My Journey

I began blogging in 2009. I have written the story of how I came to blogging before, but am still grateful to Gord for pointing the way to what has become a lifestyle and career for me. It has been a journey which has taken many twists and turns, but the words have led me through. 

Those words have shown up in many places. This blog was my first, but certainly not the only place where I've written. Few know of the small blog I started to work out a little more of my grief journey. It was short-lived and didn't have many entries, but some of them were rather insightful. 

For whatever reason today, I found myself perusing that old blog. I suppose I can guess what drew me there. It's April; the month in which I was married, bought the house I live in now, and on April 1st, 2007 Brad was hospitalized with what looked like a stroke, but which ended up being a bleed in his brain. The cause; his cancer had spread and was now inoperable and fatal. 

April was an awful month for years. In 2008 I found myself retreating back into a worse state, not realizing it was a grief wave set in motion due to anniversary stress. By 2009, I knew to expect the awful choking memories and residual grief surges which flared during this difficult time period. In the years that followed, the waves were less difficult to maneuver, but still there none the less.

Today, I still feel the effects from a time period that smashed the world as I knew it. April 1st was the anniversary of the beginning of the end of my life with Brad. He will be gone nine years this summer. It is hard to believe sometimes, but I cannot imagine my life any other way now. Much has come and gone since then, but it's still hard not to feel his presence in April. And I guess that's alright.

