Through The Rain
Through The Rain
“Depression weighs you down like a rock in a river. You don’t stand a chance. You can fight and pray and hope you have the strength to swim, but sometimes, you have to let yourself sink. Because you’ll never know true happiness until someone or something pulls you back out of that river–and you’ll never believe it until you realize it was you, yourself who saved you.” ―Alysha Speer
God Bless The USA
Happy Memorial Day Weekend! Hope you will enjoy a safe one.
“We tend to use prayer as a last resort, but God wants it to be our first line of defense. We pray when there’s nothing else we can do, but God wants us to pray before we do anything at all.
Most of us would prefer, however, to spend our time doing something that will get immediate results. We don’t want to wait for God to resolve matters in His good time because His idea of ‘good time’ is seldom in sync with ours.” ―Oswald Chambers
This is all too true.
On 14 May 1948, David Ben-Gurion, the Executive Head of the World Zionist Organization and president of the Jewish Agency for Palestine, declared “the establishment of a Jewish state in Eretz Israel, to be known as the State of Israel,” a state independent upon the termination of the British Mandate for Palestine, 15 May 1948.
May the Almighty continue to bless and protect Israel.
Two years & 8 months ago one of my closest friends in the world, Stefanie, called from Australia, where she & her husband Patrick were living at the time, to tell me she was pregnant. She hadn’t told her husband yet, nor had she told her mother, and she wouldn’t tell either of them until she officially was on day one of her third month. I was the first one to know after a doctor told her “You don’t have food poisoning.” We whispered the entire conversation like eleven year olds trying to keep a secret from their parents, and we continued whispering like that until I finally told her that she HAD to at least tell Patrick. We’re both crazy stubborn Scorpios and we were arguing over it for weeks, but she held firm. Yeah, she actually managed to out-stubborn me.
Once everyone was finally clued in, I received an extremely fancy heart pendant necklace along with an official request to be their child’s Godmother. I felt like she was proposing (That’s how fancy the pendant is. Sometimes I’m a little hesitant to wear it.), but I appreciated the beauty of the gesture in the way it was intended.
Asking someone to be a Godparent is a big deal, and I was asked because after much deliberation, she & her husband could not think of a stronger, smarter, more capable, more inspirational woman to be a part of their child’s life. I was so taken aback by that, because those were the very words they used when asking. I don’t see myself the way other people do, so I was very moved and of course, I accepted. To me, it’s no big deal, to be a part of a child’s life is a blessing in any capacity, but to them it’s an immense gift and a relief that their child has someone else to go to if ever said child needs a neutral party, so to speak. It also provides them with the peace of mind that I’ll be there no matter what. They wanted someone who would always be the epitome of a role model to their child, who we soon found out was a girl.
It is VERY important for girls to have strong role models in their lives, both male and female. She is blessed with an extremely beautiful, talented mother and a father who would go to hell and back for her. Stefanie doesn’t have any sisters, she is the youngest of six siblings and the only girl in the family. Maybe that explains why we’ve been friends for so long, because we share a very loyal, very private sisterhood. I give Patrick a lot of credit because he has always told her how special and important our friendship is, has always encouraged her to fly out to see me if too much time has gone by without “girl time”, and has never, not once in the 15 years they’ve been married, behaved negatively toward me or acted as though there was no longer a place for me in her life simply because they are married. I respect that so much about him. Believe me when I say this is a big thing to me, because pretty much every friend I’ve ever had dropped me like a pile of shit the second they found a boyfriend, leave alone a husband. Not Stefanie. It’s not beneath her to tell Patrick to leave the room so we can talk, and it’s not beneath her to tell him to go and play golf because she needs me and only me. He never takes it personally and he is never offended or annoyed by my presence. Again, that tells you she’s truly got a good guy in her life and I am thankful for that because she deserves it. He knows what Stefanie and I both know, that there isn’t one single person in this world that can be every single thing you need at all times. Sometimes you need your life partner, sometimes you need a parent or a sibling, and sometimes you need the person who has known you before your growth spurts (be it physical, emotional, professional, as well as all the others), who knows your family, who knows what breaks your heart, who’s always known your middle name, who knows things no one else knows because that person has been present for so long, and they get it. As much as I could ever love a man and work hard every single day to be the best partner in life that I can be, I could never walk away from the people in my life that have helped shape who I am and the person I have become. In fact, I worry about the people that develop instant amnesia and then wonder why they’re all alone when that person turns out to be something they didn’t see coming barreling toward them like an Acela train, but I digress.
I’m partially responsible for my Goddaughter’s name, which will always make me smile because it’s as gorgeous as she is. I’ve loved this particular name for probably ten years or so. I knew I wouldn’t be using the name for my own children (I name to honor the dead, never the living.), so I gave one of the lead characters in my urban fantasy series this name. She ended up being Stefanie’s favorite character that I casually mentioned in passing when I first talked about “maybe writing my own urban fantasy novel some day”.
