You Can’t Tell

You Can’t tell

My gait is different.

Introspection obscured.

Confusion within

You can’t tell!

 

My gaze in the mirror

Mirror image haunts

Anxiety wells within

You can’t see

 

I am convinced

My difference will offend

Acceptance is a distant hope

You can’t understand

 

Muddled within

Grasping for acceptance

Mental irregular diagnosis

You can’t speak!

 

Why be the same?

Drummers beat,

Difference pounded

Acceptance Obscured.

 

Private moments

Are and should be private

Can’t tell

Can’t see

 

My acceptance

Begins with me

Walking the walk

Standing firm!

 

Truth rises within

Needing NO validation!

You can’t see.

What you do not know.

 

Understanding is strength

Hope rises from within!

Acceptance of Self!

Needs no outside Validation!

 

Truth is not challenged

By falsehood!

Grasping at straws of society

Only depletes reality.

 

Wisdom is knowing

My path is straight

The narrow of thinking

Does not destroy Me

Shattered by Christine Swiderski

lit-candle

Broken glass can be swept away

This is not so with a broken heart

Life pumps through each vein

Shattered shards protrude

Sneaking through any harsh words

Only to feel guilt from its quill

I promised myself not to be so shrill

Emotional fists speak for me

How dare anyone try to help me?

Nowhere is there a soul to understand

Walking in my shoes leave festered sores

Forgive, they say it easily enough

What doesn’t kill you makes you tough

Rhetoric only breathes contempt of cause

Leave me to my shattered state

Before my heart begins to hate

Let each piece find its place

As a stain glass piece of art

Ultimately I will not fall apart

In time it will all come together

Light will shine through me once again

That will be the time for me to begin

 

It used to be Dark

 

It used to be dark this time of day,

His life was slipping away

My heart slipped into the night

The abyss was calling for our souls

We held to our faith

Holding to each promise of life

Even in the darkness

Now he is gone,

Yet I still belong to him.

No wonder of this world can begin.

Until the savages of grief have passed.

Can I finally rise up from the ash?

As a phoenix from the abyss fly’s free.

I still need to live the breath given to me.

Turning each corner as I walk this earth,

I look for my moment of rebirth.

I know my love is not home alone.

He sees the images of my moan.

He never judges my steps forward.

Knowing this, my soul cries out,

My heart will never be morbid.

I am not really alone he is ever present.

Memories can guide our soul’s yearnings

My soul mate would never begrudge

I will be given a nudge in the right direction

I will always hope for my own perfection.

My prayer is to be granted a reprieve

Finding someone to love once again

Beginning a new journey to the end.

Climbing the Mountian

Climbing the Mountain

My life has taken a drastic turn. I do understand the ins and outs of life. Birth, life, death and taxes are all part of the human experience. Yet being widowed now was something I never counted on. Roy and I had big plans for our retirement. Roy had another 5 years with the company he worked for. I have 7 years to go. Roy loved vintage everything, cars, snowmobiles, furniture. We planned on getting a motorhome, taking our passion on the road. Instead, I am sitting on my friend’s sofa looking into my cup of coffee hoping to see something more than steam. Even the steam does not warm the chill that was left as the door closed and the police officer stepped off my porch. The officer came to inform me, my husband while riding his vintage 63 Ski-Doo fell through the ice on Houghton Lake during a Tip Up Town celebration.

My best friend Dani stood just outside my kitchen overheard the horrible news. She quickly scooped me up and took me to her place. I still haven’t caught my breath.

During the next few weeks, there was a flurry of activity, planning and executing the funeral, recovery of the snowmobile, friends stopping by to check on me.  Now months later the chill has left yet numbness has settled in. My friends still call, instead of asking how I am they make suggests as to what I should be doing and who I should be doing it with. I try not to say anything to them I keep my thoughts to myself. My anger is just below the surface, I want to scream at them and tell them this is my life let me muddle through it. I have 2 male friends both are insinuating at the fringe of conversations letting me know they would like to be more than just friends. I am starting to feel boxed in. My girlfriends and family keep me in a box where their needs reside. The male friends have desires they need quelling.

For some reason, I feel more relaxed within my small blogging community. I can reach out without the fear someone will slap my feelings back or judge me for the impetuous feelings.

Grieving is a roller coaster ride with peaks and valleys. How can anyone understand? Even if they have loved and lost someone to the dark, they still could not walk in my shoes of grief. How dare they even suggest they know better?

Just beneath the surface of my moving forward is the ever present memory of my dear Roy. I know in my heart of hearts he would not mind if I move forward and enjoy what life God has blessed me with. My living my life does not mean I diminish what we had.