So today I thought I would share an old post from a time long ago. I feel it held hope, which makes me glad for that woman who was days away from the 4th anniversary of impending loss. And those words offered pretty sage advice, if I do say so myself.

~~~

MY JOURNEY

March 25th, 2011;

Listen

When those that walk the earth take flight

we cry and tear our hair so tight,

but listen quiet and you'll hear

their footsteps follow always near.

When we have known someone, they leave an imprint on our soul. That cannot be erased. A loved one's voice will always be there to comfort and guide the way, if you but just listen...

Ghost Town

The Last of Duncrief

Untold history

languishing into ruin

only ghosts remain

~

Not far from where I live, an old ghost town has almost disappeared back into the realms of history. Only a decrepit house stands where once hope flourished. No mill left to mark settler's dreams. No plaque planted to tell its tale. Just broken glass, battered boards and a hint of what could have been in small-town Ontario...

About Time

Happy New Year!

Words spoken by those in...  September?!

What?

But it makes sense. And it has been similar to the meaning behind the lyrics of Auld Lang Syne . I have been experiencing 'old home' month, if you will. Faces I haven't seen in years have filed by with smiles and hugs like nary a day has past. I've seen former work associates, co-workers, spoken to high school chums, and visited friends who moved away years before. Their link is in their happiness to see me.

Now, is it that I am so great a person? Well, not necessarily or else I would probably still see or talk to them all on a regular basis. Not that I am knocking me. Life gets busy. Sometimes Big 'L' Life gets in the way of living. We get so busy running that we forget to stop and smell the roses and enjoy the people along the way that have sniffed those roses with you.

It fills my heart to see their smiles. It does my soul good to hear them say they have been thinking about me. Where have I been? What have I been doing? How have I been keeping?

I ask myself, why haven't I been around then?

Well, J lives in BC and L moved to NY 14 years ago. JA is a 2 1/2 hr drive away, as is C in a slightly different direction. A, B and D work 10 minutes from my house, but the phone has been silent between us. And my excuse for S is what? I am too busy for a coffee break? What's wrong with me? Why can't I drive 45 minutes to see D and J or 1 hour to visit with J and L? I would love to see all of them. I know there is tonnes to catch up on and we could all use the tonic of the visit.

It is that dreaded Time. Or lack thereof. But it seems that time is pointing out there is plenty of reason to stay in touch. Relationships are worth it. And regardless of the quiet days that I spend typing on my computer, I do have a few relationships in my life. My friends are there regardless of time's passage.

And right now, I should make the effort to reach back out and step into people's lives. It is worth it. Time has bestowed the gift of remembrance on me. Perhaps it is time that I cash in on that offering.

Anyone care to sniff the roses with me this week?

Saturday's Email of the Week: Memories...

Saturday's Email of the Week

Its Saturday! Not quite back to quiet boring Saturdays just yet though, I am afraid. It will be a busy day today, but a good one. We are celebrating my littlest baby's 5th birthday today! There will be ice cream cake, glow-in-the-dark bowling, stinky shoes and a gaggle of kids hopped up on sugar and adrenaline driving me crazy! But I won't have to clean up the mess afterwards, so I am ready to go! The house will have to be cleaned though, as my sister will be in town for the festivities, but it makes for a good excuse to pull out the vacuum. Now, off to climb on and zoom we go! 


Happy Saturday all! Here's your bit of humour and history lesson for the week:

***

Have you ever wondered  why our great grandparents all had such fond  memories of their youth?

Well... I'm  surprised they remembered anything at all  !!!

Forget Tums &  Tylenol.

Forget Aleve &  Benedryl. 
Look at the cool  stuff they had back then!

A bottle of Bayer's   'Heroin'. Between 1890 and  1910 heroin was sold as a non-addictive  substitute for morphine..
It was also used  to treat children suffering with a strong cough.
And not once did my grandmother offer me  Metcalfe Coca Wine when we went to her place for dinner!

Coca Wine, anyone? Metcalf's Coca Wine  was one of a  huge variety of wines with  cocaine on the market. Everybody used to say  that it would make you happy and it would also  work as a medicinal  treatment. 

Mariani  Wine.Mariani wine (1875)  was the most  famous Coca wine of it's  time. Pope Leo XIII used to carry one  bottle with him all the time. He awarded Angelo  Mariani (the producer) with a Vatican gold  medal.

Maltine.Produced by the  Maltine Manufacturing Company of New York . It  was suggested that you should take a full glass  with or after every meal. Children should only  take half a glass.



A  paperweight:
A paperweight  promoting C.F. Boehringer & Soehne (  Mannheim , Germany ). They were proud of being  the biggest producers in the world of products  containing Quinine and Cocaine. 

Opium for   Asthma:At 40% alcohol plus  3 grams of opium per tablet. It didn't cure  you... but you didn't care!

Cocaine Tablets   (1900).All stage actors,  singers, teachers and preachers had to have them  for a maximum performance. Great to 'smooth' the  voice.

Cocaine drops for  toothache.Very popular for  children in 1885. Not only did they relieve the  pain, they made the children very happy!


Opium for  newborns.I'm sure this would  make them sleep well.  (not only the Opium,  but also the 46% alcohol)




It's no wonder they  were called, "The Good Old  Days".

>From cradle to  grave... everyone was STONED  !!!

Reworked Dreams

Starving
Drunken Corpses
Wandering shadows of men

I see you staring at yesterday
Streaks of obsession mold you
Leave you old - dead words

Your belonging is gone
Now imagined
A past dream

Today,  a gray face
Slashed fingers grasping
