I wrote this once...

 "Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, It might have been."John Greenleaf Whittier.

I think and reflect. Of what might have been.Of what could have been.  But of what will never be. 

And I guess, those thoughts are ones of melancholic sadness.  It is always hard to think of the loss of the potential. 

Especially when we know exactly what that potential was or could have been.

It could have been. It might have been. It never will be.

And I write it again now, for the very same reason, almost 10 years on.

Different time. 

Different person

But the very same loss, similar feelings. The same realisation.

Life moves in strange ways. Not always good ones. All I can take from this is knowing that I’ve listened to the part of me that has said “this is not ok”

I will take that. There’s nothing else to take right now.

There you'll be . . .

8 years ago. 

8 years ago today, she took her last breath.

8 years ago, my Mum, my best friend lost her battle.

We were there by her side, our hearts shattering into a million tiny pieces, so many unfinished conversations, the regrets of words that were never shared.

And yet, in some small way, I shall be thankful that we were given the chance to say goodbye, we were given the chance to share thoughts and memories and say "I love you" from the day that we were told there was nothing more they could do, they said a couple of weeks and it wasn't even that. 

I spent every moment I could with her in the last 6 weeks of her time with us, we sat and watched the spring flowers outside grow, the lambs making their first appearance into the fields.  On the morning of the day she passed we'd watched a wild deer running through the fields, it had stopped and it appeared to be looking in at us, I still remember that moment as clear as day. 

Cancer, you bastard!

You robbed us even of the extra few days they said we'd have, right to the last, you took her away from us. 

Her last spoken words will haunt me forever as she woke on that morning and she whispered "I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore." And from there we knew, that this would be the last day that we would share with her, and my heart filled with a pain that no amount of words can or will ever describe.

While in the depths of grief after she passed, I certainly felt as if she'd taken so much with her, as the rawness eases from the loss of someone, when the edges are not so sharp and jagged, you realise that they have left you with so much.  Memories, many precious memories and the love that fills the heart.  The passing of time can never take that away just as it cannot take the void away that exists. 

Her dying took so much away. 


There are two songs which just remind me of her so much . . . this first one has such heart-breaking words and yet they are so beautiful and in fact, also make me think of others who have been close to me who I have lost, including my friend who recently died.  Because the words are so true there too.

"Every place we ever walked and
Everywhere we talked, I miss you
You never leave my mind
So much of you is left behind"

This song also reminds me of my Mum....

"I'll keep a part of you with me
And everywhere I am there you'll be......"

8 years may have passed.  Some days it seems like only yesterday, not a day goes passed when something happens I wish I could tell her about.  

I miss her.  Everyday. 

My heart is her home. She will live there forever.

Destiny.

We heard the news yesterday, that the coroner has released the body following the death of my friend.  A moment of sadness, but also a moment which means that family and friends can now make plans to say a final farewell.  A farewell to someone who was special to a lot of people.

They were a friend, who had touched life in many different ways.

Every person you encounter in your life, whether it is significant or not, leaves an imprint on your soul… from the tiniest speck to a small mark to a huge spot. Sometimes they are like wounds that need time to heal, and sometimes they are like kisses that you wish you had more of. Everyone is important…they help to shape us to be the people that we need to be to be able find our true happiness.

They couldn't find their happiness in life and that makes my heart ache so very much for them.  They used to say be who you are, believe in yourself, be the person that you want to be and you will find happiness and ultimately the person you are meant to share it with.  My heart aches that they never found that happiness.

They once said to me, enjoy the journey in getting to that place, enjoy the people you encounter along the way.  Each person comes into life for a reason even if we may not see it at the time, they may be there for only a short period of time, but there's still a reason, it just may take us time to figure out what that reason is.  And sometimes, that reason may not bring happy times, it may bring sadness and heartache and pain and that makes it doubly hard to ever understand why that person has come into our lives. 

We shared this conversation again on the night before they took their life, and their words echo in my mind.

And this parting comment . . .

