GHOSTS APPEAR

I keep going back,
searching, looking….for something I can’t find.
Nothing but an empty field now,
outlined by brand new curbs
a framework of what once was.

The street that once claimed 100 homes -
a community diverse – Italian, Polish, African American, Mexican, Irish;
different accents, faint voices – now long gone;
grandparents now settled in their graves,
kids grown and off to new spaces. 

I keep going back...
gazing at the spot where the childhood home stood,
nothing reminiscent of my time there save an old tree or two.
The carcass of a school playground and
the old church at the corner
the remaining vestiges
of childhood play.
Still I see everything,
silhouettes that materialize for a moment
evaporating before I get too close -
achingly near, but just out of reach.

I keep going back,
bits and pieces of the past...
Mr. Scavone's pigeons
whose ancestors search for bread
now at new locales.
Elderly crone, the old lady Woods,
neighborhood witch,
taunted by merry pranksters
secretly afraid,
now haunts only in memories
of the aging adult child.

I keep going back
as if I’ll find it this time -
this thing I cannot name
that haunts me with promises
of a rendezvous that can’t occur…
striving to find moments long past
or perhaps,
just something or someone to remember me back…

Still I go back time and again,
searching the unsearchable,
leaving empty, unfulfilled.
Looking for something I’ll never find
except in transient moments in my head.

Ghosts appear and fade away….

THINGS THAT ARE

If you’re human, every so often a realization hits you or your paradigm gets shifted.  It happens when a small fissure of light cracks the through a hard surface where a new truth dwells.  When it occurs you have a choice – a split second where you can choose to freefall into that light and explore the new knowledge or rapidly blink it away and then it’s gone.  Nothing has changed and you’re none the worse...or so you think.

I believe it happens time and again to most of us.  Often we avoid the tiny splinter of light because somehow we know it will change us and that can be scary.  And it’s a lot of work too.  We have to examine it and try it on. It may feel tight and restrictive or it may not fit well with the rest of our intellectual wardrobe.  So we let it go and assume that we know enough of the truth to get by. 

As for me, at times I have boldly stepped through and looked at the “thing that is” squarely and honestly and have acknowledged it, allowing the restructure of my perceptions.  It can hurt a bit at first.  And it’s troublesome, illuminating new reality and shining light on the other pieces of my paradigm that are skewed and need to be modified. 

Still, other times I’ve blinked my eyes back into focus on what I already know and believe. I’m comfortable with it and I don’t want the disruption to my reality - one that already sounds good in my head. So sadly, for that time being, it’s gone.

I like to think that I am more the freefall type at least most of the time. I like to think that I become more so as time goes on in my life. I’m open, involved, free-thinking, passionate and compassionate. Yet I’m amazed with the realization that occasionally, I still do the psychological two-step with my rational mind, hanging on to obtuse beliefs and feel-good philosophies regarding peace, love and the brotherhood of man.

I'm not saying that the idea of peace and brotherhood are foolish notions -rather, and obviously, that they are not easily achieved. They require hard work and commitment on the part of men, religions and governments. In the smaller spectrum, they entail listening to others and opening oneself up to different realities.  They involve letting go of everything you think you know to look at reality through another’s eyes.  Most of all, they require plummeting in to the light of truth when it presents itself and exploring with candor and courage the things that are.

CRITICAL MASS

I'm tired of critical people.

You know the ones.

They disapprove of your lifestyle,

spiritual choices or seeming lack thereof,

political tendencies

and maybe even the way you speak, act and look.

If they don't agree with you,
they tune you out
then talk about you behind your back.
Anything you do
and any change you make in your life
is suspect in their eyes.

They don't understand you and make no attempt to try.
You're wierd, deceived
phony, crazy, angry or bitchy.
You're not enough of this and you're too much of that
and they let you know you've become unacceptable
in subtle and passive aggresive ways,
all the while wearing their bright white facades.

