposed to Mount Everest. Or in other words: I didn’t feel good inside and I was ashamed of my own depression. I’ve let myself and others walk all over me in more ways than one. But it’s gone. Over. I feel love inside of myself now. I feel like in the last few weeks I’ve risen above whom I used to be. I feel like I’ve grown up. But the memory of childhood and what I went through as a consequence of it makes me feel a lot of sympathy towards others. I can understand where the mind can take you. I work with rehabilitating people because I believe it’s possible. I don’t think the shame, or pain of your past should have to dictate your future. 

Life happens and we respond to it before we learn to raise above it and pave out our own chosen path. It’s taken me 30 years to be anywhere close to that and on a bad day I will still feel ashamed of myself, depressed and lonely, but I can accept myself and love myself for that today. I never have before – I would just pretend to be cool about it all and feel terribly ashamed if anyone sense I was feeling down, or insecure (as feeling down, or being insecure was a proof of failure – I hadn’t made myself confident and happy yet). And I’m proud of myself. I’ve come a long, long way. I want to share that in metaphors and stories, to show that even if you were born in a cold, dark place and learnt to see life as grim and harsh, there’s a different reality. You can’t avoid pain in life. It will happen. But it’s not the only thing that will happen. And there are choices you can make that will make your life brighter and more beautiful. 

It’s like this: in London I lived a miserable reality as I was in a place I disliked, doing something I disliked. Now I live in a place I love, doing a lot more of what I love. I will still suffer loss and pain, but there will always be more love to come. You will heal and move on towards more love. That’s what I call a beautiful life.  

Every day is a chance to start all over and with a little love it’s possible…

 

Naked…but there are still words, still scars that linger on my body…

I watched The Descendants the other night, you know it reminded me so much about my own family I burst out crying. Well, not at the movies, but when I got home. Mom died too. Not like that, but the hospital bed and the yellow face were pretty much the same. The pain, the confusion, the guilt, the desperation…it was all there. No, mom didn’t cheat on dad. They were together since she was sixteen. Eighteen years. And no, I wasn’t seventeen at the time, I was six, my sister one.

Love. After mom died, I somehow thought she didn’t love me. Mothers sit you down to tell you that, before they die, right? Or they write you a letter. They say something. They don’t just die and refuse hugging you the last time they see you, because they are in pain and high on morphine. They just don’t…that’s not what it’s like in the stories you hear. You think you are a burden on your family as they have to do all these extra things. As there is no mother and everyone else is trying to make up for it. Everyone’s stressed. You’re to blame, not to love.

Guilt. You laughed at her for peeing in her pants when she was sick as you panicked, then you laughed three days after she died and a friend pointed out they’d never laugh again if their mother died and then slowly, you started forgetting her and you felt like you were committing a crime for moving on, for wanting love from elsewhere. You felt guilt for not having felt close enough to her when she was alive. For being daddy’s little girl.

The sadness. The knowing of how cruel life can be. You aren’t really spiritually switched on age six, thinking everything is a circle, we are all connected and love is all there is. You just see everyone around you breaking down and talking about unfairness and cruelty. So you get scared of life. You have this sensation of a gaping hole inside, a place no one can ever fill. She’s gone. Never coming back. You look around you. You see the beauty. A lot of beauty, but you feel pain. You live in a glass cube. There’s life outside, but you’re just watching. You’re numb. You’re not, but somehow you are. You closed out love.

Being at loss. There is no mother. No woman looking after you. You are now different. Everyone looks at you differently. No one knows what to say when they find out. Everyone else talks of their mothers. Of having someone fussing over them and being overprotective. You don’t know what to say. Daddy doesn’t do that. You bring your grandparents to school events. You’re weird. You feel like part of you is lacking. Like you can never be like them.

The anger. You are angry that she left you, that she never said she loved you that you can remember, that your dad isn’t a mother too and that no one understands you because they don’t have a gaping hole inside. You argue with your dad for not being everything, for not knowing, for not understanding, for not getting what it’s like being you. You feel unloved and angry.

