Patriotism...What it means to me.

To most people Patriotism is nothing more than hanging a flag out for Memorial Day, 4th of July or Veterans Day and that is IF they remember to do it in the first place. It is in no way a daily part of their lives. Patriotism is a part time part of their lives. 


For me, Patriotism is more than just a flag flying outside my house on three or four "holidays" of the year. Its more than a magnet on the back of my car that says, "Support Our Troops" or "Freedom Isn't Free". Although wonderful to see on the back of cars, its more about the feelings that magnet invokes in me when I see it that makes me Patriotic and instills Patriotism in myself and my kids. When I see those magnets I wonder if the person really feels that way and does more or if it was just slapped on the back in a moment of temporary patriotism.  Was it placed there when 9/11 happened and has not been moved nor thought about since? Was it placed there when we went to war to show support and again not thought about again, or is it looked at each time the groceries are put in the boot of the car and maybe a finger runs across it with a tear or smile to follow, maybe its straightened up and a feeling of pride well up quietly in their hearts? I hope the latter...


Patriotism is taking the time to say, "Thank You" to a veteran. We see them every day in our lives, bagging groceries, at the gas station, in our malls,  and in our airports. We see these sweet older gentlemen with their hats proudly worn displaying who they served with and in what conflict. They don't wear them to be recognized, they wear them for the pure pride of serving their country. Our patriotism takes hold when without even thinking our pride wells up in our hearts for our veterans and we reach out a hand to shake theirs and say "Thank you for your service to this great nation and securing the freedoms for my children and I." The smiles and tears that fill their eyes is more than I can express in a simple blog, but it creates such a sense of pride and love on both sides. 


Patriotism comes with the need to help by volunteering for some of these groups such as Wounded Warriors, TAPS, SBE, any Veterans groups or the VA. Its about making a difference to those people who have served,  those who have come home broken and wounded and that fight everyday to heal and become whole again. Its about the families who have paid the ultimate price when their hero laid down their lives for you and to those groups who help to make the journey no matter what, easier to travel.


Patriotism comes from more than just the random things that people do on the days that they feel the NEED to do them, its about flying your flag on more than Memorial Day, Veterans Day and July 4th, its about flying that flag proudly every day of the year, about making sure its lit properly at night and by removing it and presenting it for proper disposal to a VFW. Its about taking a baseball cap off during the National Anthem and The Pledge Of Allegiance, its about a hand over a heart or a salute during both. Its about being teary eyed during a fly over, a lump in your throat at the sight of a flag on a house, or one of our many patriotic songs playing on the radio or at a function. Its about a flag at half mast when its appropriate, its about believing in the Constitution and what it stands for. Its about believing in the "American Dream" and what it takes to obtain it. But mostly its about standing up for all these things when they are threatened.


Patriotism is being proud of our great nation! Its about protecting and loving her and what she stands for. Its about not allowing others to tell us we cant fly a flag in our yards, not wear a t-shirt that has a flag on, not let our children draw a flag in school...its about standing up for what is important in our American History. Being patriotic means not allowing the Constitution to be ultered in any way to benefit anyone. Its about not allowing our laws to be broken or challenged by those who have no right in doing so. Its about taking a stand in what you believe in, even if you stand alone.


I personally have had patriotism and what it means to me change a few times in my life. I am not a born citizen I am a naturalized citizen. I took that oath to love, support and defend my country. I believe in what she stands for, what our fore fathers wanted for her and her people. When I became a citizen the sense of pride and patriotism tripled in me. I was so proud to be married to a soldier who served is country with no questions asked. I was so proud to be having a son who would be an American! I was so proud to now be an AMERICAN heart soul and by choice. Again my sense of patriotism changed again when 9/11 happened and I knew what that meant for our country and our military. I found that my pride grew again and filled my heart and soul with so much love for my country. I knew this meant MY husband would go to war and I stood behind that decision not politically but as an Army wife and proud American.  Then in 2006 I lost the love of my life to this war, I lost my love, my future, the father of my kids, one of the greatest men Ive ever had the pleasure of calling my husband and love.  Even through the pain and tears and heartache the love for country and pride that was instilled in me grew once again. I was more patriotic throughout my grieving process. I was more determined to let that shine now as I knew what it meant to   my husband, my hero and now a nations hero. 