I'm tired of critical people -
Those with whom I'm unable to be myself.
Those who for a moment cause me to doubt myself
and seeing myself through their eyes,
believe I'm unacceptable.

I'm tired of critical people
who claim to have all of the truth
tied in a neat package with a bow,
who don't need to know even one more thing -
so complete is their truth.
Who stand in judgement of every one
with whom they disagree;
Who cannot sacrifice themselves
for a bit of kindness for an idea, thought or person
that is different from them.

I'm tired of critical people
who cannot open their eyes, hearts or minds.
Who can't concieve of things being different
than what they see right now.
Who can't accept those that are different
in any way from what they consider the norm.

I'm tired of critical people
whose critical natures are self-sustaining
and perpetrate more and more negative energy
among themselves and their kind.

I'm tired of allowing critical people

inside my head...

to make me critical

of myself and of them.

SLEEP STUDY, WHAT?

I'm going for a sleep study tonight.  That's where someone I do not not know studies me -  sleeping...kind of.

It's my second one.  I had my first one about six years ago.  At the time, I was constantly exhausted.  I couldn't drive in the car for more than half an hour without feeling like dozing.  My eyelids were a light purple color - very attractive. 

My husband had noticed my sleep apnea long ago.  He said that sometimes I would quit breathing for close to a minute which of course alarmed him to no end.  Finally, when I got sick of being tired and tired of listening to him and my doctor go on about my sleep issues, I agreed to go for the study. 

It was weird.  They hook you up all over the place.  I mean your head, face, arms, legs and chest.  Then, about the time you feel really uncomfortable, they tell you you can go to sleep when you're ready. 

Ready?.....I have wires all over me stuck to my body with sticky goop that will probably never come off.  A complete  and total stranger is sitting in another room monitoring my snoring and sputtering and eyelid movement the entire night.  Sure, no problem.  You bet! I can sleep.  And I did...sort of.  I was told in the morning that my sleep was disturbed 341 times in a six-hour period. 

Holy Toledo!  No wonder I was so tired.  So they fix you up with a C-pap - a machine that forces air into your nose and prevents the soft tissue in your throat from closing.  And it works!  It has done wonders for me. 

So, that's what I'm doing tonight.  I guess you're supposed to have the study redone every two years or so in case the air pressure in your C-pap needs to be adjusted. Or, if you really need a night of discomfort and self-consciousness.  And really, who doesn't?   

Truthfully, I will say that if you have sleep apnea, do something about it.  Because it's dangerous for one thing.  And you'll realize that you felt like shit for years without even knowing it.  And then you'll feel so much better you'll be like "wow, how did I function before C-pap?" 

My evening of torture begins at 8:00 pm.  I'll be outa there by 5:30 am.  Piece of cake!

"BIRDIES" For Abby

Our little Abby loves when we sing to her.  And she likes to sing herself, but she's a little shy.  I go through a whole repetoire of songs when she's at my house.  I made this one up on Saturday morning. She had me sing it at least 12 times.  It was a hit!  Who knew I had such talent?

I love being a grandma!

Birdies fly high....high in the sky,

They use their wings to fly, fly, fly.

Birdies fly high....high in the sky,

They use their wings to fly, fly, fly.

Birdies in trees, say tweet tweet.

They're looking for buggies to eat, eat, eat.

Birdies in trees, say tweet tweet.

They watch for good buggies to eat, eat, eat.

GUILT TRIP

Ring….ring….    Good afternoon! Queen of guilt trips speaking. Our special today includes our sizzling crispy guilt-trip burger with a side of our seasoned curly guilt fries and a large ice cold I told you so. Can I take your order?

I’ve been told recently by someone close that I’m the queen of guilt trips.  This was quite a slap in the face to me.

My mama was the Irish version of a Jewish mother when it came to guilt-trips. She was a handful - long story.

Anyway, I’ve made it my mission in the last 15 years or so to avoid making people, especially my children, feel bound by guilt. I often think I go overboard and forgo saying things when they need to be said out of fear that I will cause guilt or shame.  But I also think that like everyone, I may do some things without even realizing it.  I don't want to be the "you neva caull me" mother. 