The loneliness. You were alone, in bed, when she was dying. You faced it alone, scared. Since then, you were alone. No one else is like you. You miss her. You miss a mother. You have that hole inside and nothing cures it. If you drink hot things you stop crying, but nothing cures the hole. It’s there. You feel otherworldly somehow. Like you aren’t connected to life. You become a spectator. When boys get close you run. You cry if they get too close. You want to trust someone. You want to feel whole again. You want to let someone inside, but you never do. You want someone else to break the vow for you. The vow that no one would take her place. You want someone to break into you.

The confusion. No one knows how to deal with it. Everyone makes it up as they go along. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

Then arrives the step-family and the bullies and you get even angrier and sadder and lonelier. You fear people. You think you stink. There’s something wrong with you. Then comes the depression, the sadness, the fear and the loneliness all over again.

When I watched that movie, I realized it’s OK. It’s OK that no one knew what to do. It’s OK that we all argued. It’s OK that I wasn’t raised perfectly. It’s OK that we made mistakes. It’s OK because we loved each other. There was always love. I might have gotten it all wrong as a child and taken it all out as a teenager, but there was always love. A lot of love. I can forgive, because I know. I can be forgiven, because I was at loss.

It’s OK that I broke down, not once, but twice in my life. It’s OK, because I got a lot of things wrong in my childhood. I felt a lot of pain, because I didn’t see the love.

It’s OK. It’s all OK.

It’s OK to be me. I faced some shit, I grew. I hit some walls, I learnt.

It’s OK not to have all the answers. God knows I’ve fought for them. Hard. I sought an answer, a solution, a way out of the pain and depression. I fought so hard, for perfection. For pretending to be whole. For pretending I had no scars. For pretending I wasn’t scared.

I never became perfect. I still feel the pain sometimes. A lot of it. It still makes me feel lonely, sad, depressed and ashamed. Yet, it’s nothing like what it used to be, because I did find love. Inside. The gaping hole isn’t so gaping anymore. The problem called Maria isn’t so problematic anymore. She doesn’t hate herself that much anymore. Love. It’s really that easy and hard, if you don’t get it. Love. Fill yourself with that. It’s the best medicine you’ll ever find.

If you are still in that broken-hearted mess where you understand nothing, least yourself…fuck the problems. Just love for a while and see what happens. It’s truly magical. And sometimes, sometimes the why’s and the when’s and the what have you’s…they don’t matter anymore.

If you watch that movie you will see that they aren’t perfect either. They haven’t got it all figured out. So long as you seek and you love though, that’s it. It shows how much you care. Seek for the best way of living and love unconditionally and forever. Between the two you are doing a damn good job.

I didn’t find this post easy to write. It’s the kinda shit you don’t say, because you know it’s not how things have to be. They could be all joy, but they weren’t. It’s part of me though. It’s who I was. It’s not easy, but that’s OK. There are days when I blog about all the joys of my life, but that’s not today, because my hope is that if anyone ever finds themselves where I was and sometimes still am, maybe this will help. You’re not alone. I hope you find love. You do deserve it, I promise.

If you lose someone, there will be pain, but if you remain open, there will be love. Always.

Lovemaking should truly burn like chili in your heart…anything less and you aren’t living…

My whole life I’ve tried to be strong, which makes you weak. When you are weak and realize your strength, is when true power rules. All you have to do is relax and allow your natural strength to glow.

It was a beautiful morning – the sun was shining, I had my lunch packed, I was on time, I was wearing nice clothes. I was tired, as October was a long month, but I was calm, smiling with the rays of the sun. On the first bus I was sitting down, thinking about blog posts, not quite finding a topic worth blogging about. The second bus was too full for me to sit, so I stood. The bus driver started the bus as people were still finding their spots and then hit the brakes. I thought some unkind thoughts about London bus drivers. Then he started off again and 30 seconds later, or so, hit the brakes full on, resulting in kids and some adults flying out of their seats and pretty much everyone standing up falling over, landing on top of each other, faces smeared with panic. I could feel the pressure of moving bodies against me and my only thoughts were that I had to remain standing, but knowing if the pressure would intensify, I would fall and this could be the end – I didn’t yet know if we were going to crash into something.

Somehow I didn’t fall and we didn’t crash into anything else. I became aware that I had injured my arm, but not badly. People were helping each other up, limping, kids were crying, someone upstairs was bleeding, I was trying to get out-of-the-way to give people space to stand up. The bus driver, didn’t get out of his seat. When he saw that most people were upright again, he just drove. As he started driving again and mothers were complaining and mumbling to their kids to be brave, I felt tears welling up inside.