I have made the decision not to ease the fears nor gratify the needs of my family and friends. Those who truly love me will have to understand my timing, even my need to do it my way.

One of my blogging friends is heavy into music. You can ask him anything from rock and roll, grunge, jazz, blues you name it he has a large collection to choose from. His passion is reminiscent of the vintage passion Roy and I shared. I am enjoying learning something new. Mark has asked if I would like to go to Chicago for the blues festival and from there we would go to Detroit for their blues festival. I gave a resounding yes.

My friends and family have rebelled against my decision saying things that bite me to the core.  Going so far as to accuse me of hurting people on purpose, my two male friends are disappointed and maybe even hurt I can’t help them with it. I never lead them on nor lied to them. On the surface, it seemed like a good match being that we shared the same love of Vintage cars, snowmobiles, and furniture. I could easily pick up where I left off the only difference, it would not be with Roy.

I need a fresh start and if that means adding a new passion to my hobbies and in my relationships, then so be it. How is that wrong I asked my best friend Dani? I think deep down she understands, but I  her need is for me to stay the same and not change. Dani and her husband Bob would go on excursions with Roy and I. We all lost with the passing of Roy. I need to pursue this for me. See where it goes.

It is hard climbing a mountain when you have no idea where the summit is.

Blank Page

 

Staring at the page set before me,

My meandering mind is drowsy,

Each click of the keys paints a picture,

Swirling thoughts of this and that,

Can these thoughts convey a soul?

Or will they lie flat as the page before me?

Fingers are pulsing a rhythmic thought,

Triggering memories of days gone by,

Skipping through faded wonder,

From childhood to the adult

Briefly catching a moment in time

This Blank Page then comes alive.

Soliciting emotions from the reader.

Reaching for that moment which gives a sigh.

Read and weep braking into a laugh

That is the hope of the writer’s craft.

 

 

 

Complete

Seeing elder couples complete each other’s sentences always gives me hope. Been married for over 20 years, we don’t complete each other’s sentences but we know before the words are spoken the general emotion that will be expressed.

I suppose that is a form of completion. We may express gas in unison which may also be a form of completion. If I contemplate the phenomenon of completion I would have to admit that I would be bored if I were able to complete his sentences. I still like surprises. Especially with the wink, that comes before the surprise.

Second marriages statistically fail within the first 5 years, due in part to family pressure. Another irritant is money. Any marriage that can withstand the barrage from step kids, ex-wives or husbands I believe can withstand anything. With all this said, what happened to me took me by surprise. Or maybe I was not paying attention.

It was a beautifully blue, warm summer day. We both arrived home from work at the same time. We gave each other our usual hug and kiss with the unspoken, “glad to see you” “glad to be home”. This time something seemed off with Mitch, I chalked it up to a long week. As we walked into the side door I turned to ask Mitch if grilled pork chops would be okay for dinner. His eyes clouded over and he said: “I will not be staying for dinner. Nor will I be spending any more nights here.”

A knot immediately formed simultaneously in my stomach and throat.

My response was not assertive it was a form of a gasp “What?”

He said: “Did you think I would stay with you once I found out you are cheating on me?”

Now I am at a loss for words. Never in my life had I cheated even on a test, how is it Mitch thinks I am cheating on him?

He knows my expressions. He knows how to read me. His silence was a relief. He said: “We need to talk.”

He grabbed two beers as he motioned me onto the patio. My legs were weak causing my body to thump into the chair. I took a long pull on the cold beer. Hot tears were cascading down my cheeks. Mitch got up and retrieved 2 more beers. We sat silent for a few moments. Mitch began to tell me of the emails he had been receiving from someone by the name of John Oxford. I looked at Mitch quizzically wondering who and the hell is John Oxford.

Now I am grateful for the gift of knowing each other’s emotions before the spoken word. I listened to his dissertation as to the contents of the e-mails, numbly shaking my head was my only response.

This time I went to get us both another beer. I started the grill and said to Mitch: “We need to take this slow. I will grill the chops. I made the salad before we went to work. But I need you to answer a question. When did I ever have the time to cheat? After work and every weekend, we spend together. Except for the occasional trip to the store or garage sales, whatever?”

Mitch said the e-mails indicated the liaisons were during lunch hours, also when you said you worked overtime. I contemplated that and said “You can check to see if I ever leave work for lunch being that I have to use my card to enter and leave the building. That goes for working late.”

Mitch shrugged and said “Honestly Sharon in the back of my mind I could not believe you would cheat. The e-mails were so precise and convincing.”

