(Un)like me: Ecclesiastes 3:1-8: To everything there is a season, a bullet, and a breath.

I was reminded of this particular item from the bible yesterday.  This has distinct meaning as symbolic of my grandparents and through it the lessons that this and they taught me over the years.

…the impending snow storm, also increased its literal significance.

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Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 ……..To Everything there is a season.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:

²     a time to be born and a time to die,     a time to plant and a time to uproot, ³     a time to kill and a time to heal,     a time to tear down and a time to build, ⁴     a time to weep and a time to laugh,     a time to mourn and a time to dance, ⁵     a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,     a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, ⁶     a time to search and a time to give up,     a time to keep and a time to throw away, ⁷     a time to tear and a time to mend,     a time to be silent and a time to speak, ⁸     a time to love and a time to hate,     a time for war and a time for peace.

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I remember one of my first readings I did at school for mass, as a small child, was this one.  I remember my grandmother being there and i sitting with her after i read, and her expressing that was one of her favorite readings.  I remember reading it for my grandfather’s funeral.  (I do not remember my grandmother’s funeral-I consciously and knowingly blocked that out.)  I read it over and over and over trying to heal from the death of my baby, and I read it now and again just for a peace of mind that things happen for a reason, a season, and just because.  I don’t need to have the control to know why me or what if and what now.  I just need to be reminded that time passes, the seasons change, and life, ultimately goes on.  But, you can always keep a piece of yesterday.

This all came to be, over a long process-an almost 20 year process beginning when i was about 12. My dad’s mother died when i was 13, but we were never that close.  I was sad, but it was not until my Grandfather (my mother;s father) died when i was 15, did my world really get racked.  We were close.  I was so very close with him and my grandmother.  He taught me to shoot a bb gun, to fish/clean and fillet it, he taught me to grin and bear it, bought me my first pocket knife, taught me to paint, to build things, and to be strong and responsible for my actions.  He was in the military and according to me and my childhood fascinations could do EVERYTHING and ANYTHING!!!!  He died during my freshman year of high school, after falling in to a coma during one of my varsity soccer games.  After his death-nothing was the same.  His funeral was devastating.  It was also huge and people came from all over.  I read this bible passage at his funeral.  I managed not to cry at all.  Something in me turned off, and i remember distinctly the end of feeling inside me when it did.  At his burial they did a 21 gun salute.  I was moved-i wanted that for my kids someday.  I was so proud.  I collected the gold bullet shell casings, and handed them out to my mom and aunts and the like.  I kept one for me.  I keep it with me.  It is a symbol of strength, sacrifice, and devotion.

My grandmother taught me to cook and taught me to think.  It was ok to ask why, but sometimes it was easier on the soul just to believe.  To tell too much truth was bound to get someone hang’d.  She taught me to read and read some more, to write and write some more and to learn and never stop. She told me things happen for a reason, that does not make it easier, but they still do.  Why is not important, but rather what you do next reveals who you are as a person. She taught me that the child i selfishly brought on this planet did not ask to be here-so it was my duty to the child to do right by it.  She taught me to count my blessings, but never remain satisfied with life-there was always more to do and learn.  There was a time and a place for everything, and to everything a season under the sun.  And on a hot July night in 2005, while bartending-i got  call the end was near.  I was there to witness the last succession of breaths she took before her beautiful soul was free.  And that is where I stopped remembering.  That night among both selfish tears and genuine happiness for her, i decided that breath would be the last thing I remember.

I have not returned to the cemetery where they are buried, since she was buried.  I in fact blocked her burial out completely.  Her phone number is still programmed in my phone, her address in my address book.  I know she and my grandfather are gone, but I don’t want to see the reality of their names carved in stone.  I am not ready for that still.  I like to think of them just in the next room, or in their house and i just can’t find the time to get there- but that it is there if i want to. Both were the voice of very different reasons in my head.  Both were so very strong.  Both overcame different hardships in their youth.  Both were so very smart, hard-working, and happy with their lives.  Both of them drank and enjoyed social lives and times, my grandfather smoke cigars and drank orange pop with a straw.  They lived good and happy lives.  They gave, they received.  They d not take more than they needed, and they alwys paid id back and forward.  They lived in faith and died with faith.

So today, I spend much of my time thinking about the subtlety for which their directions and statements stayed and continue to creep up in my mind.  During all sorts of issues, or struggles, or what have you- all I think about are the things that they seemed to just know.  The questions now I wish I would have been an adult or have understood better then to ask.  And with a breath in my mind, and a bullet in my pocket, confident in a season for everything, I push on. Time marches on, with you and I and after you and I have been laid to rest, butthe memory remains and continues to teach.