So, I’m bummed. I didn’t see that coming.

Oy vey, they think I'm meshuganah! Now I've got shpilkes in the Geneckteckessoink and I'm feeling verklempt…

MA WEE MAMMY

My mammy was born in Scotland but we're Irish by ancestry.  My grandparents both moved from Ireland to Scotland and raised their family there. 

The Scottish have a brilliant way with words.  It was never dull at "oor hoose."  These are some of the sayings I grew up with (said with a thick Scottish accent):

If you die wi a face like that, no one'll wash it.

Someone just walked over ma grave.

Look at you, hanging around like a knotless thread!

I feel like the wreck o' the Hesparus.

Quite yer greitin! (crying)

If you cry on yer birthday, you'll be cryin' all year.

If he was chocolate, he'd eat himself!

Quit yer blethering.

Och, yer a good wee girl!

Och, yer a cheeky wee bitch.

Och, ya wee bugger

You're daft!

You'll have a sore bahooky if ye don't stop.

Wash yer oaksters (armpits).

Och, yer a lovely wee lassie.

I miss ma mammy...

I'm goin' hame.

Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph!

BITCH SLAP

Everyone needs to vent.  We all need to bitch once in a while...true story.  But people don't like it when you say what you're really thinking; when you talk about all the crazy, or not...stuff that's in your head.  And they'll criticize you for it.  And they'll talk about you. And they'll BITCH about you. 

Well, this is my bitching spot where I have the freedom to ruminate, postulate, protest, hypothesize, philosophize, and just plain bitch. 

Just sayin'

MOTHER TERESA WOULD JUST MAKE THE DAMN COFFEE

At work this morning I was performing my morning ritual of “making the coffee” as I do every day because…that’ my job. This ritual generally includes a plastic secretary smile that belies the chronic and unceasing complaining that is going on in my head every day at this time about my low status in the corporate universe along one or more of the following lines:

• Glad I spent all that money which I’m still paying back on a master’s degree.
  
• Sob's can’t make a pot of coffee?
  
• Why does God/universe hate me?
  
• Karma? 
  
• Job titles: plumber, maid, hostess and office manager and that's just at work– don’t ask.
  
• Various and sundry other grievances regarding my current work life.

But while I was driving to work I was thinking about peace, love and the brotherhood of man.  No really.

I’ve been reading this book by Pema Chodron called “Taking the Leap” in which she discusses various eastern and Buddhist practices toward becoming a better person. One of the practices is called Tonglen, which serves to help one reduce selfish attachment and promote the development and expansion of loving kindness toward all beings.

For example, when you look at say, a homeless or mentally ill person on the street, or anyone whose gaze you may evade in order to escape the reaction or feeling they evoke in you; with Tonglen, you would instead breathe in and confront that feeling or emotion and breathe out goodwill and kindness and the wish for comfort in that person's life.  You are confronting the feeling that makes you uncomfortable.  That's my very simple version of Tonglen - it's really way much more than that, but it's first dealing with your own reaction to discomfort, then projecting goodness on to the individual you would otherwise have avoided.

Today when I was contemplating Tonglen, I thought it must be much like the way Mother Teresa thought. I think she put herself in the shoes of the people she served – actually becoming one of them so she could minister and serve them with true compassion.

This morning while I was performing my internal bitching session in concert with coffee-making it occurred to me - Ugh! Mother Teresa would just make the damn coffee!

So, if I can't overlook something so silly as a bit of ingrained sexism in the office how will I ever truly be the kind of person I want to be - kind, compassionate and loving.  It's really all about just getting over yourself.

Well, anyway, I never said I was Mother Teresa.  I made the coffee but I've got to keep working on that attitude.

IMAGINE

We are a species filled with imagination, resourcefulness and creativity.  We create from what we envision. 