Memorial Day is not happy, its a day to reflect on those who have paid the ultimate sacrifice for this country.....period, 4th of July is for celebrating this great Nation's birthday with BBQs and fireworks and family by your side, Veterans Day is a time to say "Thank you" to all those who served no matter if they were made to or not, and Armed Forces Day is to honor all those served in all Branches. My flag flies everyday, and when its old and tattered its taken down, folded properly and taken to a VFW to be laid to rest. A new flag is flown in its place as there is never a day that there is not a flag on my home.  I say The Pledge Of Allegiance, I sing the National Anthem, all with my hand over my heart. I wear flags on my ball caps and t-shirts, as do my boys.  I have a flag on my car and there is NO ONE who will tell me that I nor my kids can not do so. I will fight for what we have always be able to do, show my patriotism and love for MY COUNTRY! After all this is a FREE country and therefore Patriotism is also a FREEDOM we rightly deserve. 


Patriotism is not a part time convenience which we should only show at special times of the year. Patriotism is something that should be in your heart and soul that you feel everyday. Something that makes you want to put your hand over your heart, salute, show respect for your country and even get teary eyed over.  Patriotism is a part of or should be a part of our everyday lives a part of who we are.....as much as breathing is.

Arlington National Cemetary

Arlington was a just a place that I had never been to but been taught about in school as we studied our wars and those who died in them.  For years I wondered about it and saw many pictures of Arlington, however it was still just a place and had, as most Americans no real baring on me. I wanted to visit it one day and had it on my list of things to do. 


In 1999, Chris and I were stationed at Ft. Bragg, North Carolina and were lucky enough to have the chance to spend Americas birthday with his Mom in VA and attend some amazing events that year. We decided to take a trip to Arlington mainly because I had never been there and I really wanted to go. We were newlyweds, a month to the day and going there with my new Military husband just seemed more than right.  As we drove on 260W, we passes the grounds of Arlington. I could see from the road the immaculate grounds, perfect white rows of endless tombstones, the gorgeous old trees that shaded and protected those beneath her limbs and leaves. 


We parked, and began our journey into Arlington. There is no words for the feelings that came over me. Breath taking and sobering are what they were but seem so little now as I look back. We walked through the gates and I found myself feeling an odd sense of peace and pride. We walked around as I placed little flags that I had insisted we buy from Michael's as we were leaving, which annoyed Chris but he humoured me and went in to get them.  We decided to go and see the changing of the guard and as we stood and watched in awe of the precision and dedication these men took in protecting and honoring The Tomb Of The Unknown, Chris noticed a Cason and stood there intensely watching it as it made its way down the winding road past all the rows of white pristine headstones. He walked to the edge of the road to see it better. As he stood there ridged with a salute and tear that had formed making its way down his cheek, he took a deep breath. After lowering his salute, he turned to me, took my hand and kissed it, looked at me and said "where else should a military hero be buried? This is where I want to be one day when I die, and you need to be here with me as well, okay?" he kissed my hand again and we walked around some more. As we walked his words weighed heavily on my mind, for goodness sakes we had just gotten married what a thing to say to your new bride.  But I had to make sure that is what he really wanted so I asked once more if that was really what he wanted and he said "Yes, I want you and I to be here at the end where our kids one day can come and visit us with love and pride".  WOW he really had thought about it in those fleeting moments as he stood there in a salute to honor whom ever it was that was being laid to rest that day. For a few days after that the thought just stayed with me but after time faded into the depths of my memory as all things do with everyday life.  