Until next time,

C

PS: Dear you,

You know who you are, you know what this means, you know the importance, and you know where I am.

The Ex in the Element.

My ex and i have been divorced officially for three years.  He left me two years before that, I just did not have the heart to file  the papers sooner, nor did he.  Our relationship from day one was a series of red flags and questionable pairings, but to us both there was something worth working for and sharing, at least for a little while.  We shot-gun wedding’d it in 2003.  The following year was terrible-we lost our child, we lost our jobs due to the corporation going bankrupt, we were nearly evicted, I was pregnant again high risk, and we were broke.  He was an alcoholic, and extremely social, he loved his friends and the bar life.  I was a niaeve, 18-year-old in love with a tough, fast talking, Marine, 7 years my senior.  He pulled me out of my element, told me it was ok to let loose and have fun, and just plain live, without worry.  I was a college student, and his ticket to having a “sugar momma”.  He always worked very hard.  Many times he held down two jobs, one at a machine shop and one at a bar.  He loved the bar world, on both sides.  He always did his best to provide, but he drank too much always.  I tried for years to get him help, to refocus his mind to schooling, and to other things, but to no avail….back to the bar he went.  When we were comfortable financially and I asked him to give up bartending, he said no.  When I asked him to seek counciling for the third or fourth time, after i found a condom in his car, he said ok, but instead of going to AA, I followed him to other bars.  As did I have someone else follow him another time to make sure it was not just a one time thing. we went to counseling, he went through one full session and walked out of the second and stopped going because he did not like what she said to him, and I completed the cycle.  Then for christmas 2007, he dropped a bomb on us.    He re-enlisted in the service and left the following feb.  He returned for short “weeks” sporadically, and then would continue asking me why i stayed married to him.  Then in 2009, we decided to meet up one more time, on his terms, in Cali and see if there was anything left to save.  There was not.  we were two different people, he had been unfaithful, and would not give up drinking, and that was not something i was ok with or our kids dealing with.  I came home, I took a month to think and work things out in my head, and research what was the best way to not harm the children long tem, and after one last yelling match on the phone, I filed the papers. I was in denial, I did not want to admit i failed or enabled him to live this life, and there was no where for me to really go with him from there.

The divorce was very simple and was done short and quick.  Basically it came down to he wanted the stuff, and I wanted the kids.  He signed off rights to the kids, had/has no set visitation other than christmas day, and the rest is history.  Sometimes he calls and says I have a free day can I take the kids? And if nothing is going on I hand them over.  Our way is non conventional but for us it works.  He is the “fun guy” and i am the strict mean mom.  I am there for the everyday and the all day and the sickness and health, etc.  he gets them when they are at their best for the fun of it.  I have forgiven him for the way our world ended, and forgiven myself for being complacent and enabling, and failing. I have learned from my mistake.

And sometimes, he calls and says hey! I am working at the restaurant, you want to bring the girls in?  Many times we go, I still enjoy watching him tend bar.  It definitely is what he is good at.  You can see the focus, the fun, and a man in his element.   He gets paid to do what he loves-talk and drink. And he is happy with his life.  And I am happy for him.

Somewhere between Heaven and Hell, is life.

“We all leave footprints in the sand.  Would you rather be remembered as a big heel or a great soul?”

My life has not been easy, mostly because of decisions I made as a teenager, residual.  However, when it comes down to it, however you want to judge another person, make sure you know them before you judge them.  By know them, I mean interact with them, look at the physical facts, not take the words of another as evidence of your cause.   People are whom they are.   

For a long time in my life I was angry.  I was angry at things out of my control.  At the time I did not understand this, nor did my age and maturity allow for it.  For a long time i let my mistakes make me feel guilty, and that guilt drove me to act for others, while hindering the need to learn and grow as me.  “But no one was going to tell me, and if they did, screw them…..”  Now, I can see that that denial and anger and spite and guilt allowed me to be controlled, pent up, and angry.

But things have changed over the last few years, and i am starting to see things more compassionately.

Things are what they are. 

Live and let live. 

The universe is large, and life is short.  Don’t waste your time on petty drama.  To each his own. You dont know what they need to be happy.

If someone shows the worst in themselves, don’t allow them the result in bringing that out in anyone else or ones self included by retaliation.  You cannot control anothers actions, only your own.  Have patience with the unjustified, do on to others they way you hope they do on to you, even if it takes time for them to get to that point.  If necessary walk away. 

Good things take time, good things are not rushed and are worth it in the end.

Do not just learn from your mistakes, learn from the mistakes of others. And be patient, we all make them.

To happier days of Patience and compassion,

C