There'll be laughter

There'll be laughter, even after-

You're gone.

I'll find reason, to face

That empty dawn

For I've memorized each line in your face

And not even death could ever replace-

The stories they tell to me.

I'll miss you...Oh how I'll miss you...

And I'll cry a million tears

But the sorrow will pass

And the one thing that will last-

Is the love..you've given...to me.

There'll be laughter...

written by Iris Dement

A good friend recently lost her dear-sweet husband too soon. I had written in the past of having friends (I'm very blessed with incredible friends who share their lives with me and teach me oh-so-much about love.)

who are truly living lessons in devotion to their mates. This couple were my number two teachers. Yep- I've got another set of soul mates who had been my model for what it must be like to live for an other's happiness. These two couples could not be separated, even in names. They were always the two names said in one breath, in one instance. Death was the only thing that could ever part any of them physically. And death has entered in and left a striking void...and all I can attest too at this time, for this I know and know too well; love never really dies. For them, for their families- mountains may seem like their twin. And for some time, there they will stand in the shadow of the mountain and they'll wonder, waking and in their dreams- how they'll ever get over it.

These things I write here are not meant to sadden but to make aware - the people who share your life are gifts of love. A blessing that must be kissed frequently, reprimanded gently in an argument and loved completely at all times. That's how one moves mountains, by knowing in time- that all was said and all was done, that there will be laughter again because you knew it oh so sweetly before, gratefully acknowledging that no one else could have made you smile so. No one else could have filled you up and made you know more everything than might ever have been discovered or even wished for on your own.

The song up above says so much more than I could ever conjure up. I sang it this morning, thinking of E-and-Jim. I sang it once more- just to see if I could get through it without the waterworks.

How death humbles us, weakens us, batters us- but never, when love is involved- diminishes us.

There'll be laughter...

...without the wind

I read something recently that just did not sit well with me. I am no scholar, psychologist, scientist- nor do I have much education to credit any kind of specific philosophy. What I have learned, what knowledge I have gained usually came from experiences. I have read and researched with the best of them, though I don't believe in dedicating my unique life/gift to the thoughts or beliefs of another. Many teachings though, have expanded my own horizons. But somewhere, somehow- I began to explore not only translations, but the vertical leaps, the transformation from moments of clear insight, that perhaps were graces given to me, that I might offer up a perception that might glean others a more vertical view. To do this, many mountains had to be moved. Many tears had to fall, many uncomfortable moments had to be endured, and one specific event exchanged all I believed. In short, all the layers of varnish that have been applied over the years had to be stripped away. I don't believe anything essential can be stripped away, what is ingrained in one's soul cannot be removed. Many speak of life's circumstances, a person's upbringing, education, lack of opportunities, physical ailments, etc. cause a person to become ingrained with a life pattern, making people act a certain way. That's the word that disturbed me- ingrained. As if what one was born to be may not occur because of the restrictions, the indelible marks caused by misfortunes and even fortunes. I don't buy this. I feel that as the layers are stripped away, the varnish- one begins to see that true grain, running completely through them. What life has done, shellacked for lack of a better word- has only left scratches that are not indelible, there are scars yes, deep sometimes- absolute ravines- but below those marks, is where our true grain lies. When I wrote-

Strip your layers

Find your grain...

I was dealing with a devastating life blow. For a time, I shellacked the hell out of my physical, spiritual, mental self. I drank like a fish, I smoked till I could only feel neutrality- I could not bear for the longest time, anything remotely akin to who I truly was, because who I truly was...became shattered, shredded, in deep and dark turmoil and pain. My well of inspiration had run completely dry, not only could I not help myself, I could not even begin to help another, even my own children. This feeling finally offered a bit of awakening-"Hey! This is not me, this is a performance- I am acting out of pain and fear, I am afraid of more of the same. But my children, my kids...I see this same kind of performance." And thus, my journey began.