I will never forget that day. But as life and irony would have it, seven years later I was back at Arlington, fulfilling his last wish to be buried in the one place that we thought was the ultimate honor as a soldier to be buried.  That particular day did not strike me as anything but the day I would be leaving Chris never to see him again. The day I would say my last good bye to the man who held my heart and I would love and miss forever from that moment on. A day that was very cold and had been raining, but as his Cason; now making its way down that very same winding road; that he stood watch over in a salute seven years ago as it past all the pristine white stones... the rain stopped and a ray of sun came shining through, but as it only lasted a few moments and then it was gone again leaving us with a cold cloudy day. Fitting the mood very well. But any thoughts beyond that and Arlington was pushed far back to the depths of my mind. 


A year later they boys and I went up to Virginia to see Chris' Mom and send that Memorial Day with her and go visit Chris. As we drove up to Arlington I got a knot in my throat and couldn't breath. Chris' Mom asked me if I was okay and I said it was just so hard to see. She held my hand and said "its okay honey, we'll do it together".  We drove slowly winding around to Section 60 which Im not even sure I knew until that moment was the section he was buried in.  We pulled up and parked and I just sat there looking out the window, thinking "what on earth were we doing here, this can be where he is"  I got out and got the boys out all the while looking around like a stranger and feeling very alone.  We walked down past the Holy Tree and I knew he was six stones down from that, the odd things we remember. I stood in front of his headstone and a rush of emotions came over me and the tears just flowed as if I was right back on that day he was buried. I looked up to see the boys watching me and quickly composed myself. But as I did I saw the rows and rows of those that were behind him, slowly turning I realized there were now two more rows in front of him, how is that possible that that many families were now affected as I had been. No I wanted it to stop with me, never wanted another family to face this pain, loss and incredible feeling of loneliness. 


Two years later we decided to go back and see Chris' Mom and go see Chris. I think before that it was just too much to bare. But I had done a huge amount of healing and felt as though it would be very good for us.  This time going to Section 60, although was sad, more rows had been added after all; there was a calm feeling and a feeling of pure pride.  My hero was there, were he belonged, with all his fellow comrades and that was a comfort for the first time. This time as I looked up I was back in awe of the beauty and splendor of Arlington. The history and love and patriotism that befalls that amazing place just took my breath away.  I walked around placing flags (and giggling as I did remembering who irritated Chris was at me for making him get them in 199) on all my fellow widster's heroes graves. And then on the newest ones, the ones with no marker yet, the ones that were still fresh and new and so painful to see knowing a family was just beginning their journey.  But the pride and sense of calm serenity I had this time was a comfort to me. 


Being there now it's even more breath taking, even more amazing, even more sobering but now there is a difference, my husband, my hero, now a nations hero and the father of my children is a part of that history that so many see and stand in "awe" over when they visit just as I did in 1999. I will be going back up this Memorial Day and I know there will be a huge sense of pride and joy but with a twist of sorrow as there will be a family member missing at his gravesite this year. And I will make sure both know they are so very loved.

"Happy" Memorial Day???

Every year at this time I fight with the idea that people tell me "Happy Memorial Day". People that know me, know what Ive gone through... still say it to me. Family still says it. For the rest who say it, do you think that there is anything "happy" at all about remembering all those who have died for this country? I blog about this every year and I dont think there will ever be a year that I dont. When I hear those three words my skin crawls.

"Happy Memorial Day"...it seems to just flow of the tongues of those around us. As though Memorial Day is just any other "holiday" to be celebrated with joy and happiness. When someone says "Hey Happy Memorial Day" what exactly are they so "happy" about? Maybe its the extra 20% or 30% they will get off beach towels at Macys, or maybe its the fact that they are off work, cooking out and not paying any attention to why they are really off work. Do these "happy" people take any time during their day off to share a moment thinking of those who paid the ultimate price for them to be off work and cooking out, or shopping "the big sale"??

Do people take the time to teach and show their children the importance of Memorial Day? Do they take them to a National Cemetery and show them all the lives that have been lost, tell them what that means for those who are still alive? Do they educate their children to show respect to those who have fallen for all the freedoms we take for granted every damn day? Do they just take a moment, a simple moment in their day to show that they care, or understand what the day is about?