We're sometimes gullible.  We can believe in almost anything.  Different groups, different beliefs -  we place our trust in the government, USDA, FDA,
EPA and the AMA, just to name a few.  We believe in faith healers, televangelists, psychics and mediums. 

Some believe in a "rapture" wherein everyone who is a true "believer" is one day caught up into the heavens to be with God, or that Jesus Christ is coming back on a white horse.  Others believe in 7 virgins for every martyr for their cause.

We swallow info on every fad diet that comes down the pike.  We'll try every miracle vitamin product, wrinkle cream and exercise dodad that finds its way to the market.  We're gullible man!

And yet, we pray for peace and promote war.  Imagination run amuck.  That's not right.  Why can't we create peace....imagine oneness....the brotherhood of man...non-violence.

Well, I think that this is the side God's on........see below.

Imagine there's no Heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one

~JOHN LENNON

MAMA

Tomorrow is Mother's Day.  I will be celebrating with my two children at my son-in-law's mother's home and I'm looking forward to it. 

I haven't always looked forward to Mother's day.  I didn't always have the best relationship with my own mother, although I loved her dearly. Somehow, that put a crimp in our celebrations - at least on my part.  I was always hyper vigilant that nothing was said that could somehow be turned against me at a later date because that was mom's forte. I also felt guilty about my own mothering skills as my children grew up.  Mother's day just reminded me of how unworthy I was compared to most of the other mothers I knew back when I was struggling to raise my own.

Now I realize how wasteful that kind of thinking is.  My mom died on May 10, 2004, the day after Mother's Day.  She was ill - her heart was failing and she was suffering from dementia and living at our home when she died.  She knew who we were but didn't always know where she was.  As the dementia progressed, she became very quiet, docile and passive - a shell of the person she had been. She stayed in bed more and more each day. She ate very little - mostly just tea and toast.  She watched a little bit of TV but slept most of the time. 

I took care of my mom, especially during that last year when she lived with us.  But somehow, I still managed to avoid her.  Not that I didn't see her daily - I can't really explain it.  We had someone come in during the day to take care of her while we were at work but I was there every night.  I did what had to be done but managed to keep a solid distance between us - I guess emotionally.  I was incredibly uncomfortable and I think, a little cold sometimes. I guess I was protecting myself.

On our last Mother's Day celebration, she did not even get up to eat with us.  I brought her a small plate of food in her room and she ate very little.  Later, we all had dessert and tea in her room with her while she opened her presents.  There was lots of talking and laughing and she really seemed to enjoy herself.  It was very sweet. 

I wish I could have that day back again.  Knowing what I know now, I would do things differently.  I would spend the entire day in her room with the windows open and curtains blowing in the breeze. I would watch TV with her and hold her hand. I would talk to her and ask her to reminisce about her family and childhood.  I'd let go of all the unspoken stuff that stood between us and I would tell her all of the great things I remember about her. 

Like my memory of walking down the street with her eating an ice-cream cone at the age of 4 or 5 on a warm summer's day.  I dropped my cone on the sidewalk and it landed upside down on the ice cream.  I started crying and mom, cool as a cucumber, told me not to cry, picked up the cone and wiped it on the front of her shirt so I could eat it.  I was seriously in awe. She was my hero.  I can still remember to this day the admiration I felt for her that moment. 

I'd talk about her kelly green wool dress and her kelly green fur hat that she donned every St. Patrick's day when she went out to celebrate with her friends.  She always looked so awesome in that get-up and she loved to celebrate our Irish ancestry.  She was quite the party girl in her day.

I'd remind her of how she always brought me a box of Milk Duds when she was at the movies with friends. 

I'd tell her of how much fun she was when I was small and all the little things she did to make me laugh.  I'd tell her she was the best grandmother to my children that anyone could have hoped for and that I learned to be a good grandmother from her. 

I'd let her know that I was so thankful for all the times she helped me when times were hard and I'd tell her how much I loved her in spite of the emotional distance that grew between us over the years. 