Mitch went to get his computer while I grilled the pork chops. We ate amiably but silent. Each of us with a fresh beer we started to read the e-mails one by one. They were well thought out describing what I was wearing. The weather, what I had on my agenda each day. I looked at Mitch and we said to each other: “This guy knows everything about you (me).”

Mitch started to apologize profusely for ever doubting me. Now we had the task to find out who is stalking me and why he wants to ruin my marriage.

Mitch and I both agreed to get the police involved. We decided to meet at the police station after work the next day.

After we finished up dinner, cleaned up the dishes we both showered together. I told Mitch no one could make me feel the way he does.

The next morning as I walked into work I was apprehensive. Knowing there is someone watching closely enough to notice what lipstick I was wearing, cologne I was using, how my hair was done on any particular day. The one thing that made me feel safe is our company has top notch security. If I were to scream for help anywhere in the building they would know exactly where to send help.

I went about my day trying to see anything out of place. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. No one paid any undue attention to me. The thought did occur to me the emails could be from a female coworker trying to screw with my life.

After work, Mitch and I met at the police department as we agreed. We were directed to a detective in the cyber/computer department. Interesting how things have changed.

Detective Lyons was tall and willowy, with a broad smile and easy laugh. He went through Mitch’s emails. It took more time than I thought it would. We ordered take out and settled down for a long evening. By 8 pm the detective said the server the emails originated from were from my work. Detective Lyons took down the necessary information and told us he will do some checking to see if he could narrow it down to a particular computer or at least a department.

Mitch and I arrived home, kicked off our shoes and slumped into our sofa. I was never so glad it was Friday. We both needed a break. I am hoping we will know something by Monday.

Monday morning Mitch told me I should stay home. I told him I would probably be safer at work being our security is top notch. He shrugged and said: “Sharon, I love you and would be devastated if anything happened to you.”

When I arrived at work I filled my coffee mug, sat down at my desk and decided to jump right into my daily routine just like any other day. Mid-day we had the usual Monday office meeting. My boss stood at a podium in the lunch room we all gathered with paper, pen, and beverage.

“Today we need to discuss a problem that has come to my attention.” Paul Ryan said

My face flushed thinking he would tell about the e-mails and how I am being stalked. I was relieved he did not give out details.

“There seems to have been a breach in our computers. Someone has been using them to harass one of our employees. I want to be very clear if anyone of you is using the computer to harass or bully someone it will mean an immediate firing and detention. The police are at this moment checking everyone’s computer for suspicious activity.” Ryan said

I slowly glanced around to see if anyone flinched or looked remotely guilty. The only one I notices was Dharma Smith. Her head was down, she was twisting her napkin. Mr. Ryan must have noticed as well he said: “I want everyone to stay her in this room until you are dismissed by a police officer. Dharma if you have a moment I would like to speak with you.”

Dharma looked up and just stared for a moment. Slowly she got up and walked slowly over to Ryan. Mr. Ryan spoke in soft tones. Dharma nodded and spoke quietly in return. Both left the room. A police officer stood just inside the lunchroom door.

Detective Lyons came in pointed and me and motioned for me to come with him. I actually felt some relief. Maybe for some reason, Dharma decided to mess with my marriage. I cannot figure why there is nothing she could gain from it.

Detective Lyons brought me into Mr. Ryan’s office and closed the door.

“Dharma Smith just told me that she has been having an affair with Mitch. Mitch broke it off telling her he would never leave you. She sent the e-mail’s hoping he would leave you if he found out you were cheating as well.”

I just stared at the Detective. Is this a double cross or is this still misinformation. There is no way Mitch would cheat on me. Detective Lion’s had me sit as he retrieved some water for me. My heart was pounding, I was sweating.

There was a commotion outside the door, people yelling. There was mass confusion. A uniform police officer poked his head into the office and told Detective Lyons that Dharma Smith left the building. The Detective voiced his concern and admonitions. He then turned to me and said: “It would be best you stay here until we can find her.” I nodded and looked at the bottled water in my hands. I don’t know what to think at this point. My co-workers were still in the lunchroom. An hour later Detective Lyons came back into the office and pulled a chair next to me and said: “Sharon there is something I need to tell you. Dharma went to Mitch’s office and shot him then herself.”

I gasped, felt myself blacking out.

After the funeral, I had found out there were countless emails between Mitch and Dharma. Also, voicemails, text messages on Dharma’s phone were never erased. Mitch was more careful but it was clear they all came from him.

Will I ever feel complete again?