My first Memorial Day I was not willing to admit that it had anything to do with Chris. We had always gone and placed flags at grave sites on this day. My first Memorial Day I did the same thing with Oliver and Owen in tow. But on that first one, there were more deaths. A CPT Alex Funkhouser was killed while in the line of duty not only to his country but to US reporters in Iraq. I knew that all that I had been feeling since January 5, his wife would now feel too. My heart broke for I knew every Memorial Day she would have a double heart wrenching reminder of her husband's death. I knew that she would face Memorial Day and the 29th of May, double days for her. Little did I know that this wife, now a new widow like me would become one of my best friends. Little did I know that she had two girls close to my two boy's age. Little did I know that our lives ran in such a parallel manner.

My second Memorial Day I took the boys and we went to Virginia to see Chris' mom. I wanted to spend this Memorial Day with Chris at Arlington. I wanted the boys to see that they were not only, not alone; but that they could still be near their father. As that day went on there were more cameras taking pictures of them by the Chris' grave.(One made it to the front page of the Washington Post the next day) There were families that just stood there, paying their respects and as the tears flowed down their cheeks they watched Oliver fix a flag by Chris' grave. They watched Owen pluck the heads of the flowers there and they watched a mother with tears in her eyes as she realized this was her reality, this was her life. Watching her two boys "play" with or by their father...the only way they ever would be able to.

As I looked around and saw their faces, their tears and their heads shaking back and forth; I realized that yes there are those out there that dont say "Happy Memorial Day", they come to Arlington to pay their respects to OUR fallen. They come to be with those who have paid the ultimate and spend time with their families. There was a father there, in uniform and beside him was his little son in BDUs. They stood at attention as TAPS played. I was so taken by this that I asked him why he does this with his son and he said "death is a part of life, death for your country is going beyond what life can offer" "I want my son to realize what this day is for. Not just a day off school or work, I want him to understand and respect the magnitude of what and who and why we have set this day aside to honor and remember those who have died in combat". I burst into tears, gave him a big hug and as I let go of him he and his son saluted the boys and I and then went to salute Chris. (Gosh I have tears running down my face typing this) I have never seen the true meaning in any one person's eyes of what Memeorial Day means to them then that of those eyes that day.

So I ask that if you dont know anyone who has been affected by a war death, to please at least teach your children what Memorial Day is for. Take them to a National Cemetary and place a few flags, go on and google Memorial Day, teach them about what this day means. This is just a small thing to do, teach your kids what this country is about, teach them why we need to stand up for it, love it, and protect it. That is the BEST way to honor our fallen, those who faught and died for what they beleived in. For those familieas that struggle everyday without their loved one, this is a small gesture for them too. It tells us that our loved one, did not die in vein. If you do know someone who has lost someone to a war, this one or any previous, please take the time to just tell them you are thinking about them, you are greatful and love them. But please dont say "Happy Memorial Day" to them...for us there is nothing "happy" about it.

To all my widsters that might read this, know that on Memorial Day, your Anniversaries and every day of the year, I think of OUR HEROES! I think about your families, your pain, your hearts your children and your happiness. For those who have lost a family member to previous wars, my heart and my thoughts are always with you too. Thank you for your loved ones service to our great nation, I am forever in their debt for their sacrafice.

May this Memorial Day bring you comfort in knowing that our Great Nation aknowledges and says "Thank You" for the sacrafice OURS and THEIR HEROES have made for us and them!

May we raise a glass to OUR HEROES! WE love you...We miss you...We are proud of you....We are forever YOURS!

Inspirations...

As I sit here thinking of all the inspirations in my life, I can only smile because my mind is flooded with some of the most amazing people and situations. I have been lucky to have an over abundance of them in the last five years that have truly given me the tools to be the most inspired person I can be. And in turn hopefully inspiring to other for which our paths have crossed.


