Is the summer swimming by?
Last week was so hot it felt like August. This weekend the air is cooler and there is less humidity. Feels wonderful.
Not sure how the weather is where you are but enjoy it if you can.
This is my new tat. See the previous post explaining the meaning of the semi-colon. I found this image online and it hit me as apropos for me. I’ve been touch by suicide many times. Attempts and successes of friends. My own attempts. And the thoughts of friends and family who were close but brought back to the light.
Remember, suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Only by living and supporting each other can we survive. Go hug a friend today! That person may need it more than you know.
This is my daughter’s new (from yesterday) tattoo. A very important message.
For those of you who do not know, the semi-colon is a symbol for suicide awareness. The butterfly can be a symbol of rebirth. And the words speak for themselves.
The most crucial message to teach our children is love. Especially loving oneself. And in order to teach this, the parent must live it.
People often ask writers how are they inspired. Life can be an inspiration. Some of my work comes from dreams. I suppose I have a vivid imagination. Last night I dreamt about a woman on vacation with her two small children. A couple approach and ask about her kids. Then she notices there is a baby doll in one car seat of their car and another older look child doll in another. She tries to get away but they take one of her children and pursue her to get the other.
I really dreamed this right down to her changing the diaper of the baby and her mother trying to help her get away from the bad guys.
Weird. I don’t know why or how I dream this stuff but it helps me with new ideas.
Pain and sorrow rode with us to the church that day. My fully engorged breasts reminded me of what I had lost. Most of the day was a blur. A moment of my eldest daughter’s face filled with questions. All others wore somber expressions. People had no idea what to say on occasions like those. What do you say to a mother who lost her child before even meeting her little one?
My mother walked to the back of the SUV. The gentleman from the funeral home pulled the tiny white casket out of the back and handed it to my mother. Part of me still wishes I had done this last one thing for my baby. At the time, I was afraid of falling. Not just by tripping. I was afraid my whole being would break.
The days leading up to the moment Mom put the casket down were horrendous. I lost my child and nearly lost my husband in the process. People made the effort to comfort me, give me advice. Even if a person has had a miscarriage or stillbirth cannot understand completely what goes through the mind of another.
His cousin had told me to do a c-section. He told me how many losses she’d had. I didn’t give one ounce about what she had to say. Not once was she twenty-eight weeks along. My baby was a fully formed human being when I held her breathless body in my aching arms. No one has lived my life. No other person could feel what I was feeling in that one instant that changed my life.
I am grateful for my feet for even with pain, they allow me to stand up for my family and friends.
I am grateful for my legs that help me to get to my daughter when she needs me.
I am grateful for my arms as they help me show affection with hugs to my beloved ones.
I am grateful to you for reading my books, my posts, and still being my friend, confidant, reader, or whatever relationship we have.
I wish I could pay back all the kindness you have shown me. All I can do is say, “Thank You.”