The coin has rolled away

Scabbed hearts
And flaccid minds
Are all that caress you now

Tomorrow
What means Tomorrow
-Heaven in a grave cold.

     ^^^
This poem was written many years ago. Re-reading it now, I would perhaps move words around, change them up or maybe even scrap it altogether. It was actually even a re-writing of another older poem that I had written entitled Tomorrow. I don't have the date on Tomorrow (I tended to put dates on poems even then with dreams of the legacy I would leave), but I believe it was written in 1992. Reworked Dreams was written in April, 1995.

I highlight it here today, as this was the first poem I had published. For me it was so exciting at the time. I guess it still is, although I have since read that the tome that it was published in was nothing more than a sham. I was young and goggle-eyed with thoughts of seeing my name in the printed form, and bought into their "competition". The National Library of Poetry seemed to publish everything that was sent to them though (regardless of merit I have since read), but the kicker was the buying of the book that it would appear in. Of course I bought a copy of Shadows and Light. I even got a notification that I was in the top 3% of entries, therefore receiving an Editor's Choice award. Wow!

The burst bubble didn't hurt that bad though. While it is disappointing that there wasn't any teeth behind their competitions, that amounted to nothing more than book promotions, the experience stayed with me. It helped to push me and keep me writing. I have a little book that has my poems in it written since as far back as 1991. I can see progression in my writing, but even better, can see that my muse has been with me for a long time. I still might not become a big, famous poet, but I can look back with pride in my will to create. For that is the heart of writing in my books.

I want to thank One Stop Poetry for the prompt today. They suggested telling them where we began our poetry career. I suspect that the stories of the myriad of poets that are out there hold some fascinating reading in themselves. My story started in my teens, but has carried through the years with encouragement from occasional writing contests, well-received poems for friends and family in greeting cards, my own personal drive to get the words running through my head down on paper, and of course my blog. It might not wow anybody, but getting this poem published was another huge affirmation for me that this was what I wanted to do. And I am doing it.

Great Zimbabwe

With our fill of city under our belts and dear Brettski behind the wheel again, we were off to track down history in Zimbabwe. Well fed, showered and up to date with letters and curio-shopping, we stepped back in time. Our destination was Masvingo, where we planned to visit Great Zimbabwe, a ruined city that was once the capitol of the Kingdom of Zimbabwe.

Having toured through Europe the previous year, my sense of history had vastly enlarged in scale. Back home in Canada, old houses were 80-150 years old, but massive trees easily beat out on any man-made historical sites around. In Europe, I had been awed by buildings that had been in existence for hundreds to over a thousand years, many having seen many uses through the ages. A quiet respect filled me to walk through solid rock structures that had seen members of the Roman Empire walk through these same rooms. History became tangible and reachable in ways I had never experienced. We had not seen many old structures thus far in our African journey, so I relished this taste of their history.

The history of Africa is written in the people’s songs and stories. We know that some of the oldest human remains have been found on the continent, but they have typically been societies of hunters and gatherers. That equates to temporary mud and grass huts that are abandoned to follow herds of migrating animals or to escape times of drought. The rondavels I had seen might have been decrepit looking and old, but it was relative and of a people’s ancient history, they gave little story.

Great Zimbabwe was different though. Here was a landmark built entirely of stone and without mortar, that had begun construction in the 11^th century. It existed and thrived as a city from 1100 to 1450 AD, during the country’s Late Iron Age, at which point it was abandoned and fell into ruin. As we wandered through the stone structures, we were given a view of an organized people where upwards of 18 000 people may have lived in its heyday. Now sections of walls were gone and towers were only envisioned through pictures provided by the site. An amazing amount of the walls and towers were still intact though, highlighted by the Conical Tower, which is 18 feet in diameter and 30 feet high.

This was a kingdom ruled by the Shona people long before white faces invaded the lands. With the grounds covering a radius of approximately 100-200 miles and encompassing 1800 acres, I could not help but be impressed by this ancient black civilization. The relatively recent end to apartheid in South Africa had not dispelled the feeling of a racially motivated social tier in the communities we had wandered through. This monument must have felt like a slap in the face of apartheid’s belief that blacks were simple and inferior. Of course we were not in South Africa anymore and quite a bit of the racial tensions had eased just in crossing the border, but they were still in evidence. Spending the day wandering along walled passages and ducking under ancient stone lintels was an interesting experience that gave another picture of time in this land that made me feel more at home with its history in trees and rocks.

After being treated to another home-cooked meal at Clovelly Lodge life was looking pretty sweet. Feeling closer to the people and their land, Miki and I decided to explore further on horseback. We galloped along behind our guide with grins plastered to our wind-swept faces. A big home-cooked breakfast stuffed us again with the delightful taste of leisure. This must be how the other half lived, I surmised with happiness as the sun set on another glorious day in Africa.