Ill begin with the two most precious inspirations, my two boys. I know I have said this many times before, but without those two sweet little guys Im not sure I would be here today. My pain was immense in the beginning as we all know too well. My reason for getting up every day and facing the day, even if it was less than half the effort it should have been; was simply for them. They were my inspiration, their beautiful, perfect smiling faces, their contagious, purely happy laughs that filled a very sad and lonely house. The hugs that engulfed not only my leg or waist but my heart and soul. When I looked into their eyes and saw an amazing combination of them and their Dad, there was no way to be anything but inspired by the two most amazing little men ever. They inspire me everyday to be a better person, better Mom and live each day to the fullest. I cant thank my boys enough for what they have given me and brought into my life. A happiness that honors their Dad and makes me want to live!  


My biggest and most constant inspiration is Christopher. I strive every day to make him proud of me and on those days that I don't do the best job, I feel like I've let him down. He was filled with pride, honor and love for his country, family and friends. I never want to feel as though I am not doing my absolute best by him. I know there are those days but then I just try harder to make the next day count for more. When I think of what he would want for myself or the boys it makes things easier to face and handle. He was my biggest inspiration in life and he remains that in death. Somethings don't change even in death, love and inspiration are two. He loved me unconditionally and with his whole heart. He will forever inspire me to be the best I can, take make the choices that best fit our family and to be that which he so admired in me.


I have, through this journey found the most incredible inspiration through my widsters. We have all been through hell and back, there is no doubt about that. There are some who have multiple blows that still fight everyday to be the best they can. I know that no matter what the day brings I will have my widsters by my side, to love me, make me laugh and help me up when Ive fallen. That alone makes the days worth living and livable. Those who have been there know who they are and know that I absolutely love and adore them to no end. My widsters have written books, created groups to help and inspire others, volunteered time to others in need, put their wants and needs on hold for others, some make jewelry, some to golf tournaments, others get involved in groups that already exist and do their best to help fellow widsters. 


There are those things in life that don't have to do with anyone that I also catch myself finding inspire me. One being an absolutely perfect blue sky, gorgeous day, smile of a stranger, kind words from those you never expected to hear from, a movie that transports you to another place in time, or a song that flashes a memory into your conscious that you had forgotten about. A quote or saying, a poem, a short story or maybe just a simple thought that becomes a life changing moment that inspires me to move forward. All small things but all things that can inspire me to be better. 


I find inspiration in so many amazing things in life. The determination in one person to make their lives better even in the face of hardship and complications is a true inspiration for me. I have a person in my life that at this moment is fighting like hell to find happiness and their determination to do so, inspires me and makes me believe that anything is possible.


With all the inspiration around me, I find it hard to do anything but strive everyday to do the right thing and follow my heart to inspire others. So I take each day and each inspiration and make the very best out of it. 


My father has got to be one of my biggest inspirations. He is the single most amazing man I have ever had the pleasure of knowing and calling Dad. He has overcome and faced so much in his life and I am sure he will remain the biggest influence in my life to this day.  He still at 80 inspires me to be the best I can and strive to be honest, open and who I am.

The Honesty In It All....

Its the only way to truly heal...

I suppose the idea of sharing the down right brutal honesty about pain and the recovery of it is more than most are willing to do. However I alway hope that in sharing what I have gone through, there might just be a widow out there who reads it and says "Oh my that is so me and thank god Im not alone" so with that thought in my brain and computer in hand, I will blog today about my first two years on my grief journey and the "abuse" that surrounded that time, simply in hopes to help someone else come to terms with their own. 


