2 years.

There’s only so long that I can commemorate death. I’m not that way.
Even the world completely changes. The night you left, there was a full moon out. Last night? I stood on an unobstructed beach at night and no trace of the moon. But I kept seeing little remembrances of you everywhere. Le Creuset in the store. How I obsess (like you did) about fixing the bed. Knowing how to behave in “society” – even though society doesn’t really do it the way you taught anymore LOL. You’re always with me. You visit me in dreams. I remember all the lessons you taught – especially the one you had to share with me most: trop presse pas fait jour l’ouvrie (hurrying doesn’t make the day start).

It’s hard for me to “commemorate” the day you LEFT… rather than celebrate all that your life gave me. Your birthday is just a mere month away. I think I much rather celebrate your life.

But I acknowledge this is the day you ascended. And I still miss you as much… if not more. It does get easier… but not in the way we’re used to this kind of thing being easier. Easier means – it’s not all consumming anymore…. but on the days that it does trap your mind….

well. those are very hard days.

I’m still here thinking about you, Mommy. I wrote you a couple of posts this year. You popped in and out of my dreams to work with me… work on me… comfort me… warn me. Just like you did in life. I miss most being able to talk to you. It’s hard to realize after all this time that you were indeed the best friend I’d ever had.

I really miss you li’l mommy.

Love you always

*

Good song. Great words. It’s nice that they kind of put the advice out there for folks sometimes. It’s all just a matter of listening.

*

*

Last night wasn’t actually a bad night. Just some not-great things happened in it. I got home after an extremely productive day at work and the Hubby was cooking dinner for me. Sweet and thoughtful and wonderful. He made chicken patties so we could have a little picnic dinner. I ate them… They were delicious. But something didn’t sit right with me ultimately. I got a horrid tummy ache and felt out of sorts. I wasn’t my self. At 9:00PM I was contemplating turning in for good for the night. Which I did, but I didn’t stay down. The tummy got worse and so did my demeanor. I was just miserable. Eventually the hubby made me some hot tea which I drank quickly and I sniffed some Peppermint oil and was able to stay down for a while. Part II of the torture came in. Remember that Drake obsession? Well, I’m now convinced that there is something subliminal in the music. Because it’s haunting me. No matter what I do – it’s the only music I hear in my head. I listened to nothing but Gospel yesterday (Help – everyone who knows ME? knows it was for work — it’s just not my cup of tea). And somehow the long tones held for the Lord couldn’t scrub my brain clean of Drake’s music all night… it was juggling between verses with Nicki Minaj or duets with The Dream. It was actually KEEPING me awake. Which is a sure sign it’s time to put that album AWAY. But… the night doesn’t stop there.

Part III of the torturesome night comes in the form of a dream. When I finally did close my eyes long enough, I found me and my hunny strolling through the streets of some town. Just chatting. At one point, we sat down on the steps of a town house. Pretty house but was old school… needed some repair. Outside, there was a great big Yellow valance hanging down from the outside of the topmost window down around the entrance. The house felt familiar and comfortable so we sat on the steps talking. In the middle of our discussion some people come out of the house — looks like they’re going for a night on the town. They look familiar… but I think it’s my mind playing tricks on me. The lady passes by and I smile at her and she smiles back. The gentleman passes and gives me a huge hug and continues on his way. I don’t find it to be strange at all. Just some friendly people in this dream realm. We decided to walk into the house and make ourselves at home (I know right?) but they left the doors open. We sat in the parlour room and watched tv and chatted over beverages. Suddenly I hear the chatter of children and I look up. There’s a man standing there in an orange sweater and blue jeans and another man in a white v neck long sleeve and jeans. They are assessing the house. I look down next to my hubby and there’s a woman sitting next to her with the eldest of what looks like 2 baby girls. The youngest one is cradled in the orange sweater man’s arm. He finally turns around and it’s JC. I gave him a most evil stare and said, “what are you doing here?” and he flippantly responded “I’m in the market for a house.” “Not this one,” I returned, “It’s not for sale.” And he frowned up his lips in assessment and mumbled “they need to….” I glanced at the babies… I couldn’t see their faces… But they looked happy and sunkissed and perfect. I glanced at the hubby and he was gone… I stood up and walked out of the house and asked them all to please follow me out – the house was now closed. JC shrugged and gathered his family and friend and left. Almost sucking his teeth at me on his way out. The bile bubbled up in my stomach and woke me.