This month I’ve had two friends being diagnosed with various things and due to work being hectic I have just kept running, being stressed about my career as well. I haven’t been too good at looking after myself, as I have prioritized other things. Yesterday a cab driver told me I looked upset and had I had a bad day? I was quite surprised because I thought I was having a good day and almost told him “No, so far, I haven’t heard of anyone being in mortal danger today,” with the usual humor I apply to life – you gotta laugh, even when you’re crying. Of course I realize though that the last month has made traces on my face. I don’t exactly look my best and I am tired, missing the Cali sunshine and beauty, which used to invigorate me, as well as our house – having a home that felt like home. Today, as I was fearing for my own life for a few seconds, I think it all hit me – I no longer had the strength to fight it. It was like a dam broke and I just couldn’t stop crying – like the shock about my friends finally hit me. I went to the office and I just cried. Hell, I’m still crying.

For the first time in my life I’m allowing others to see my pain, confusion, whatever it is. Maybe because I’m not unhappy as such anymore, or maybe because I’ve learnt that the only way to deal with emotions is to face them. As I was in the office, finally having calmed down, my co-worker came in and asked me what was up and as I tried to utter the words I just burst out crying and couldn’t speak. I felt like a right fool, but there is nothing foolish about being in shock, or feeling some pain. If I stay feeling sorry for myself forever, then yes, very foolish. If nothing else for wasting my own life, but also for becoming a burden on others and wasting theirs.

Before I would run and hide, feeling like a failure, feeling weak if I showed any other emotions than joy and happiness. Now, I try to open up. I try to call people and ask to talk, to get support. I was always clamped up, wanting to be perfect, feeling lonely and angry, when I was younger. Now I know I will be fine, but I would be happy to get a hug and if I don’t ask for it, no one will guess I want it. There is nothing weak about asking for a hug, so long as you don’t put your entire life in other people’s hands. You have to find the love in you, but some extra coming your way is sometimes very helpful. I’m basically learning to show emotions, without leaning my life on others.

The people who cause the most havoc are the ones that are broken that pretend they aren’t and living their egos out loud. They aren’t healing, they are digging their wounds deeper, causing anger and pain inside, and those wounds will at some stage affect others. They pretend they can take on the world, when in fact they can’t handle themselves alone without distraction for an hour. They will mess up relationships and cause unhappiness, mainly for themselves but sometimes also for others. Some become alcoholics, shopoholics, sexoholics, workoholics…the list goes on. The difference between enjoying something and using something as a drug is that if you use it as a drug you do it to try to forget something else. Personally I used to get lost in work, art and beauty, but as I was pointing out the beauty and magic of life to everyone else, I still felt empty and lonely inside, because I was so clamped up, always fighting my own emotions. Not until about 2 years ago did I start to truly live the magic myself and maybe in the last month I’ve learnt to live it a bit more.

Right now I’m hurting, apart from my head, my hand and my arm that are all throbbing, I’m hurting. I’m petrified. I’m decidedly confused. But I don’t feel like I used to feel when I was younger. I’m not unhappy. In a weird sense I am very happy, because my core is happy and I feel like I awoke today – like the true beauty of life is not just there in front of me, but in me and I can finally feel it. I’m no longer a spectator in life, instead I’m living life, because I’m open. Things will come and go and I will be as open as humanly possible to the good things and allow the bad things to blow straight through me. Non-attachment as they say, but unlike I used to think it’s not about numbing yourself, it’s about opening yourself.

Today, after all this had happened, somewhere in between naps to try to heal my banging head, someone told me a love story and I felt my heart expanding, as I got all happy for this person. Life will keep moving, storms will come, storms will go and if you are lucky they will break you open, but in the end it all comes back to love.

I’m here, I’m alive. I will continue to use my imagination to make life a little bit sexier, a little bit more playful than the ordinary, continue to live my passions. I can feel love burning like chili in my heart. And whatever happens, I will live with love in my heart till the day I die.

