Life is Your Story

How do you comfort your mom after your dad passes away? How do you convince her that everything is going to be alright when you are unable to convince yourself? How do you expect her to just move on after having having spent most of her life with the same person? He was her best friend. They loved each other, they hated each other, they put up with one another, they ate breakfast together, they ate dinner together – he asked “how was your day?” and she asked “how was your day?” and other times they ate in silence. They forgave and forgot, they gave and they took, there was hurt and pain and joy and laughter. There was all that life could throw at them and all that they withstood as a united and powerful force created from love and devotion. They sacrificed for you and your siblings as all good parents do in wanting more for you than they had for themselves. They made a promise – in sickness and in health – knowing one would eventually fall ill while the other w

As we grow older the pool of people we meet and befriend becomes larger and more diversified. Some are just acquaintances while others have been there during the worst crisis of our lives. I have witnessed people truly coming together in support and out of compassion for one another and it is a beautiful thing. I volunteer as a facilitator of support groups for those suffering from mental illness as well as their caregivers. Often the people that attend my groups are living in a psychiatric ward or have just been discharged. Many of the participants were or are admitted at the same time and so they become familiar with one another. This provides them with a common ground and a shared understanding of the pain and daily challenges they all face. They don’t pretend to be someone they are not. They are past the stage of disguises and stories and fake images. They are exhausted but they are fighters and they deal with the very essence of survival in the bleakest of moments. Through t

There is no such thing as old love There is only love Once you love someone They leave an indelible mark on your soul Even if they hurt you terribly Or they somehow wandered away You still have love for them In that very place they left it There is still a trace of every set of lips That has ever kissed yours Sometimes they are regrets Sometimes they are blessings You can’t bring an end to love There are no walks or runs or rubber bracelets To rid the world of love When Love walks out your door You just have to believe  It will march back through that door Without that belief You just may miss it Happy Valentines Day to all of those who have found love and to all of those still brave enought to believe they will find it again.

When you lie on top of me You give me shelter When you kiss me You give me fire When you hold me You give me lightning When you love me You give me sun Love me Hold me Touch me Kiss me Never leave me And my heart will beat  Like… Thunder beneath your hands

When you witness death, life no longer scares you. You find yourself comparing the end to the beginning. You forget that it’s the middle that counts because that is where everything happens. When you are waiting for your phone to ring and you are on a marathon of hospital runs and standing in elevators where everyone looks down instead of up; you transform into a shackled zombie shuffling along a single track always looking over your shoulder for an oncoming train. By the bedside watching a loved one slip away, you are reminded of how they lived. Tiny snapshots expand into full cinematic view. The heart rate machine seizes to reach its highs and lows and collapses into one final long beep. The oxygen mask is removed and your entire childhood slips through the palm of your hand leaving your soul robbed and barren. You die a little each day but on this day you die more. If there is one thing you learn from death; it is this: The beginning is for learning. The

If you are middle aged, chances are you have already experienced saying goodbye to the house you grew up in. Often as in the case of my family, one parent passes away and the other (after 50 years) decides to downsize, move to an apartment and leave the ghosts behind. But you never really leave those ghosts behind because the house you grew up in will always be the house you grew up in. The walls have memories. The shadows that have been casted upon them remain although they change shape over time. Ask anyone which rooms hold the most memories and they will probably say “my bedroom and the kitchen.” Your bedroom kept your secrets, the dreams of your first crush, first kiss, the private telephone conversations that lasted for hours, the homework left stale because you decided watching TV or staring out the window in oblivion, was a better use of your time, the sleepovers, the first boyfriend/girlfriend who shared your bed, skin to skin, a feeling like no other. Your

This is what happened.   I went to meet a new freelance client downtown.   I am standing on a corner at a red light and across the way at the opposite light, I spot an X LOVER (this happens at several intersections on a weekly basis).   The decision process begins. Let’s run through this together.  Here are the choices: A - Walk briskly and pretend not to see him. B - Same as A except pretend to be talking to someone on my cell phone. C - Just be mature, polite, and normal for 3 minutes. Do the “How are you?” thing, listen attentively and then move along.   D - At all costs, back up slowly, keeping your eye on the subject and cross at a different intersection.   I chose option "D"   I'm heading down the wrong street in the wrong direction and I'm thinking to myself, "Maybe I should consider going back into therapy” when things suddenly get worse. I see a relative coming straight my way and I know from vast experience that she is a close talker wit

Over the course of the past few years I have noticed that I am aging and I have come to the conclusion that this is happening because I am aging. And with this highly anticipated joyful life event my face is slowly slipping and sliding and large puffy pillows have formed under my eyes. These are most apparent when I awake in the morning fresh and waiting to start a new day. This is my Confession - please do not share it with anyone else. I’m middle aged. I’m forgetting everything including what I have forgotten. I am always tired and when I’m not I’m tired. My once flat stomach is in a constant state of bloatation (and I am prone to making up words). But by far the most visible sign of my ship sinking are those bags under my eyes and the lines that crisscross and align over their peaks. Thankfully I have the world at my hands and more than enough information on any subject whatsoever on the very happy and busy planet of Google. So I sear

It’s getting dark. I’m heading home. You won’t be there. I’ll eat alone. I’ll wonder how I ended up Where I’ve ended up. I’ll put on the TV but I won’t watch. I’ll open up a book but I won’t read. I’ll get into bed but I won’t sleep. I’ll stare at the walls. The shadows staring back at me. I’ll close my eyes. I’ll hear your voice. I’ll see your face. Your lips will move. I’ll ask the question That everyone asks But you won’t answer You’ll walk away Into the white Into nothing I won’t get to tell you What I should have told you... You are the rhythm As I breathe in As I breathe out You are the reason I am here In the black Bumping into everything I love you I feel you somewhere Everywhere Nowhere And as you continue to fade As you move further away As every memory of you Comes crashing down I will open my eyes I will bite my lip

Dogs are incredible souls. They are gifts. We don’t have them for long but while we do have them they bless and enrich our lives. They love us from the time we bring them home until the light leaves their eyes and we become so accustomed to having them around that without them our lives become silent and empty.                                                         Buster (2007-2010) F*ck Cancer Dogs don’t care if you are fat or skinny, old or young, having a really bad hair day or if you are rich or poor. They just love you. They miss you the second you leave the house and they are there to greet you the second you open the door. They think that the greatest thing in the whole wide world (aside from rawhide) is spending time with you. They are funny not knowing they are funny and not meaning to be funny. They each have their own unique personalities and traits. Some like to eat your socks, others your sho

There are dark cold days when nothing falls into place and my heart drops and my mind spins. I can’t grasp onto anything or anyone. There is no exit from the heavy sorrow that fills and overflows seeping through my pores. There are slices of light and seconds of sun that lift me and push me upward and allow me to breathe fuller and escape what seems to be the unrelenting noise of my thoughts. And between these states of dark and light, between the flow of the ocean and the moon rising, I reach out and search for those I’ve lost, those I’ve loved, those I will never touch, see, hug, hold again in this life. I can’t find them because I don’t know where they are only that they are somewhere around me with me watching over me moving forward with me and forever connected to me.   When I close my eyes I see them and sometimes in my dreams I hear them. They are telling me they are okay and they will be there for me, they wait for me, their arms will