There will be a time that journey will reach it's destination, a moment when you are truly happy, when you are loving but more so truly loved back, then you will know that you have arrived at your destiny, that the people you've met along the way were only part of that journey, and when you find that happiness, that love, know that it's your destiny and you've arrived at your destination.  If you're not truly loved back, if you're not truly happy, then it's not the destination and the journey is not over.

My friend was part of my journey, a journey where I've not reached my destination . . . their words will remain with me always, I wish that they were still taking their own journey, but hope with all my heart, that in their destination they are at peace.

Tears of remembrance

Tears of remembrance

roll streaks of blackness

down her face.

Smearing the memories and

pain onto a

canvas of pale skin.

A hand, a tissue, cannot wipe 

away the sadness or

memories that engulf.

She looks at the page before her,

no words of

sentimentality just a

reality of pain and sadness.

A silent tear freefalls

onto the journal notebook

that sits before her,

the place where she writes her

innermost thoughts

and depths and feelings.

A silent tear that smudges

the beautiful words she

has written.

Blurring them into 

streaks of

blackness which match the

canvas of her skin.

Tears of remembrance.

Of sadness.

Of loss.

As she searches for

words of harmony and

beauty,

of warmth,

of love.

And I hate it

There are moments, moments like this, like today, where there's a black cloud filling the day.  The sky outside may be clear and blue, the sun maybe shining, but here inside my head, over me, surrounding me is a big black cloud of fucking horrible funk.

And I hate it.

And I can't shake it.

I know it's a whole host of reasons, the arrival of Mothers Day which brings a whole host of feelings to me.  Throw in two nights of terrible insomnia, and the wonderful feelings of spending a matter of hours with someone followed by the drop and reality that it won't be for a while.   

And it all brings about a cacophony of emotions and feelings that feel like a stormy sea bashing at the sea defences. My defences.  I feel storm battered.

And I hate it.

And I want to turn the clock back to how I felt in the early hours of Thursday morning, the moment where I had an arm draped across my chest, a head sleeping on my shoulder, the weight of which weighed heavily but just brought about a sense of closeness in the darkness of the night that even when sleep eluded me I was filled with such a sweet and wonderful feeling.  And that seems so far away from where I am right now.

And I hate it.

I didn't sleep well last night. 

Neither did I the night before.  Instead the past two nights have been filled with a whole host of difficult feelings, painful reflections, I've had memories flood back in of the moment that people have literally drifted out of life, my witnessing their taking their last breath.  Haunted by the recollection of the time I almost drowned, I led there feeling just as I did at that moment, the way it felt as the water slowly filled my lungs as I saw life, my own life slowly ebb away.  I've had recollections of times in my life where it's been filled with such a sense of deep loss.

I feel haunted by the sense of loss, emptiness and sadness.  I feel like I'm drowning under a big black cloud.

And I hate it. 

And I'm trying to find the rays of light coming through the cloud and yet I am filled with a sense of foreboding, a sense of fear, as if something is going to go tearing through life and rip something else away from my heart. 

Right now, my heart feels vulnerable.  *I* feel vulnerable and quite alone. (A very rare thing for me to feel!)

And I hate it. 

Not the feeling of my own vulnerability, so much as that of my heart.  There is a beauty and a strength and a power in being vulnerable, of opening yourself up to someone and being vulnerable with them, to them, to the feelings you have.  But this heaviness, this darkness, this sense of emptiness that is enshrouding right now is quite overwhelming. 

And I hate it.

And my goodness, I'd give anything right now to transport me back to those early hours of Thursday morning, for that sense of warmth and closeness and just "being" in that moment. The closeness of skin, the closeness of feeling and watching him sleep, watching him breath, but just feeling. That moment.

But, the reality? Is that I'm as far away from that moment as I possibly could be.

Instead, I'm drifting into the darkness of a storm, the depths of funk that have come out of nowhere.  I feel as if I'm in a "drop", I feel disconnected in a way I don't want to be disconnected and yet, I can't disconnect from these horrible feelings.