When Chris died, there was no simple way to face it as so many think. There was no easy way to "get over it" or "deal with it", better yet there was no handbook or manual; trust me I tore this house upside down looking for it. Begging to find something that would give me even a simple outline to follow. But alas, much to my teary decent onto the cold floor of despair there was nothing. No help, no book, no manual, no nothing. Just me and my overwhelming grief and pain. How was that supposed to help me? I couldn't for the best part of the day see what I was doing from the swollen, red puffy eyes that I was constantly struggling to look through. Not to mention the cloudy, fuzzy and mostly hazy brian I was left to function with.  Something happened to me, and Im not sure if its all widows that experience this but for me, the best way to explain this is to compare it to a stroke. My brain was firing off at will making no sense, and then there are the connections that have been lost for good, memory is a huge one....wait what was a saying again?  Oh yes, memory; see?  :)  Things that never bothered me before now are huge issues and those things that I hated seem to just be so insignificant. So all the while I was trying to cope and deal with the death of Chris, I had two small boys to contend with, their pain and grief, and then to add to it all myself along with my grief. How much can one person deal with? And because I thought it was my job to protect had help all those who were there with him I took on his guys and their pain as well, not to mention the idiotic asses in my family. Too much!


I moved to Florida four months after Chris was killed. For me I had to get out of where I was in order to heal, or so my misfiring brain thought.  The problem came after I moved and found myself to be lost in an abyss of loneliness and depression. Yes I said the big "D" word, depression and finally I can OWN that damn word. I had no idea how hard being in a new place with no one I knew and no help would be. But again alas there I was. I was also unpacking the house...alone, taking care of the boys.....alone (Owen was 9 months by this time), cleaning.....alone, cooking.....alone, grocery shopping.....alone, paying bills.......alone (not sure how that was even done on time)  and there was no relief is sight. Somehow in the fog and haze I managed the first year to struggle and stumble through it. It was the second year, the wake up call year, the fog is all gone year, the pain is too much to handle year that got to me and caused me to lean and become way too familiar with an old college friend known fondly as VODKA!


Now, lets put this out there; I was offered by two doctors any Rx that I wanted in those first two years and not once did I ever even entertain the thought of taking them up on the offer. I mean really if I was drugged out on even legal stuff who the heck was going to take care of my kids? Hell I was doing the minimal just to get by each day, what would drugs add to that? Besides that, I had taken Ambien and to be honest I know some swear by that stuff, but for me it caused me to hallucinate big time...Im talking little purple wizards hallucinations.  The door to drug abuse was wide open and for some reason in my again, misfiring brain that was much worse than my old friend Vodka could be, after all I was familiar with Vodka and had been friends but not good friends for many years.  


In my second year on this journey of widowhood, the pain was unreal! It was like when a boo boo is still oozing but its been a week so your mom RIPS that bandaid of pulling all the ooey gooey raw crud right off the top, exposing the very core of the pain.  It hurt worse than anything I had ever been through, and for gods sake WHY didn't someone warn me? I felt more alone than I ever had, how in the hell was I going to raise two little boys to be confident, happy men if I cant even see through all this to make myself feel that way??? Would there ever be a time when I would feel all those wonderful and amazing feelings I had before he died? Would I ever enjoy being a Mom to these two amazing little boys or would I just feel nothing and hope for the best?  And I know there are many that are in denial and would never admit any of this to anyone, but I don't see how that helps and I believe in that they are still doing damage to themselves and those around them.  So I admit and own those feelings and pain.


The days, to be honest were just filled with a numbness but I could deal with that. It was at night when the house was quiet and I was alone, in the light of the TV or simply in the dark because I couldn't muster the energy to turn it on; that I found out how intense the pain and loneliness really was. It seemed at that point is when I started to think of ways to numb the nights away too. To me that just made perfect sense. The boys were in bed and asleep and that left me to ponder and over analyze every last detail of the last moments with Chris....I was awake and in pain with no idea how to get way from it. Its a pain that no one understands but someone who has been through it and its the deepest pain I believe there is other than losing one of my kids, which I am sure would kill me. 


I believe the decision to "drown my sorrows" was not a conscious one at all. I cant even pin point when it really began, as I cant remember a lot from that time. So much was pushed away at that time that are still showing up even today. But I do remember going to the store and buying that over sized bottle of Vodka, you know that one that should take a normal human being that is not grief stricken about a year to drink? :) Yea that one! The one that if Costco sold it I would have become a member earlier...  I just know that when I saw it, it was a huge comfort to think I might be numb enough at night to not have to feel that intense pain that crept in every damn night and haunted me till my eyes were soaked, bloodshot and swollen. So I drank from the time the boys went to bed till about midnight. It wasn't straight and it wasn't shots but it was enough to drown and numb those demons and then some.  