I know I’m only footsteps away from the things I want in life. The things I’ve been chasing. But I’m only human. I guess deep down inside… I’m envious of people who seem to have things … I must think they don’t deserve. It’s not my place to decide those things. But… I’d be denying a very real and essential part of me if I tried to pretend that all of me is okay with it all of the time. I am slowly realizing my dreams. It’s happening. But every now and again, when I look into my dream mirror… I allow myself to feel what I suppress in my waking life.

It’ll be funny to reach back and read this post when all my dreams are fulfilled. I’ll think… “How silly was I to ever doubt….”

*

“I live for the nights that I won’t remember… with the people that I won’t forget”
-Drake

Not much to say here. Had a really amazing weekend (half of it) and the other half recovering. But the awesomeness of the first part makes up for that.

I’m hoping for a productive week of keeping my word and banging some stuff out of the way so I never have to think about it again. I’m Drake’d out – but it’s a good thing. I haven’t enjoyed an album like this in a long time. Got ready to it on Sat…. rode through the city to it to our final destination. And it’s STILL on my mind.

LORD… September is almost over??? *smh*

Here’s to another week meriting a weekend that awesome!

Today’s Song… Show me a Good Time

*

And I suppose I’ll just have to make time. Because I am deserving.

Even if I just come on here and say things really quick and keep it moving… Which is what I may have to do. These thoughts have to go somewhere.

Where am I at? 2 1/2 months into the new job – loving it immensely. It’s changing my life in a lot of wonderful unexpected ways. Probably going to rejoin the IVF process in November so i am and am not looking forward to that all at once. I think my hair is falling out due to the lack of all those chems in my body. So I think I’ll BC again for my birthday. That should be fun – how many times does one get to start over in life? I’m loving Drake’s album. Probably more than I should. But it’s smooth and uptempo all at once. Some of the tracks make me feel like it’s a Sade song. It’s weird. Insanity is kicking my ass for real – my endurance is up like CRAZY, but I’m not SEEING the results that I’d like. So I might consider shifting into something else. I started pulling oil again a few weeks ago – coconut. Yummy detoxification and I’m starting a cleansing detox today (oooh fun).

Overall, I’m feeling really good. I still miss mommy and daddy terribly. I’m fighting growing old. I’m learning to love certain situations in the hopes that my love will turn it all around for me. Staying positive has saved me so many times… I’m not about to stop today.

So… hopefully more quick hit posts will be coming soon. Stay tuned for those!

This morning’s Song is Drake’s Shut It Down

*

How do you know that what you’ve experienced is real? Versus another dream in your head that is so… “real”istic? I read past memories through this blog and some of the actual memories feel like a distant dream. What makes those real? How do I know for certain I went through them? Unless I have someone who can verify… and then… could it be the stuff of mass delusion? Occasionally I struggle… with this question. I suppose it’s an offshoot of the more common “What is the Meaning of Life” question that folks like to ask. My mission is to discern what is real from what is feigned and the line blurs way more often than I care to imagine. I touch my hunny’s skin and it feel real to me… soft and chocolatey and wonderful. And he reacts to my touch… with a smile or some goosebumps. And in that instant I think he’s real. Not a figment of my imagination. Not a cast member placed here to help play out the whims of my life story. Some one truly real in my life and here. But that fleeting assuredness is chased away by the thought – “one day he won’t be real anymore…” Just like Grandma and mom and dad aren’t anymore. They were a bastion in reality for me. And now all I have is the concept of them. The remembrance of how real they WERE. But are no longer. Then I try to soak up all the “realness” of each moment. So I don’t forget. Collect all my “pretty pictures” so I have them to go with me when all is said and done.