And I fucking hate it!

The fire

"In everyone's life, at some time our inner fire goes out.  It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit."
Albert Schweister

This quote, these words will not mean a great deal to many people. But I came across these words in the depths of last night when a really bad night of insomnia prevented me from sleeping.  When so many thoughts, questions without answers passed through my mind.

They speak to me.

They are close to words I've recently spoken. Of bonfires, and flames and bellows.   I'm sat here right now, watching the day begin to dawn, the light starting to creep into the sky, the birds outside beginning to wake with their morning song and I realise that my fire had gone out.

That my fire had been rekindled. And while someone has come along and thrown water over it, for whatever reason that may be, that it is still there, still burning in the embers and not totally extinguished.

This week sees it being 5 years since I lost my Mum. Her passing has left a void that is felt every day.  We lost another family member this week. A dear friend has been told that the tumour on her liver has been joined by several others, that her body is being attacked by cancer, just as it attacked and finally took my Mum from me.  Sometimes, words are just so hard to find. Words are sometimes impossible to find.

And I feel guilty that my focus for a little while was taken by the flame, by the warmth, by the way the flames could dance as the inner spirit is woken from it's dormant state.  But I liked how it felt. Liked how it made me feel. It made me see that it was, that it is possible, however short lived for the spirit to be really felt. For the things, the feelings, the wants and needs and desires to be felt.

There is a real deep sense of loss for many things right now.  These past few days have added to that too. And those feelings, are probably just enough to put the fire out. 

Just not yet.

Just not right now.  Maybe tomorrow.

Sometimes I wonder....

Sometimes I wonder.

I wonder what goes through someone's mind, or why life must be so amazingly lacking for some, that they take steps to quite literally take something away from someone else.

I don't get it.


*sigh*

You can have hope for something and it can be gone in the blink of an eye. A week of really difficult days, sad family news and "this".

I didn't need this right now. I didn't need "this" full stop. It's not what I wanted at all and I really don't know why...why some things happen...why someone may do what the choose to do.

I didn't need "this" at anytime but certainly not now. But that's life I guess.

It can be so crap at times :(

*sigh*

Dreaming

I had a dream last night.

The whole events of "letting go" as I wrote about HERE in April of last year replayed themselves in my mind.   And I have woken this morning feeling that whole sense of emptiness that overwhelmed me at that moment I stood up and walked away, the moment that the heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

It was as if it happened only yesterday, and yet it seems a lifetime ago.   But I am somewhat taken aback at how fresh those memories are, the feelings, the emotions, the sadness, of how vivid the look of pain in his eyes can still haunt so many months later.

I know what caused it to be in my dreams, I know that something happened yesterday, something that someone said, was just like hearing something from all that time ago.  Same words. Same sentiment. Different person.

I am not sure how JoJo and I have not crossed paths since last November, in fact, I thought I saw him pass outside my office window as I daydreaming out of it this morning.  And it is strange how he doesn't come to mind and yet not only last night did I relive that whole moment, and then today, I had a fleeting glimpse of someone who was so much like him pass outside the window.

Someone commented on a post about JoJo recently, saying that I gave him the gift of opening him up to be the person he was, so he could be the person he wanted to be, that I had accepted him in a way that others close to him hadn't. But that, however hard, letting him go was, that was also a gift to him.

But at times, even now, it doesn't feel like a gift.

The sadness of his eyes can haunt, I know that it hurt him, and yet it was the last thing that I would ever want to do on an emotional level (hurting him from a sadistic point of view is a completely different kettle of fish), but, I know that it did.  And yet, I know it was the right thing, and I hate that there is a little seed of doubt from the dream I had last night as to whether it could have been different.

Because I know it could not have been. 

Of course it couldn't.  Not really. No matter how much we may want something to "be", we cannot make it "be" if it really stands no chance of ever being.

Yes we can make things happen, we can make things work, but, only if they are on the same page, wanting the same things, needing the same things.  And he and I weren't, we didn't.  And it still makes me feel somewhat sad, in a melancholic way, of having to let go so completely, so totally. 