One day she finally asked me if it would be ok to use for the baby’s name. Not because she had no ideas of her own, but because she & Patrick were madly in love with what it meant and how strong a name it is. Did I want it for my own daughter?, was her first question, because if I did, they’d keep looking. Yeah, we’re still girls and we both know that sort of thing can become an issue with friends at times. I’ve seen people get into war-like fights over this sort of thing (the naming of children), friends and family alike stop speaking if one person “steals a name” from the other, especially if one had confided to the other while pregnant that this was the name that had been chosen. I had my ex-fiancee’ do this when he got married. He systematically chose two of the most important names I had picked out that he knew about, not just for his first child, but for both of them. It doesn’t just take lack of creativity to do something like that, it’s also a calculated, borderline evil thing to do to someone you once claimed to love. Any way, I told her I didn’t have anyone to name for with that initial, and that if she wanted it, she could have it. Yes, it is still the name of the character in my book(s).
In Hebrew the name translates to “God Is My Candle” and “Burning Light Of God”. She then asked me about naming for her brother who had passed away suddenly a few years prior, who was one of the kindest, most “shirt off your back” guys in the world, someone whom I miss dearly, and if I miss him, I can only imagine how much she misses him. We looked for middle names that started with his first initial, and came up with something truly fitting, and quite frankly, beautiful.
On March 10th 2011, Neriah Blaze officially entered all of our lives. They say “all babies are born with blue eyes”, but Neriah’s eyes have been the same color as her mother’s, a true grey, from day one. Her blonde, blue eyed Dad’s genes don’t stand a chance, she’s a little replica of Mommy from head to toe (Black hair, fair skin, and those sparkly grey eyes.), and both of her parents are extremely tall, so by the time she’s ten I fully expect she’ll be towering over me.
The little Pisces princess is smart, intuitive, empathetic, sweet, and kind. She’s also demanding, as I previously mentioned in my “Girl On Fire’ post back in December. She’s a Water Sign with two names that make reference to fire and light, so it’s interesting how she relates to that song, not knowing what her names mean just yet, or why they were chosen. And thankfully, she’s at that age where you’re not using her full name EVER, because she’s still sweet and chatty and not the least bit troublesome, but the terrible 2’s and terrible 3’s that people (parents, Grandparents, and child care professionals) talk about are surely around the corner as her personality continues to develop. I hope it’s a relatively smooth transition because she’s such a joy, and I long for the days when I can provide her with a satchel of baby cousins to play with.
On your 2nd birthday and always Neri, Aunt Li-Li loves you to pieces. One day you will read this and know why it’s important to acknowledge every birthday and milestone.
Happy Birthday my little flame.
Happy Purim!! I’m a day or so late in saying so due to the drama and stress going on my life at the moment, but it is still a heartfelt wish. If you do not know what Purim is or why it is celebrated, I strongly suggest a religious history lesson.
“Life is at its best when everything has fallen out of place, and you decide that you’re going to fight to get them right, not when everything is going your way and everyone is praising you.” ―Thisuri Wanniarachchi
“If writers stopped writing about what happened to them, then there would be a lot of empty pages.” -Elaine Liner
Hello my lovely readers:
I would be lying if I said these past few days without my little girl have been easy. They haven’t. In some ways the worst part is over, moving her body (a horrible thing. I reminded myself that she was still her and that I would do anything for her, otherwise I probably would have had a nervous breakdown.) and bringing her to the vet temporarily while I order a coffin and decide exactly where in the backyard she will go. It might seem morbid, but at least this way, I know who is visiting her grave and exactly where it is at all times. Her sister is buried at a cemetery and because I lost my Mom right after burying her, I haven’t been back out there. It’s not far from where I live now, it just opens up a lot of wounds. Burying is for the living, truly. I damn near had a coronary when I was asked twice by my vet’s office if I wanted her cremated. That’s like asking me if I’d like to personally experience the Holocaust. Yes, that’s the image that pops into my head every single time someone says the word “cremation”. I cannot burn anyone I have ever loved, and that includes my cat. (Ok, I could probably burn someone I didn’t particularly care for, but that’s a discussion for another day. I don’t care about being politically correct, I’m just me.)
Friday was solemn for me. Initially I went into a bit of cleaning frenzy. I tossed the place-mat where her food and water were in the kitchen. Not out of cruelty or anger, but because I was planning on tossing it anyway, losing her just gave me a reason to do it sooner rather than later. I cleared her food and water from the mat upstairs, but that particular mat is just a few months old, all it needs is to be wiped down and put away for the future. I tossed a small scratching post. It was nothing fancy and I know new kittens won’t touch it because they’ll smell her pheremones and start looking for her. That’s only natural. I’m not stupid enough to think that tossing those few things I was unattached to will mean anything, but it was something I had to do.
My next step was walking into the loft space which separates my room from the other half of the top of my home. I’ve had boxes sitting there since I moved in. I went through some things and threw stuff out. I recycled an old storage container and turned it into a container for the weekly recycling that I haven’t done in years. That’s a positive change, right? I then tossed all the empty beauty products I had into it for recycling. Soon after an empty soda bottle and iced tea bottle would join. Progress. Sometimes it comes in baby steps. I am planning on donating some clothes and home items that I do not want/need or cannot use. I take great care of my clothes, so whoever gets this stuff is basically getting brand new clothing. Helping someone in need is never a crime.