I watched “A Beautiful Mind” last night. I’d seen it before and was always intrigued that someone with something as severe as Paranoid Schizophrenia could overcome it or at least cord it off so he could live somewhat of a normal existence and still benefit from his genius. What I noted last night is that the schitzophrenia had him in such a way that those characters that followed him around were all as real to him as the regular people roaming the earth (according to the movie). He would engage in conversation with them. He could interact with them. Touch them. Feel them. They never actually “went away” he just stopped interacting with them because it would lend to too much of a fantasy world that was not actually a part of our reality. But for all intents and purposes, until someone told him “no – these are not real people – we don’t see them. This is all in your head,” they were a very real and regular part of his life. The mind is Beautiful in its constructs. What it makes you know to be true versus anyone else’s interpretation.

I thought about it a lot last night. And this morning. I thought I’d write it down. Maybe that makes it real.

On another note, I got my hands on the new Erykah Badu album. It’s called “The New Amerykah Part II – Return of the Ankh”. I’ll say honestly that I’d not loved “Worldwide Underground” or “The New Amerykah Part I – 4th World War” with the passion that I loved Baduism, the Live Album or Mama’s Gun (the latter being my absolute FAVORITE Erykah album). But I DO love this new album. It immediately surpassed the last two in my mind to take up position as the 4th Erykah Album that I truly enjoyed. With that, I’ve already identified a song that I can relate to in a very surreal way. Although it’s done in the same three movement style as “Green Eyes” (for which I adored ALL THREE movements), “Out My Mind Just in Time’s” first movement hits me right *here* (pointing to my head and my heart). Music. Sentiment. Emotion and execution all join forces for it to sound like Erykah has watched my past relationships and took a little while to quantify what she read. But finally found the very simplest words to express my addiction. My compulsion. I expressed to MJ yesterday that the main issue with me is that I remember vividly and sometimes still feel in my heart how very deeply I loved… EVERYONE. It’s still incredibly real to me. But as a side effect… I also remember how hurt I felt.

I’m a recovering undercover over-lover
Recovering from a love I can’t get over
Recovering undercover over-lover
And now my common law lover thinks he wants another

And I’d lie for you… I’d cry for you
‘n pop for you and break for you
And hate for you and hate you too
If you want me to… ahhh ooooh
I’d pray for you… Crochet for you
Make it from scratch for you
Leave off the latch for you
Go to the Store for you
Do it some more for you
Do what you want me to
Guess I’m a fool for you

I’m a recovering undercover over-lover
Recovering from a love I can’t get over oooh I
Recovering undercover over-lover
And now my common law lover thinks he wants another

And I’d lie for you… and cry for you
‘n pop for you… break for you
‘n hate for you and I’ll hate you too
If you want me to… I gotta do
My Love for you
Chop and Screw for you
Paint it Red for you
It’s true it’s true
Poor Badu…
Ooooh oooh ooh
Thought I was through with you
Guess I’m a fool for you….

*

I’ll start with my favorite musical remakes of all time. No profound commentary – I like songs that take the original and flip it on it’s ear and make you look at it in a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT LIGHT. I really mean it. But somehow maintain all the purest elements of the song. Musicians are genius!

I threw in the Estelle song as a bonus. I can’t hear the Screaming Jay Hawkins one w/o thinking about Estelle’s flip on it.

*small disclaimer for the first song… errr… it’s a little explicit… so if the kids are around, you might wanna tell them to run & play for 6 minutes and 15 seconds*

*

Where I pick this dream up is that a bunch of people I know, mixed company from all the walks of my life, are getting together for some kind of a party…. game night… beer night… watch tv at a bar night – something non monumental and E and I have decided to go. So we’re getting ready to go and there’s all this debate between he and I about which car to take. I, unusually, am lobbying HARD to take both cars. And in my dream mind I’m positive this is the right thing to do because if I don’t, I’m pretty positive that I’ll be trying to find a ride home at the end of the night. Obviously in this dream, Earl is someone who might flat leave me (which is furthest from reality). But I win the argument and we take both cars but now he’s on a mission to make SURE that we don’t come home together. He’s on the phone calling the male persons in our get-together party and trying to set up “after” party activities – namely drinking and hitting the strip club. (Now I’m POSITIVE that I’m dreaming because … like… not Earl in real life… like not never. Not drinking. Not strip clubbing).