With such total finality.

I miss the conversations we would have, the way we would explore the depths of his mind, finding an understanding for his longings, his needs, the things for which he carried so much shame.   I miss the times we laughed, the times we shared, I miss his vulnerability and the way his eyes would drop, the way his cheeks would blush and burn.  The way he would plead for more and then beg to stop.  The conflict of his desires battling at force with the thoughts in his mind.

But despite that, or even because of all of that, it was the best thing for him.

Yes I know.

But, that aside, there's that little tiny part of me that sometimes wished that it didn't have to be that way. We could have continued to share so much, but there would always have been the things missing from what we needed, I didn't want to resent him, I didn't want him to resent me.   I could have taken almost what I wanted, but couldn't do that to him.

Blegh! Dreams.

How difficult they can be at times, re-living a situation, a moment in time that was always best left in the past.   And it was. It is.  And I need to shake this feeling. 

At times like this, insomnia and not being able to dream is a little more appealing! 

It might have been.

"Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, It might have been."

John Greenleaf Whittier.

I think and reflect. Of what might have been.  Of what could have been.  But of what will never be.  And I guess, those thoughts are ones of melancholic sadness.  It is always hard to think of the loss of the potential.  Especially when we know exactly what that potential was or could have been.

It could have been. It might have been. It never will be.

  

Letting go

You didn't ask, but tentatively your hand reached out to my own that was resting on the table.  And gently your fingers found their way around my hand, your grip tightening with every passing second.

Our drinks remained untouched, the ice slowly melting, watering the drinks down even more.  Words remained unsaid.

I had wanted to take my hand away.  I didn't want to give you anything to hold onto; there was nothing to hold on to.

You squeezed my hand, I could sense the pleading within your touch, the way you tried to gain a response from me as you stroked my hand with your thumb.  I tried to resist the sparks that it sent through my body.  I was desperate not to let you know that my stomach was in knots, that although the electricity between us was clearly felt, it was not enough.  That it could never be enough, especially when the things that were wanted were oh so much more.  I know that while we could give so much, it would always fall short.  We would always be both left unfulfilled.  Cheating each other out of what we ultimately wanted.  We would always feel shortchanged.  And that gave room for unhappiness, resentment even.  


It was better this way. Even if it didn't feel like it.

We didn't notice the people around us, those who came and went.  We didn't notice the people that passed by, the ones who sat nearby or indeed anyone else.  We didn't notice the people on the other side of the room who sat and watched us and the painfully sad moment that we were engulfed within.  I continued to look ahead, not needing to glance in your direction, not needing to look at you to witness the sadness and begging from your eyes.

I couldn't bare to see you this way, I couldn't bare how you just couldn't let go.  I couldn't bare farewells and goodbyes.  But we knew that was what was coming.  We both knew it was what was needed.  And yet we both knew it wasn't as easy as saying goodbye.

Your eyes caught mine.  And the emotions that came from your eyes tore at my heart.  Your eyes screamed and begged and yet there was no sound.  Your hand gripped my own tighter pleading with the same intensity, and as I glanced away I noticed the single tear that gently fell from the corner of your eye.  Your other hand reaching up to discreetly wipe it away before anyone else witnessed it.

"I can't do this" you whispered.  "I don't want things to end this way."

"But we can't do this either."

"I can't say goodbye." 

"So don't say it.  Just turn and walk away."

"I can't."

My heart was pounding.  Part of me wanting to take his face in my hands and kiss him deeply.  Part of me wanting to revel in his tears.  Part of me wanting to force him over the table and hurt him.  Part of me wanting to hold him and to whisper that it would be ok.

But, there was the part of me that knew that this was the right thing.  For him. For me. For us. For everything.

It didn't make it any easier.