This went on for a long while. For me anything past six months is a long while, especially in that time frame when all else seemed to drag on for a lifetime. I wanted it to go fast, the pain to leave as fast as it came and never show its face again. So I drank and I drank a lot. That bottle lasted maybe a month but Im not 100% sure since I was not paying attention to anything but getting through my days so I could get through my nights and start over.  I do know that that summer I would sweat Vodka and Im not kidding because I could smell it. And to those who say Vodka has no smell, it does and its pungent to me now.   Im pretty sure my blood was clear for those six months to a year.  I never got sick, never had a hangover and never wanted it during the day.  I will be the first to admit that I am not sure at all how I functioned during the day except to say that I was a functioning temporary alcoholic. And I say temporary because that is what it was. A moment in a lifetime that I lost control and my way and chose the more destructive way of handling things. 


I woke up one day soon after New Years 2008 and realized that I was not living. I have no idea what it was that did it but I knew what I was doing was not working at all.  As I lay there in bed, listening to the quiet house, all I could think about is how utterly disappointed Chris must be in me, how ashamed and how I had let him down. I am sure I cried in that moment more than I did when he died for the sheer fact that I never wanted to dishonor him or let him down. I curled up and cried for hours until I heard the boys watching cartoons. I got up, washed my face, which did nothing to hide the swollen red eyes but luckily they were young enough that they didn't really notice. I walked into the kitchen, got the bottle that I realized it had multiplied like a little frozen bunny in my freezer by three and poured them all out one by one in a ceremonial manner that lifted a HUGE burden and weight off my shoulders.  I threw the bottles away and decided at that moment there would be no more drinking for a long time if ever, as I was unsure how deep this had gone. 


For six months I did not touch any alcohol at all. After that I took it one day at a time, one situation at a time and for a long time only drank beer. I have found now that I really don't want to drink and if I have a glass of wine that is all I have. If I have a mixed drink then its one and a beer or two but I know the feeling and I don't like it. So I enjoy watching others makes asses out of themselves knowing I am not. Drinking is no longer a crutch, an escape, or a numbing agent. I can socially and with confidence that it will not take over my life again.


Lesson learned is that no matter what you have been through, the pain and need to heal from it is not something you can hide from, drown in a bottle of Vodka or make go away. You have to face it and once you do that healing process begins and you don't need the crutch and it becomes a non issue.  Good lesson learned.

Broken Wings...

A Poem…Broken Wings…

They are not tied, they are broken.
They lay so still, they do not open.

They ache to feel the wind benethe them, they long
To stretch , to fly to soar.
So long they sat still, not wanting to move,
not wanting to feel not wanting the pain.
Will they ever soar again, will they ever fly?
Will my wings mend? Will they feel the wind?

They are healing, they are opening, they are stretching
They are painful no longer, they are ready to soar!
I spread my wings, I feel their power, I feel their strength
I feel the wind benethe them!
I take flight, I soar, I see that I am broken no more!
My wings will hold me, my wings will guide me my wings
Will be ….ME! 

Do you see ME or do you see....

Do you see….ME? 


Do you see me, or do you just see the 
Title I was handed but did not want? 

The one that screams WIDOW!!!! 

Do you see my heart, or do you just see the 
Shattered and scattered pieces? The ones 
That I work so hard to put back together, do you see that? 

Or do you just see the WIDOW? 

Do you see my strength, or do you just see failure? 
Do you pitty me because you think my life is so hard? 
Do you think that I have done enough or still have far to travel? 

Or do you just see the WIDOW? 

Would you give me a chance or walk away? 
Would you be strong enough to be with me, would you be? 
Or would you love me from a distance... 
Never giving me the chance, to possibly love you too? 

Would you ever...could you ever see me or... 
Do you see just a widow?