It's kind of a shame - so many things left unsaid that were clouded over by hurt feelings and mistrust.  And what was I protecting myself from anyway?  Sigh... just a plain waste of precious time.

It's said that "hindsight is 20/20."  In my experience, that's very true. 

So, these days I try very hard to make sure that my relationship with my grown children is solid and filled with love and trust.  I don't want them to go through the same kind of sadness and loss when it's my time to go and I don't want anything left unsaid.  That's where the greatest loss is and it can be avoided.

I'm not terribly sad anymore though.  Mom knew that I loved her.  We always kissed and hugged every time we saw each other.  And we always said I love you.  I have some great memories of her.  I only wish I'd shown her more.

I love you mom. 

SABOTEUR

I’m forever sabotaging myself. I don’t like to admit it – but it’s true. And it’s not because I want to. Why on earth would a person do that to themselves? Yet, here we are.

Yesterday I realized that I feel like my life is out of control. Not just because I ate two candy bars and the last piece of angel food roll that I didn’t really like anyway. And not just because I’m always so squeezed for time and our finances are extremely tight.

These are just a few things, most of which by themselves would not be a big deal, but combined with a list of other trials, tribulations and missteps, become one big time-bomb ready to go off.

It doesn’t have to be that way. I heard a phrase last week that really stuck with me. “Be the captain of your own vessel.” I haven’t been doing that and I think that’s odd for me because I have long been a strong personality. As a younger person, when I wanted to do something I found a way to do it - come “hell or high water” as the saying goes. But these past few years - not so much.

I’ve been feeling tired and a little beat down by life circumstances and I’m not bouncing back like I used to. I’ve gained weight and bought myself a few health problems with it. I won’t go into the details but for cryin’ out loud – no one is forcing that shit down my throat.

I think sometimes that we act out because we’re not getting what we need. Generally, at least for me, it’s something that I won’t allow myself to have. I really don’t take much time for me. It’s not because I’m an unselfish giving person either. Rather, it’s more the ultimate selfishness. Trying to be all things to all people…trying to make everything all better for someone I love – kind of like the great and powerful OZ on the beloved classic, The Wizard of Oz. “Pay no attention to that man (woman) behind the curtain.” The façade starts falling apart while I try to keep it together, all the while acting like nothing's wrong.

I let this stuff into my head – I live with it and as a result, I act out. For example, I sabotage my diet almost every day and on bad days, I really go to town like the candy bars and cake incident yesterday. I tell myself every day that I’m going to start exercising but then put it off until tomorrow. I lament about my job situation but for all intents and purposes have stopped trying to change it. Tiresome.

Seeing this in writing kind of pummels my self-image. But that’s okay because I’ve been actively assaulting it anyway.

I spent some time thinking about it today and I’ve realized that we get into these mental predicaments and often are not even conscious of what we’re doing to ourselves.

So today, I have decided to become the captain of my own vessel again. I’m refraining from my attempts to take over other people’s vessels. Instead, I’ll allow them the dignity of steering their own. I’m determined to remind myself of the stamina, gumption and strength that I always had in the past and I’m going to reclaim it. I’m making a plan for my:

Health
Mental state
Spiritual state
Financial state
State of relationships

Today I set sail.

PRETENSE I - THE NATURE OF THE BEAST

I wrote this in the hospital two weeks ago.  It took some time to convince myself to post it.....

“The conflict, the craziness and the sound of pretenses falling all around.”

02/23/2011 - Day 2 – hospital:

Today I’m in the hospital; the result of an “episode” yesterday at work. While reviewing coverage for insurance quotes for a new prospect I began to have trouble finding my words. The result was a halting and almost stuttering monologue that both alarmed and embarrassed me. I knew what I wanted to say but had trouble getting the words out. It felt like what I imagine a seizure feels like.

The prospect, a long-winded gentleman, didn’t seem to notice unless he was just being nice. The problem lasted for 10 to 15 minutes out of the 40 minute conversation. I lost my focus and was completely unnerved by the time I got off the phone. My co-workers convinced me to go to the ER and I was admitted on Tuesday (yesterday) afternoon.