So we get to the club and it’s a pretty decent club – nothing amazingly shocking or anything. And it looks like we have a full house and as I’m looking around, I see a lot of people from my life who might have been a part of it at one point, but not as a main character. You know… the ones that were always around in the hall at school or hanging out in the game room at the dorms or work in a different department than you at work and you say hi in the halls — but not necessarily the ones that you’d invite to your wedding or expect to see there by your side in times of need. But this particular room was filled with those characters for my life and all age appropriate. The folks that were there from Elementary school were about 35 and looked as they do now. The folks from HS and College and work… were all their proper age. Playing pool, having beers, chatting it up and away. Seemed like a prety okay night for the most part.

At one point I start looking around and can’t find Earl. And when I start to seek him out, some of my friends begin to put up some chaff and flare for him, distracting me and trying to make me change my focus. I see what’s happening so I don’t petition too hard to find him and decide that maybe it’s better to just do something else. So I grab 2 friends – Li’l Vic and Mani (my co worker) and we go to the corner Bodega which seemed to be juiced up like a 7-11 – it was bright inside and stocked heavily with everything. Mani comes over and asks me to borrow a dollar. I reach in my pocket and pull a rather tattered one out. As I try to hand it to her she points to a case behind me of lottery tickets and tells me to buy the Mega Millions Scratch off (or something along those lines). So i purchase it and turn around to hand it to her. She hands me a nickel to scratch off the area. I do and it reveals “CONGRATULATIONS!! YOU’VE WON THE 1 MILLION DOLLAR GRAND PRIZE!!!” I start to get very excited and I show Mani and she snatches the card out of my hand with glee and starts parading up and down the aisled – “I WON! I WON!” she’s exclaiming. And I stand there watching her wondering… wait… it was my dollar… I even scratched it off…. And I feel a brood coming on. She comes dancing back over to me and says “Well??? What do i do?” I remember from my very limited knowledge of lottery that you have to give it to the store owner for verification and possible pay out because the store gets a cut as well for being a winning location. So we hand it to the store clerk who looks at he ticket and looks at us and then at the ticket again and says that he won’t be able to give it to her in cash – she’ll have to accept a check for now. She shrugs and says, “Well can you write it out for $100 less and give that to me in cash? ” The clerk shrugs and says “Why not”. Still wrestling with the idea that it was my dollar and I scratched the ticket, I ask Mani if I can hold some money till pay day on Friday. And she gives me a screw face and announces that she MUST have it back by Friday. Now, I’m annoyed. “Damnit, girl… it was MY dollar you asked to borrow to get the ticket!!!” And she says “Yes… so you’ll owe me one dollar less on Friday when you pay me back”. (Editors Note: Mani in real life is NO WHERE NEAR this catty and horrible. She’s the friendliest, sweetest girl EVER). So she instructs the bodega guy to make it 200 and hands me $100 that I slide into my pocket and begin making plans for and accounting it in my head for removal from my check funds on Friday.

We head back to the club and she’s really low key about winning and we’re all still hanging together when my elementary school friend Rossana comes up to me and says, “I hope you drove, honey… cause you’re husband left a WHILE ago with the guys to hit the strip club…. You look tired.” And I nodded that I was. And now I was hurt as well.

I gradually woke up and had this song in my head. (sometimes the songs are related… and sometimes not…)

Truly Beautiful

I lost my Maternal Grandmother in August of 2001. It was earth shattering for me, because in my life at the time that would be the first “real” family member that died. You know how it is. Various “other” people die that are distant… and you feel poorly. But Granny RAISED me. She sat with me and my brother when we watched TV. Chased us around the house when it was time to wash up and go to bed. She took every spoon of porridge and blew on it good before I ate it so I wouldn’t burn my tongue. She hummed sweetly when she washed the dishes and her voice boomed low when she was upset (man… when that woman frowned… it was so serious – luckily, she didn’t do it often). She was diagnosed with breast cancer a few years before I entered high school, struggled with the idea of a mastectomy, lamenting “I fed my children with my breasts…” but eventually knew what she had to do. Had the surgery, did her very painful and sickening rounds of chemo, lost all her hair and then grew it back into the cutest little silver fro. The whole experience was harrowing for her but she took it like a champ. When she was in remission she decided she wanted to venture out and live on her own… experience something new (mind you … she was about 60 something at this time). So she moved to Ft. Lauderdale where her 2nd youngest son, Wilhelm, bought her a ranch home in one of those new communities (new back then). And I remember seeing the station wagon driving her away from us down Denman street for the long 24 hour trek… and I cried… and cried and cried. I didn’t want her to go… She’d been a part of my life from day one. But she felt like she had to move on for herself for once. And that was my first lesson in letting go of a loved one.