My promise to my best friend, we tend to do monthly challenges: Hey, so here’s the November challenge pour moi: I’m going to do as much of what I love as I can, I will indulge in every moment, live with passion and zest, love you, myself and everyone else as much as is humanly possible (and some extra for the ghosts ;.) Whenever I go off on one I will think of cardamom and cinnamon, homebaked applepie and Doevington. And I will pray for love, peace and understanding. Oh, and whenever I am scared of something I will run right up to it and pinch it in the nose ;.) I think that sums it up – the P90sex, raw foods and everything else I will do as well. Loooooooooooove

Between my satin sheets…

That’s where I’m curled up right now. No intention of moving. Hugging my pillow is my task for the day. I feel like an elephant and his gorgeous wife are doing the tango inside my head (no, really, I’m sure this is possible – you just haven’t met this charming elephant couple yet if you don’t believe me). Someone else has found the remote control to my body and is seriously playing with the temperature button. I wish it was a man who…turned me on…but I’m afraid it’s more like a flu. I have been sick for three days now and all I want is for someone to make me my favorite raw salads (or make up new ones) and feed me raw ice cream that would soothe my throat. Maybe some nice fever clenching teas too. That would be simply brilliant.

I couldn’t phantom why I felt worse upon awakening today than when going to bed yesterday. Then I realized that because I had to remain on my feet yesterday I ate so many painkillers I was literally numb. Still exhausted, but numb.

Sometimes we use other things than painkillers to numb something. It works in the same way though – we forget it’s there and operate as if it wasn’t, but it is. So many of us deny a part of ourselves. Something that actually deserves attention. Whether it’s a side of us that needs to sit down and mourn, a side of us that needs some pampering, or a side of us that simply needs to be seen.

I’m one of those people who love attention, love to be loved and love to share life with others (…so long as I can do it in the way of a true Leo – keep my independence and call my own shots). I just hate asking for it (like duh, us felines are superior, we don’t ask for these things – they are served on a silver plate…). Give me a mic and I will entertain the crowd. Give me a stage and I’ll make a performance. Give me a pen and I will write you a story. Give me a party and I will be sorry to disturb someone by talking to them. I hate asking for attention. I hate intruding. The problem is people don’t see me. How can they see me if I never show myself? I basically numb my own reactions so as not to draw attention. I don’t see a reason to speak too much before I know people – when I do know them though, I know they want me around. Then again, even when I know they love me I feel silly asking for help…the other night I almost fainted from my fever. I still felt ashamed and stupid to awake my best friend. I felt I was intruding on her good night’s sleep.

This makes me sound retarded, it’s not like I’m always hiding in corners, but nine times out of ten when people get to know me they’re like “Wow, you’re amazing, I never would have thought you were this much fun.” My best friend thinks this is brilliant – everyone’s in for a happy surprise and I’m like this nice gift you have to unwrap before you get the juicy inside (of course if you read this blog you get quite a bit of juice…). It’s only the people who choose to be near me that get to experience me, pretty much. I, on the other hand, think it’s an issue. I’m so tired of hearing how people first perceived me as being really arrogant (and maybe, just maybe sometimes they are right…the whole silver plate thing, ahem…) and then they discover that I’m “actually nice, warm and really funny.” I must miss out on nine out of ten people because they think I’m a diva, or plain boring. It’s not clever marketing. It’s like labeling Coca Cola with Sprite. What’s more, I feel jealous of people who have a nice marketing kit – they get attention, I don’t. Then I get angry with myself for getting jealous.

Now, of course there are days when I decide to talk to everyone that moves, there are days when people think I’m bubblier than a bubble bath (cheese police on its way) and there are days when I simply don’t feel like talking to people and I’m not one of those people who always want to be the center of attention – I really do love sitting back and listening to others. I’m like one of those sponges that soak up what people are talking about. What I’m trying to say is that most of us put on a mask, a show, a guard that’s our wall. Our wall against perceived evils. Most outgoing people talk to cover up their insecurities, I’m silent and avoid showing emotions because I was so used to being told off by bullies and my step-mom whenever I opened my mouth. If I didn’t say anything, no one had any validation for putting me down – I could still believe that the real me was great and they could never mock it, because they couldn’t see it. See me. Basically, if you don’t see me you can’t hurt me, but if you can’t see me, you can’t love me either. So many men have fallen for the fact that I’m unattainable, only to realize that once they get past my guards I’m like a dog – completely faithful. If someone becomes my friend, they’re my friend for life. I don’t play Russian Roulette with friendships, or lovers and I get extremely offended when people do.