This is a relatively new situation for me. I am usually on the other side of the gurney/hospital bed. In the last decade I’ve seen my mom in and out of the hospital times too numerous to mention; and finally moving into our home where she spent her last days with us. In the past 4 years, my son, daughter and husband have all been through hospitalizations for some pretty serious health matters. As for me, except for a small emergency appendectomy and overnight stay, I have remained hospital free – the witness, caretaker and hovering protector of the others.

02/24/2011 - 1 Day Later:

“Do I wear you out? You must wonder why I'm relentless and all strung out - I'm consumed by the chill of solitary.”

I’m really not sure what to make of all this. I don’t feel old enough to be on blood thinners. I feel way too “healthy” or at least too darn good to be lying in a hospital bed and yet…here I am.

I’m waiting for the results of what I hope is my final test, the MRI. This is the one that will determine whether I had a stroke, proper. If it was just a Transient Ischemic Attack (TIA), and I suspect it is, it will probably not show and I will probably be able to go home today. The scary part is that a TIA is considered a warning stroke and 10 to 20 percent of people who have a TIA, go on to have a major stroke within 3 to 6 months so there are risk factors I must address. Still, I want to go home.

3 ½ hours later:
“I don't want to dissect everything today. I don't mean to pick (it) apart you see but I can't help it.”

No results yet – just plenty of time to think. I've discovered a dilemma: I want to be “all clear” and yet, if I am, then what happened to me on Tuesday? Will everyone at work think I’m nuts? If they do, does it matter?

Answer: Hell yes it matters because then I’ll wonder if they’re right. But, since when do I care what others think? I suppose in truth, I've always cared – especially in the past; in fact, way more than I should have. But in recent years I have been developing the freedom of not caring and I'm getting there....I think.  It is an amazing feeling if properly maintained. However, I do value my integrity (totally overused word) – and my belief in myself and I guess I sort of fear for that. Will the looks on their faces combined with my imagination cause me to lose faith in me – in my own strength? Sad, that…..I’ve been told I’m diabetic and may be prone to stroke but I’m worrying about my image….ghaaaaa! Pretense.

12:30 PM - Ordered lunch

“And all I really want is some patience - a way to calm the angry voice.
And all I really want is deliverance.”

I guess this is one of those “where the rubber meets the road" sort of deals. I’m feeling vulnerable I guess. I don't like that.  Well, and I am vulnerable, and we are all vulnerable to some extent - but mostly, I just loathe showing it and feeling it, and being it.  Shut up! No, you shut up!  Sigh...these two aren't getting along...

“The conflict, the craziness, and the sound of pretenses falling all around.”

Let me be clear (nod to Barak)... I don’t want to be sick - no one does. And I do want to know what happened on Tuesday - truly I do.  I mean really, we’re only vulnerable when we don’t know what’s going on right? Once we find out, we can set a course of action.

1:20 PM

“And I am frightened by the corrupted ways of this land - If only I could meet the maker. And I am fascinated by the spiritual man - I am humbled by his humble nature.”

I had lunch but I can’t really say I enjoyed it or even tasted it. Anxiety has set in. What a drama queen! I’m going home today!  Oh and by the way, I am spiritual!  Just not religious.

2:00 PM

"Why are (we) so petrified of silence?
Here can you handle this? SILENCE……
Did you think about you bills, your ex, your deadlines,
Or when you think you're going to die?
Or did you long for the next distraction?”

I called the nurse to see if she has heard anything about the test results. I'm a pest.

3:00 PM

I called the nurse to see if she has heard anything about the test results. Yep, I've alienated my nurse now.

4:30 PM

I called the nurse to see if she can call the doctor or neurologist to see about the test results.

5:00 PM

Cathleen, the stroke coordinator came in to tell me she looked at the MRI results and they are good but she’s telling me off the record because she is a nurse and not a radiologist. She will try to expedite the doctor's decision about letting me leave if she can.