I write these things because I feel that some may think more of me than they do of themselves. Brother, I tell you- the best I can offer you is a hand as I climb too. But if I can offer the same grace that was offered to me, if it helps you out along the way, so be it. My reasoning here today- if you find yourself completely hidden by life's misfortunes, strip a layer or two. It is a frightening process, it is painful, and mean and a terribly, terribly vulnerable thing to do. But it is a process, meaning- not permanent, temporary...the first step, the first layer to be removed is often the most difficult. We are not ingrained permanently by misfortune, though I do believe we are stripped, layer upon layer- until we see the grain of who we are.

"...open up to love and pain,
Hand in hand- they always go,
Sorrow's end is where we grow"

The pain does translate deep lessons but the love...and there is much love everywhere, I hope you can at the very least take some hope from me here- will transform you.

Pretty deep stuff here today, perhaps the climb has started for me again...I have come to believe that none of us ascends truly, unless we all do. None of us fly so high without the wind. None of us can set the sail until the ocean beckons. And none of us, not one of us- can do it alone.

"...if any little word of ours
can make one life the brighter,
if any little song of ours-
can make one heart the lighter...
God help me speak that little word
And take our bit of singing,
And drop it in some lonely vale,
To set the echoes ringing."

Please if you will, what has been of service to you in your life, helping you to see more clearly- what you were made to see, acknowledge, create?

Yes dear readers, I am asking you to expose a vulnerability and the healing that took place after...

Consider too, what virtue there is in your progress- it may just shine quite the bright light for another.

Thanks...take care-

between the joy

""Sorrowful joy" sums up my feelings after last night. There is so much joy in celebrating and honoring our sons in what ever way we can. The joy of watching shells burst to their favorite music is, to me, awe inspiring. So much joy, so much beauty. It is, unfortunately, joy born of great sorrow. You are so right when you say love never dies but goes on forever. It is just so tough that there is so tight a connection between the joy and sorrow.

We have met so many wonderful people that we would not have "IF" things were the "old normal" and John and Beau were just a phone call away. But (yes, there is that cursed "but") we know that is not possible. All we "members of the club" can do is help each other in what ever way possible. Be it fireworks, beautiful prose, a supportive look, a hug or all of the above, it is what we must do so we are able to continue our lifelong journey of surviving and moving on." L. and V.

I think that we are born to bear both joy and sorrow, to recognize that each is on a level plane-that there is a balance there, a tight rope walk.
When one rises higher or lower- I misstep and fall. Beneath me is a net, held together by the strings of friendship- threads woven together by family, friends, kind strangers, strong words, kind gestures, hope, hugs and kisses and embraces- a tapestry that never frays, it's strength capable of catching me in my many tumbles, so resilient and strong, though ever expanding and flexible- it bounces me back up there, on that tight rope walk.

My joy and sorrow last week was like a lost sock in the washer, caught up in many blankets in the spin cycle, agitated, stretched, lost in the load. I was so weepy yet so thankful that once again my son's name would be on many tongues, his memory alive once again for many, not just me...I miss him. I miss hearing his name. I miss seeing the reactions of the faces when they recall the stories of Beau. I miss the laughter connected with those stories. I yearn for him, his story, his connection here...every moment of every day.

I stood below a thundering display Saturday night. I held my hands to my face- an act of awe and vulnerability that I tried to contain. I do not let others down easily, I do not like to affect anyone negatively- there is enough of that in this world. But I realized, as of a weepy Saturday morning...that I am not a pillar of strength, I am a mom, a human person with a great spirit that mostly soars. I am a person who often is humbled harder down, because I am (reluctantly) aware of the lowest of lows and so my highs are equal in their heights- it's hard to see the ground.

My friends, you have humbled me- gently, soothingly, lovingly- like a cannon ball, you came through the wall that sorrow has built and love secures with the mortar of memories...the one I could not climb, or go under or over...one must go through. Oh the wideness of the gap now...thank you, thank you. If you know not what you do...if all you do is out of that great love for John, it is more than enough sweet parents- that resilent ever increasing, never dying love. Scoop by scoop, we will move our mountains...

Take care-