Month: December 2017

Grief and the Holidays

Alongside of the day your loved one passed away, and their birthday, the holidays can bring to the surface the pain you have learned to canvas so well the remainder of the year. You are not alone in your sentiment towards the holidays, nor are you wrong to dislike the duration of the festivities. By in large, the Holidays in spirit are meant to be a time of reflection and gratitude for those who are in our lives, and the blessings we have. But it’s easy for those around you to overlook your suffering due to the same reflection....

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34. Grief Defined

I’ve experienced malice. I’ve seen projection and raw anger. I’ve seen hurt exposed. And I’ve felt the depths of hell. Never did I expect to be the recipient of ultimate loathing and hate. The familiar taste of poison began to resonate between Zachary and I. And for a tremendous amount of time , I lacked  the ability to become immune to the sting…..guilt. I allowed the war to rage on with no return fire, breathing in the fumes of  distain as if it was deserved. Let him rage. Let him ease his hurt.  If for a single moment, he...

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33. Root Pass

Most people run from treachery. Most people run form the notion of emotional turbulence and potential heartache. I’m not most people. For me, Trent “Blade”, was the very first thing I felt that wasn’t pain. He was the first thing I felt that didn’t break my heart. He was scary, and  intimidating,  and  completely  mysterious……… But he was in no way a reference to the pain, or my previous   loss. I had to know him. I had to. I found reasons to go to Skitzy, several times over the next two weeks, until finally, I flew up behind a grader, and saw, sitting in the operator seat, a tattered hoodie, and a dirty ball cap. I slowed the truck and didn’t pass although he moved over when he saw my approach. My hands trembled as I touched the screen on my phone to text; “Is that you in front of me?” I watched intently for him to move, or shift to grab his phone. I couldn’t be certain it was him, but I had a pretty good idea. The glare from the snow reflected back off of his windows at me, and   I couldn’t see any distinctive movement. “Who is this?” “Carrie, the safety girl in the Gray truck behind you.” “YEAH!!!! It’s me!!!!!” I giggled out loud, and then went cold. What do I say now? I  know...

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32. Skitzy

Enough heat to melt metal in the palm of your hand; a stinger, a rod, an electrical current, and a job.  I’ve  been welding  for  as long as I can remember, fusing together two cold and useless sharp edges to make a seamless connection that allowed no distinguishing difference between each individual piece; enough energy, passion, and heat, to make  two; one. Flipping the hood down, you can hear breath echo into your ears, feeding your mind with heightened senses when the world goes dark. Focus. A solid ground found, the rod, at a thirty degree angle from the stinger, steady hands, and the Lincoln Electric Welder humming behind you. Darkness. Tip the hood up, find your bearings, set the rod close. Steady. Breathe. Nod your head to the task at hand, and drop the hood. Lower the rod, and move it gracefully across the surface, create a spark. The light is intense, and consumes the space. Everything illuminated in the path of the energy. Blinding heat. Steady now. With synchronized breathing, and the deep lull of the welder behind, place the rod in the space, deeply fill the gap, touching each side, watching it submissively kiss the rod, melting into the touch, forming a liquid that shines more brilliantly than a million diamonds. Spatter showers you in tiny droplets of shimmering steel, liquefied until it hits your skin....

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31. Red Curtains

The apartment was ok, it resembled a large studio apartment space and I couldn’t decide if I was kept or confined. I left boxes stacked in the corner, and eyed them from my perch on the  coffee table. I’m not sure why I didn’t sit on the couch……  probably because my coffee would spill if I set it down.   But   cross legged and coffee saturated, there I sat. It was November, Hunter was set to come stay with me, I was nervous. What if he hated it? I found myself rocking back and forth, staring at huge canvas   that adorned my barren walls. I had brought her with me, she  kept me safe. My eyes blurred with tears, spurred from nerves  that  racked  my brain…….. Hunter’s new home. I thought out loud……. Our new home. I looked at the boxes. Even my unpacking skills didn’t offer any evidence  to  my statements. Home. I have no concept of home. No concept of what that is, or what I want it to be. But by God, here I am….creating it. I blinked hard, and pulled my knees into my chest, full on “Girl Interrupted” style. My coffee steamed, and so did I. He’d be here any minute. Horrified of my own son’s opinion. Children have an innate ability to see through the bull shit of adults. They sense stress, and will...

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