If there is a side of you, you are ignoring, maybe take some time to ask that side what it is it truly needs. You have all the answers inside of you. You just have to “talk to yourself.” Ask what part of you needs to come out and get dusted off – get a chance to be out dancing in rays of sunlight. The thing is, even the things we have put aside because we think they hurt and need to be numbed usually aren’t as bad as we would believe. Once we look them in the eye and accept them, we realize they are just thoughts hiding in our head. They are the past, not the future. Yesterday is not today. We are not whom we were. We are not caught up in the circumstance of yesterday. We are free to be whom we like. And love. And adore.

I think I’m getting fever hallucinations. I was about to say: let’s all sprinkle ourselves with love and radiate the true beauty we all keep inside of ourselves. Let’s dance in the sunlight and play with the moonlight. Let’s sap up the true beauty of life and enjoy ourselves, the creatures we are, to the full. Clearly I’m delusional. I would never say something like that. Ever.

Love…

I’m really yummy, I swear…you just have to unwrap me, or make me purr…

The words we left unspoken…

I love to love…yet, how many times do I speak of my love? In this blog I may share my emotions with you, but do I ever call my family and friends to say I love them? Not really. Maybe my sister. My best friend knows I love her. Of course I love everyone else in my life too though, I just don’t really express it very much. The idea of running around telling my relatives I love them…weird. You just don’t do that. Not in our family. There are other ways of saying “I love you” though and I think I shall try them.

We really truly don’t know how long we have with anyone. For real. Life may shift in an instance and I think it’s healthy to remember that. To somehow be prepared. Maybe you don’t have to spend an hour a day in death preparation, like the Dalai Lama, but you need to know that anything can happen. Now.

Some people are torn apart by grief when death, or a severe accident strike them. Somewhere we have to know that sooner or later we will be parted from those we love and learn to live with it. No one will ever replace a loved one, but there is so much love out there and you are a fool if you don’t go out to find it, as well as selfish if you are not prepared to love another.

I used to have a very hard time with the idea of death. Since mom died, I just really don’t like death. As soon as someone mention the word “cancer” I wince. I don’t think it has to be like that though. I may only have one “real” mother, but both my grandmothers became my mothers too. I am thankful for the time I had with my mom and I am thankful for the time I’ve had with everyone else – with the years I’ve been fortunate enough to be loved by many different people. I value that. I value that a lot.

To move on when something happens is tough – you will miss the ones that have touched your life with beauty, but remember that there is so much more beauty out there. You really discredit the rest of the world’s population if you don’t think so. I loved watching P.S. I Love You - somehow it helped me heal my fear of losing loved ones. Life is not easy when it happens, but if you want it to, joy will return. You don’t have to stop growing, evolving and living because you lose someone. Honor their memory and by doing so become the person they always knew you were. Hold yourself to their highest image of you. Live life to the full. Have fun. Laugh a lot. And love – love like there was no tomorrow.

There are many people in this world that are desperate for love – the kids in war-torn countries, or from ghettos here in America, probably don’t get all the love they deserve and sometimes they grow up to become people who don’t know how to love, and therefore have severe problems in life. We can change people’s lives if we just love a bit more. If we spend that hour a week doing something for an organization, if we adopt a child, if we donate some money…if we just bake a cake for some unfortunate child. Or why not host a neighborhood party? There are way too many lonely people out there today. In most places we can’t really take pride in how well we look after one another – I don’t even know the name of most of my neighbors.

I don’t know. I just don’t wanna die knowing I did nothing for society and that I left some words unspoken. I really hope all the people who are in my life, or were in my life at some point, know that they matter/ed. I can still remember things friends, or lovers, told me years ago. Things that stuck with me – an idea, a laugh, a cuddle… I can’t really go back and tell them that years later I would still remember that, or the general support the gave me, but I hope they know, I really do. (Yes, I’m a softie, I know…I will remember all the people who touched my life, so if only for a week, till the day I die…they were all special somehow. Some made a deeper impression…but again, you can’t go back and tell them.) Now, at least I will sit down and craft some letters for my relatives. My granddad is turning 89 on Monday. I want him to know what a difference he’s made in my life. The fact that both my grandparents took turns for five years to look after us week in and week out, is amazing. They are/were truly wonderful.

Lots of love to all of you!