6:00 PM

I called the doctor’s office and it is closed so I called the nurse and asked her to page the doctor and neurologist about the test results and to see if I can go home. I'm really not a good patient.  The nurse is giving me dirty looks now.  She has people who are really sick to take care of.

7:15 PM

Dr. Montpetit finally gave in and sent the discharge orders - he wanted the neurologist to discharge me but he never responded. I am on aspirin therapy and have been diagnosed with TIA aphasia. I have a list of directions to follow but I’m going home baby!

7:30 PM

"And all I really want is some peace man,
a place to find a common ground.
And all I really want is a wavelength.
All I really want is some comfort -
A way to get my hands untied.
And all I really want is some justice..."

I walk out of the hospital on my own and drive myself home. I’m back folks – fully in control; all vulnerabilities tucked safely away for the moment; pretenses strung around my neck like a pearl necklace. I’m back.

But enough about me.......

Quotes from the song "All I Really Want." ~Alanis Morrissette

REALITY BITES

I recently experienced something that no mother should ever have to go through. Last Friday, I went to pick my son up for work and found him unresponsive and not breathing. His feet and hands were blue, his lips were black and his face was a mottled purple. He had fallen in his bathroom and his head and neck were wedged against the wall with his head pushed forward on to his chest. At first look, I was sure he was dead but when I touched him, he was warm so I was hopeful. I called 911 and waited with the dispatcher on the phone for someone to arrive. I was fighting hysteria and running back and forth from the front door to the bathroom begging the dispatcher to make them get there sooner. After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably 6 minutes at the most, the dispatcher told me to go outside and flag down the police car that was just pulling into the apartment complex. This would prove to be the last time I was permitted to be in the apartment for awhile.

My son overdosed on heroin. He has suffered from heroin addiction for some time but has been clean for 3 years. During the 2 weeks preceding this event I knew something was wrong and had confronted him about it. Despite his protests and typical “you’re crazy” allegations, I knew. I have always been intuitive where my children are concerned and with my son, my intuition borders on paranormal. I have amazed my husband many times with the uncanny accuracy of my instincts and my son even more.

I cannot tell you the terror of those moments in time. The word terror doesn’t do them justice. All I can tell you is that in those moments, I saw my boy’s life from birth to that moment and I wanted to somehow capture it - them. I wanted to hold that baby and keep him safe in my arms. I wanted to hold his bicycle seat on his first two wheeler a little bit longer. I wanted to somehow capture the instant where everything went wrong and sent him down this sorrowful path. But I couldn’t – each lightning image, feeling, and word slipped away almost the moment they appeared. I feared he would slip away with them. I felt a large part of me would die as well.

And that’s life….the intangibles that we take so for granted. We spend most of our lives asleep – not living in the moment, savoring what is right now. I’m the queen of sleepwalking; of being so busy with what I have to do later, tomorrow, next week or next year. Thinking about every moment except the one I’m in. How much did I miss of my son’s living breathing moments being distracted and not present. Oh God.

My son has survived this onslaught from darkness. He’s alive and out of the hospital and my gratitude knows no bounds. And each moment that I spend with him now reminds me of how fragile this life can be, and how tenuous our hold on the present really is.

My son is pursuing recovery through an immediate available resource but my hope and prayer is that he will also seek counseling and strength through support of sponsors and groups that deal with addiction and on whom he can draw when reality bites.

And as for me; I have been reminded yet again how powerful our own self-deception can be and how easily we can let what is truly important slip away while we busy our mind with trivia and events that may never happen.

I cannot control my son or make his decisions for him, nor can I change my past or his.  But I can be here, awake and now in each moment; present to my family and friends that I love so much.  There is no time to waste and no guarantees.  What we have is the moment we are in.  It is time to awaken.

“Often it takes some calamity to make us live in the present. Then suddenly we wake up and see all the mistakes we have made.” ~Bill Watterson