It doesn't make it any easier knowing that it is the right thing when there's a part of you that doesn't want to believe it is the right thing.  But deep down you know.  Deep down you just know it is the right thing.  It doesn't stop it hurting.  It doesn't stop it reaching in and squeezing the life out of your heart, twisting it, turning it, hurting it before placing it back inside.

I gently pulled my hand from his.  Not daring to look at his face, his eyes or the sadness within.

"I can't do goodbyes."

 "I can't just walk away."

And with that, I stood up.  Knowing that what I was about to do was for him, for the best even though a part of me didn't want to let go.

"I can.  I will.  For you. For the best."

"But is it? For the best?"

And I stood, touching his face gently with my hand. Not daring to look at him, my heart feeling like a mirror hitting the floor as it shattered into a load of tiny pieces.  And as I started to walk away, my own tear matching his, I simply whispered "Yes JoJo. It is." 

Not so happy new year . . .

I often wonder if people stop and think at times when they wish people a "Happy New Year".

For some of us, there are things being faced which means that it isn't going to be.  That there are things which are happening which mean that the year isn't starting "happily" and that there are things that will be faced which will be far from.

I am certainly glad that the first day of the year is almost over. It is already one I really want to forget. It is already one which has bought sadness and pain, heartbreak and a hope for different things.

A new year doesn't always mean a good one.

A new year doesn't always bring the best of news, the best of happiness.

Sometimes the old year moving into a new one doesn't mean anything different. That just because that clock strikes midnight, that we change from a 2011 to a 2012 does it mean that everything is miraculously going to be wonderful.

It isn't.

While I certainly hope that the new year brings peace, health, happiness to everyone I know. I know that there will be things in these coming days which will bring anything but.  Still, if the shit is happening here, at least it's hopefully leaving some poor other bugger alone.

Christmas isn't always the happy time that people talk or think of.  You hear people say "Don't say things like that, it's Christmas!", but, for some people it is an incredibly difficult, often painful time of year. For some it is a time of year that is hoped it passes quickly and silently.  Going from one year into the next is often the same.

So, just because it is a new year, it doesn't mean it is going to be a good one.  It hasn't started as a good one.

But that is life.

Not saying that a good year wouldn't be welcome.

I just know that there are things which will make this forthcoming one, incredibly difficult, and certainly not good or happy, I had hoped it wouldn't be so early as the first day of the year.

There will be things of course that will be good, that will be happy, things that will fill those voids with happiness . . .there is always the open door to whatever life may bring . . .time will tell.

This time of year . . . .

Is not the easiest time of year, for so many people.

As people make plans to be together with family, it is always so apparent the family who are no longer here to be a part of it.

Planning the dinner for Christmas day which once had 12 or 14 people around it, now reduced to half that number, through people moving on, moving away and through the loss in one's passing.

Christmas was always one of my Mum's favourite times of the year, she always planned it so well, and it is a time which feels incredibly empty without her.  In fact, many things just do not seem right without her.  No matter how much time passes, it is something you do not get used to.  You just learn to cope in different ways.

This year, will be the first year I have ever spent Christmas eve in my own home and it will be for the little man too.  Another piece of proof of just how much things change, that the family that was once so close and tight together have drifted apart a little more each day, like icebergs on the ocean, floating in different directions until we all are out there, floating in the same ocean, but isolated from the others.

It breaks my heart when the little man tells me it feels like the others do not want to see him.  It breaks my heart that he feels as he does, that at this time of year places so much focus on "families", yet it is this time of year which also makes things hit home.  I wonder if these family members have any idea of the hurt their actions can cause?!

The missing "parent", the family who are not here, those who have passed . . .when so many think that it is such a wonderful time of year, and it can be.  But there are for so many when it is the complete opposite.  

A friend of mine across the ocean, watches as the family that she has left make open plans on media such as facebook to get together at Christmas with an invite that never comes her way.  Gatherings that she has never been invited to and instead makes her plans on how to get through the day on her own, taking care of other peoples houses and pets while they are away with their own family.

My heart breaks for her and I wish the ocean weren't so wide.