The people closest to me have expressed some concerns. Apparently my methods of coping are bizarre to those who don’t understand that we all cope in our own ways, at our own rate, but that we have to do it on our own in many respects. I’ve been asked to leave my home for a while, as if that will erase her memory somehow. I have been asked to “remember to eat”, as if I have ever gone on some kind of starvation diet in the past when I’ve lost a loved one. I’ve buried over 60 people in my life and this will be my third cat, I’m not “new” to death or loss. I have been reminded that “a few drinks won’t hurt”, and that I should be using something to “numb the pain”. That only managed to piss me off. One, I’m not a big drinker. The only time I actually buy alcohol is when I know someone who drinks will be visiting and staying with me, or if I need something for a recipe. I don’t turn to drugs and alcohol as a means of coping with anything in my life. Suppressing what I think and feel is to lie to myself, and I won’t do that.
Everyone that has expressed concern means well. No one is saying anything to hurt me, they just have a point of view that I don’t particularly agree with. That’s ok, and I’m not taking anything personally. Just as they should not take it personally as I choose to do things my own way.
I prefer not to have my feelings psycho-analyzed right now. I’m a very extreme person. I don’t deal in a lot of mundane thoughts or feelings. I understand that this is going to be a long, painful process. I understand that every time I put my necklace on, which bears her name (The design is called Who Do You Love? and has an owl hand-stamped on it. Her name is also on it and the smaller one that has a crescent moon has her sister’s name on it. I’ve had it for a few years and I love it. Now it’s my daily necklace in place of the family crest design with my initial on it.), it’s going to sting a bit. I washed a load of her blankets yesterday and it hurt to find one lone strand of cat hair on my shoulder a few hours later. That’s where it’s supposed to be though. I have her brushes, one of which she stole from my purse a few years ago. My little mini-me was such a girl’s girl. She loved to be brushed, she loved being told how beautiful she was, loved being told how beautiful & silky her coat was, and my brother always said she smelled exactly like me. No matter what I did, she somehow became the second wearer of my perfume each day. I’ve been wearing that perfume for a little over 10 years. I love it, but now I love it for the both of us. I have her blanket, which I had specially made for her five years ago. I refuse to part with it, I may have to be buried with it.
A few people wanted to know when I was going to adopt again. I really gave that a lot of thought. I’ve perused Petfinder’s web-site quite a bit, and I did stop at a local PetSmart to see if they had any kittens (they had older cats. I’m looking for true kittens, 8-10 weeks old.). In the end, I made the decision to give myself sufficient time to kitten-proof the house. Kittens are unlike older cats that are already calmer and set in their ways. They’re curious by nature, they want to smell and jump on EVERYTHING, and even with enzymatic cleaner used on my carpet, they are going to smell that another cat lived here. By the time they are six months old they will have free run of the house and I am sure they will do exactly what she did when we moved in, which is mark every single wall and piece of furniture as her property. I, myself, was marked as cat property a good 50 times a day, lest a stray cat attempt to thieve me away on my way to the car, mailbox, or the grocery store. I’m still convinced she had some kind of kitty Lojack attached to me so that she knew where I was at all times. Eventually, they will do the same. I wonder if the kitty Lojack gets re-registered in their names or if a new “device” is installed?! LOL.
I have decided to honor her by adopting another Tortoiseshell. I’m truly in love with this unique, but unofficial breed. Many cats can have Tortie coloring, but my little girl’s coloring and very unique tri-colored eyes are what I’m looking for in a 2nd Tortie. The eyes are rare, she had grey eyes for the first six months or so of her life, and then they became gold with blue and green bordering outside the gold. You couldn’t always see it because, like me, her eyes were almost always fully dilated. Not all Tortie’s will have her eye color, but I know I will find one who was every bit as special as she was. Special and different, because no one and nothing will ever replace her. I hope to add the new addition(s) by the end of the year.
My other way of honoring her is with two small tattoos. They will go underneath mine, that way our lives, spirits, and futures will remain intertwined. I am on the hunt for the perfect, ultra feminine looking font. If anyone has any recommendations, please send me a message and/or a photo, or leave me a comment so that I can get in touch with you.
So yes, I am coping. I have good days and bad days. I will eventually be ok. I don’t think the pain will ever disappear entirely, I think it lives within you and becomes a part of who you are and how you grow. People talk about broken hearts, but it is the losses we experience in life that are the deepest cuts. We either slowly bleed to death or we somehow suture ourselves together and keep moving. It’s not easy, looking at it too closely is extremely painful, but eventually we all hit that fight or flight moment in life where we decide which direction we’re going in. I’m a fighter. I am the pitbull of my family, the one who will be the epitome of loyal, but will rip you to shreds if she has to. Unfortunately, running never solves anything, so fight I shall.