She lived down there for a few years and we made our visits to her – for Christmas when we drove down (My brother and I have countless laughable memories about this ride down); when mom sent us for summer vacation for 2 weeks when I was 14 – perfect timing as I was getting over breaking up with my “first” boyfriend; and she made her visits up to us and they were brief and far between. She was enjoying her time down there, meeting new people. But it was a big house and she was all by herself. One day mom was feverishly trying to contact her. She’d been complaining of not feeling well so mom was being a good daughter and checking. But to no avail. She asked one of her nearby neighbors to go in and check on her and found her on the floor, barely audible… barely moving. She had had a “mini” stroke. After a brief hospitalization, they packed up her stuff and rushed her back to New York where we could all keep watchful eye. But she went through her rehab pretty effortlessly and made what seemed to be a full recovery. During this time she was in a building about 7 – 10 blocks away from our apartment building. Not a heavy trek at all, but more “work” than the apartment she previously had which was around the corner from our building. I made those trips to visit her sparingly. By this time, I was almost out of college… “busy” doing my own thing; growing up and becoming a woman. I didn’t have time to make visits like I did when I was kid. (shaking my head thinking about how much time I wasted where I could have been with her … enjoying her… ) The years started to go on and there was a wear and tear on my mother to keep visiting her out there as my mom’s health was beginning to decline now and she had to rely on my father to take her to see her mother more and more (which -if you knew my dad back then… NOT. COOL). They saw less and less of each other but they spoke numerous times a day on the phone.

Finally at one point an apartment opened up RIGHT next door to us and we jumped on it. Spoke to the management company so they wouldn’t put it on the market and lock it down so that we could get Granny in there. It was perfect – a one bedroom… and it was literally? NEXT DOOR. Coming off the elevator to head to our own apartment, we’d pass that door. I thought gleefully to myself… Oh my god… it’ll be SO EASY to visit her now!!! I’ll see her every day!!

We helped pack her up and carefully moved her to the new apartment. She expressed a great deal of excitement to be so close to us too. We all couldn’t wait. We got all her personal effects in the apartment; set her up real nice like… shared some coffee and chatter with her at our apartment before she made the long trek back to apartment down the hall. Only about an hour or two went by before mayhem ensued. One of us was holding up the bathroom in our own apartment. And so my father took this opportunity to maximize use of the brand new bathroom that had made itself available right next door instead of fussing with whoever was holding up the progress. He got to grandmas apt and something wasn’t wright. She was laid out abnormally on the bed, muttering something about “always be there… i… will… always… be there…” over and over. Her temperature had shot up and her gaze was distant. We called 911 and all the siblings and everyone made it back to her in record time. The ambulance came and took her away to Elmhurst Hosptial (closest hospital for an emergency and worst. decision. ever). I remember NOT hearing the ambulance put on it’s sirens when it drove away that night with my Granny and wondering… what was so NON urgent about her not being well. I feel angry about it till today. Even though five months would pass while she deteriorated under the lack of care at EH – I felt that the need for her care was URGENT. She would appear to be making a comeback… and then get sick again. There was a question of bedsores that were forming but weren’t being taken care. I never saw it / them but I understood one bore down damned near to her tail bone. She would eventually start having respiratory problems and they would intubate her. At first it was pretty voluntary… but soon, it became the only thing keeping her animated. And what a miserable animation. Watching that machine literally fill her full of air and pull the air away. Abnormally jerking her body up and down. And then…. there was the gurgle…. *shudders* I can’t even bring myself to describe it. Out of the 5 months that she was there… she’d spend about 3 1/2 of them in this condition. Deteriorating every day. Recognizing faces less and less. Not being able to converse due to the tube in her throat with this MISERY in her eyes. And soon she animated less and less.