She said she was thinking about how much she wanted to really feel the joy of this time of year without it being constantly undercut with sadness, telling herself that she should be happy with what she has,  to stop making comparisons and to accept the situation in life more philosophically.

Except, it isn't that simple.

It isn't that easy.

And it is times of year such as this, which makes it incredibly hard not to miss things, to not wish that some things were different.  There isn't any philosophical thoughts or views which can take away that undercut of sadness.

Sometimes its just a case of getting through.

Sometimes it is just a case of finding a way to deal with that undercut of sadness, attempting not to let it cut so deep, but when everyone around us is lost in their days of happiness and celebration, there are others who wear a mask, placing a smile onto the face just to make it through.

The bottom of the barrel

I learned today, that someone I used to be very close to, attempted suicide on Monday.  

It isn't the first time. 

He said, it won't be the last. 

No amount of help, of trying, of anything is able to help him, or to save him from himself.  It at times, breaks my heart to know someone struggles so much.  He isn't a bad person.  But he certainly knows how to lash out and hurt with his words.  This goes in stages. 

He hurts with his words.  Cuts off any contact with anyone and everyone. And reappears months, maybe a year or so later.  It is a pattern that seems to repeat itself.  I've lost count of the number of times that it has in the time that I have known him.  But no amount of trying to "reach" will make any difference.  He remains just out of that reach, but that is his plan and his intentions. 

It is incredibly difficult.  Sometimes though, we just have to realise when there isn't anything that we can do. It is incredibly hard to accept that there isn't anything that I can do. 

Not something that sits well with me at all.

I learned today that someone I know has breast cancer.  

I hadn't seen her for a while. Now I know why.  A little older than I am, but a mum to a 10 year old.  It's times like this that just make you wonder.  It is times like this that it often brings to our minds of those we have already lost. It brings to mind all of the "potential" that life can throw at us, the fears that we can live with, and the completely devastating impact such things have on someone and their life.

I learned today that a friend of mine who had been struggling to conceive for many years lost the twins that she had been carrying as a result of recent fertility treatment.  How we wish that we could take back the things that we said that everything would be ok.

It isn't. How can it be?

It seems to be a week of sad news. 

Someone attempting to take their own life.  Another one doing all they can with treatment to save their life.  And two potential lives that never had the chance to be.

All very different, all situations which make someone think, reflect and ponder the things that life throws our way.

It is certainly situations like this, which make you dig deep, to be able to be there for those who are facing this, to be that support.  At times, it is also incredibly hard when it triggers memories of loss and times which had been laid to rest a long time ago. 

So, it's been a somewhat difficult week one way or another.  A week which has been filled with such heartbreaking news.  Someone who doesn't want any help. Someone who wants all the help they can get.  Someone who doesn't know what they want from those around them right now.

Life.

Loss.

It's never easy. 

Sometimes it can really scrape the bottom of the barrel.

.

Beautifully Broken.

I always remember His words, of that moment of being "beautifully broken".  In a D/s sense that is.  And I get that. I understand that too.  It isn't for everyone. I understand the words that He shared, I understand what it means. But more so, I *know* how it feels.  I *know* what it is like.

There is beauty in it.

But, there was no beauty in Him last night. 

He sat there his arms holding himself close as if He was afraid to ever let go.  Fighting back the tears which He had never shown to anyone else.  

Afraid for anyone to see the sadness that He felt within, the pain, the loss. 

But just as He knows me.

I know Him.

Just as He does with me, I know Him better than He knows Himself at times. 

"it's ok to let it out ~ no-one, *I* will not think any less of You, it doesn't make You weak to let it out."

*silence*

His eyes portrayed the depths of His pain and His sadness as He looked at me.  He looked lost in a way I have never seen Him look before, like a young child wanting to be reassured that it will be ok. 

"It will be ok, it will."

He sat there and I held Him as He cried. 

"It will get easier. It will get better. It will . . .be ok that is"

There was no beauty in His pain.

There is always beauty in Him.

He was broken.

But not beautifully so.