The only sounds I wish to hear in my dreams are the sound of the rain strumming against the window, the sound of your breathing, the sound of your heart fluttering in your chest.
The only feelings I wish to feel while I dream are your arms wrapped around me, the sensation of our lips meeting in the dark, the warmth of your breath on my skin, the rhythm of our hearts beating together.
The only sight I wish to see in my dreams is your eyes.
The only wish I will make in my dreams is to wake up lying next to you.
2.10.2009
2.09.2009
clinging to the tick-tock, tick-tock of life
time
getting carried away
no control
getting faster
further out of control with every second
is it running out?
will i get anywhere any faster?
despite the speed will i be stuck?
stuck in a world in which i am fighting to find my place
getting carried away
no control
getting faster
further out of control with every second
is it running out?
will i get anywhere any faster?
despite the speed will i be stuck?
stuck in a world in which i am fighting to find my place
2.04.2009
Something Old. Something New. Something Borrowed. Something Blue. Something Stolen...
I was robbed at ages 1 1/2, 19, & 20. I was even robbed before I was born.
My paternal grandfather died when my father was about 18 years old. Before my father even met my mother.
My maternal grandfather died when I was just a baby. The only memories I have of him are pictures & stories from my mother.
My paternal grandmother died when I was 19 years old. Her death, I suppose you could say, was harder to handle - but also easier. I was at school when I found out - my sophomore year of college. But I quickly went home to be with my family.
My maternal grandmother died when I was 20 years old [about 7 months after Nan]. Her death was even more difficult to handle because she had lived with us for 5 months before she died. I like to think we had a wonderful summer with Grandmom. She was happy before she died. But what made her last months with us & her death more difficult, in my opinion, was Beth's abandoning her. I understand she felt overwhelmed - believe me, I understand feeling overwhelmed - but I would never attempt suicide while my elderly mother was in the next room, helpless. [I wouldn't attempt suicide at all - no matter how bad life seemed to be].
I also understand that Beth doesn't see that she did anything wrong. In fact, she was right to bring Grandmom to us - she should never have brought her to live in Baltimore to begin with!
The day Beth brought Grandmom to us [without even saying goodbye to her own mother] was the day she died in my heart. She is no longer my aunt. My ties with her died with Grandmom.
Like I said, I have been robbed in my life. I was fortunate enough to have known 2 of the greatest grandmothers in the world; lucky enough to call them my grandmothers.
I do wish I had gotten the chance to meet & know my grandfathers. They were 2 such extraordinary men & I know some of their stories. But I long for the memories of sitting on my grandfathers' laps & hearing their stories firsthand.
Pop [Mom's Dad] ran away & joined the Navy at age 16. He lied about his age & was found out after about 3 months. He was sent home to his mother [his father had been killed in WWII] & waited till he could legally join up. I've heard the story from my great-grandmother, my grandmother, & my mother. But I would love to hear Pop's version of the story - to know what he was thinking about when he suddenly ran away from home.
Pop [Dad's Dad] was born in Huddersfield, England [not too far from Manchester - 2 hours from London]. His father was Irish, his mother English. My dad has told me that Pop had a wonderful singing voice - he had been trained as a young man. My dad has also shared a childhood memory of his own: he didn't realize his father had an accent till he was about 10 years old.
Pop worked on & drove the trolleys in Lawncrest [Philadelphia]. It was because of one of these trolleys that Pop lost his legs [a horrible accident that happened years before my father was born].
I wish I knew the sounds of my grandfathers' voices. I envy my older brother for his fishing trips with Pop [Mom's Dad]. I envy some of my older cousins, who were lucky enough to meet Pop [Dad's Dad]. They were lucky enough to know my grandfathers. For that, I am eternally jealous.
My paternal grandfather died when my father was about 18 years old. Before my father even met my mother.
My maternal grandfather died when I was just a baby. The only memories I have of him are pictures & stories from my mother.
My paternal grandmother died when I was 19 years old. Her death, I suppose you could say, was harder to handle - but also easier. I was at school when I found out - my sophomore year of college. But I quickly went home to be with my family.
My maternal grandmother died when I was 20 years old [about 7 months after Nan]. Her death was even more difficult to handle because she had lived with us for 5 months before she died. I like to think we had a wonderful summer with Grandmom. She was happy before she died. But what made her last months with us & her death more difficult, in my opinion, was Beth's abandoning her. I understand she felt overwhelmed - believe me, I understand feeling overwhelmed - but I would never attempt suicide while my elderly mother was in the next room, helpless. [I wouldn't attempt suicide at all - no matter how bad life seemed to be].
I also understand that Beth doesn't see that she did anything wrong. In fact, she was right to bring Grandmom to us - she should never have brought her to live in Baltimore to begin with!
The day Beth brought Grandmom to us [without even saying goodbye to her own mother] was the day she died in my heart. She is no longer my aunt. My ties with her died with Grandmom.
Like I said, I have been robbed in my life. I was fortunate enough to have known 2 of the greatest grandmothers in the world; lucky enough to call them my grandmothers.
I do wish I had gotten the chance to meet & know my grandfathers. They were 2 such extraordinary men & I know some of their stories. But I long for the memories of sitting on my grandfathers' laps & hearing their stories firsthand.
Pop [Mom's Dad] ran away & joined the Navy at age 16. He lied about his age & was found out after about 3 months. He was sent home to his mother [his father had been killed in WWII] & waited till he could legally join up. I've heard the story from my great-grandmother, my grandmother, & my mother. But I would love to hear Pop's version of the story - to know what he was thinking about when he suddenly ran away from home.
Pop [Dad's Dad] was born in Huddersfield, England [not too far from Manchester - 2 hours from London]. His father was Irish, his mother English. My dad has told me that Pop had a wonderful singing voice - he had been trained as a young man. My dad has also shared a childhood memory of his own: he didn't realize his father had an accent till he was about 10 years old.
Pop worked on & drove the trolleys in Lawncrest [Philadelphia]. It was because of one of these trolleys that Pop lost his legs [a horrible accident that happened years before my father was born].
I wish I knew the sounds of my grandfathers' voices. I envy my older brother for his fishing trips with Pop [Mom's Dad]. I envy some of my older cousins, who were lucky enough to meet Pop [Dad's Dad]. They were lucky enough to know my grandfathers. For that, I am eternally jealous.
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