The afternoon of August 8th, which was a Wednesday, we got a frantic call from mom to drop everything and hurry to the hospital right away. My brother, Earl and I were all at work… so we hurried, met up at times square 7 train station and rode into Queens together. But it was rush hour. And there were train delays. Everything was backed up. We were stuck between the express stop of Queenboro Plaza and 61st and Woodside, when we got the call from mommy that she was gone. I fell apart right on the train. My brother kept up a good manly face, but he’d just lost his second mommy too. We got to the hospital… had a chance to say goodbye to her through the empty shell she left behind… just in case she could still hear and went home to plan the next few days.

A few weeks after we interred her body, I had to go away on business for training. A day trip at best but they sent me flying. As I sat in my window seat with my CD Walkman playing the new india.arie album, Acoustic Soul, I looked out over the clouds and remember stories of being told how heaven was up here… here in the clouds and sky. So if I’d ever be close to Grandma again, this was it. Staring into the clouds… maybe hoping that I’d see a glimpse of her… I heard her instead. Over gentle guitar and drum. Finally explaining why she really left…

“The time is right… I’m gonna pack my bags
And take this journey down the road
Cause over the mountains I see the bright sun shining
And I want to live inside the glow.

I want to go to a place where, I am nothing and everything
That exists between here and nowhere
I wanna go to a place where… time has no consequence and oh yeah…
the sky opens to my prayers…
I wanna go to Beautiful”

It might have been india singing… but these were my Grandmother’s words. Calling up images of the 5 months of suffering… the long life of hard decisions and sickness… and letting me know that where she is now… it’s better. It’s beautiful. It’s without pain or suffering and I shouldn’t lament her being gone – instead… rejoice that she’s at peace. The message was clear and I accepted it.

Lately, I’ve been hearing the song here and there… in a movie… in passing at the station… but I don’t stay to listen to it for fear that it’ll dredge up all sorts of emotions that I’m not ready to deal with yet. The anniversary of my mother’s passing is coming fast upon me and I’m not sure how I’ll handle it all. So it would come on and I’d walk away or turn off whatever media was streaming it and keep it moving. Driving alone yesterday there was NOTHING on the radio so I plugged in my ipod and put it on shuffle. First song to play…. Beautiful. I heard the guitar strum and the intial drum beat and started to chuckle to myself. Aloud I said, “Alright Granny… you win. What are you trying to tell me?” So I listened and sung along and took note of the 2nd Verse this time.

“Please understand that it’s not that I don’t care
But right now these walls are closing in on me
I love you more than I love life itself
But I need to find a place where I can breathe… I… can… breathe

I wanna go to place where I can hold the intangible
AND LET GO OF THE PAIN WITH ALL OF MY MIGHT
I wanna go to a place where I’m suspended in ecstacy
Somewhere between dark and light
Where wrong becomes right…”

Again, Grandma was telling me to listen as a message from Mom and Dad… mostly Mom, though… as I’d spend so much time before she died wondering… why she didn’t feel that Domi and I were good enough for her to consider as a reasons to live and persevere. Everyone needs a reason… why weren’t her children as good of a reason as her husband? And it burned and tortured me… But it wasn’t about ME. It was about all the circumstances wrapped up together. The longer I live with my relatively still new husband… the more I can’t imagine life without him. And we’ve been “together” for 10 years in December… married for 2 and 1/2 now. She’d been with daddy for 38 years. Regardless of what happened between them that was bad… they had so much history. And towards the end… they leaned on, nay, clung to each other – even if it might have been in fear. Between losing her own mom… losing her husband and feeling truly alone and that she was really losing this battle with her body’s ills…. she had to let go of the pain…with all of her might. What IMAGERY that gives me. It was so powerful that I had to pull over and sob right in the car. She had to go. I understand now.

It doesn’t hurt LESS… but I think Grandma gave me the keys to let go of the idea that any of this was MY fault.

Thank you Granny. I miss you and mommy INFINITELY.

*