Driving That Train…or Vacation!

Driving that train…

No. Not the Casey Jones’ song as I wasn’t driving any train and LORD truly knows I don’t do cocaine!!

But…

I was on a train, an Amtrak train.

Rolling, rolling, rolling up to Massachusetts to Arlington.

To be exact en route to visit my niece, my adopted niece who I consider family as my mom considered her to be.

It’s all good…

It has been a while and let’s be transparent and say years since I had a vacation. My vacay buddy, mom (who will forever be 91 years) could no longer travel and I decided to stay close to home near her. Mind you, she didn’t agree with my decision but felt comforted knowing I was just upstairs.61060119_10219548377085814_932831570585190400_n

But onto traveling for the first time in so long.

As I mentioned before, I was on an Amtrak train, not driving but here’s a look at what a driver might have seen:

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For the longest time I planned to visit my niece and mom’s upcoming birthday, oh better yet, first birthday without her here on earth, seemed appropriate enough, to get on that train.

And I did…

Rolling, rolling, rolling.

Amtrak rocked and cradled my bod as green trees and concrete buildings passed by the window. 200.gif

Leaving NYC…

so exciting, when the mind is in the present.

Returning NYC…

not exciting when the mind is in the present.

Ease of transportation had avoided my niece for a while, regulating her to trains and buses. Luckily, she inherited her mom’s used Toyota Yaris!

So, she drove…

and refused to let me drive through turn arounds, round abouts’ or whatever you wanna call them.

All good because…

on Mom’s birthday we drove.

We drove to Gloucester and walked along the cold sandy grey beach with dark clouds floating over our heads. The cold sand massaged my feet and grounded my soul.IMG_0814.jpg

So needed…

with grieving and missing you.IMG_0822.JPG

 

 

 

 

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The Fisherman’s Memorial, the picture I took of the names of the fisherman lost at sea and portrayed in the movie; ‘The Perfect Storm’ stirred in mi alma.
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The families of those men and myself share the final ending of knowing a loved one will not be returning.

At Lexington, I learned more about the Revolutionary War than I cared to absorb but…IMG_0840.jpg

I was grateful to have the history told to us by a volunteer dressed in clothing of the time. IMG_0833.jpg

Harvard, yes, we went there.

Although the trip wasn’t to visit the photography archives of the United Fruit Company, a research project I was so into while aiming for my Masters, being on campus was a reminder of what is still attainable, still researchable.

We stopped at a GAP where I bought ‘boyfriend Chino pants’ and argued with my niece because…well that’s what we do and we do it well.

Vegan Galaxy?!!!!

Best Vegan joint I’ve eaten at. The place makes their own vegan burger which just may surpass Impossible Burger.

Along our driving we ventured to the quarry at Halibut Point. At that point I was tired and wanted to get the cake mom always had at our birthdays.IMG_0825.jpg

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We drove to Woodman’s and ordered two slices of Strawberry Shortcake which was mom’s favourite cake to have on our birthdays.

Once we arrived at my niece’s apartment we broke out the cake and I must say it was the best Strawberry Shortcake I ever, ever, ever, ever…

had.

Thank you, mom for I feel you had a hand in this day, your birthday and making sure I enjoyed it to the fullest with my niece, who you accepted as family.

Happy Birthday Mom, my mom!

Rolling, Rolling, Rolling…no. Running, Wobbling, Running…

Marathon #2 sits on the horizon and, god willingGod Willing I’ll cross that line again.

Marathon #1 was an all-out disaster that almost didn’t happen due to my mom’s illness but did happen due to my mom’s illness and her unrelenting push for me to train.

I trained through, tears, stress, worry and crossed the line many times arguing with incompetent doctors who destroyed my mom’s will to live and her health

And,

I finally crossed THAT LINE at the end of the marathon which my mom did not live to see.

-Actually, she did see, for she was on the corner of Sackett Street and Fourth Avenue, just not in this realm and as I woggled towards that street, I stopped, crossed myself and bowed for the Queen.

So,

back to Marathon #2 in which training has not officially begun but I’ve started anyway because well, I have nothing better to do than pound my knees via my feet kissing asphalt, concrete and dirt trails.

Love the trails, love my feet, love my knees, hate the dirt.IMG_0758.jpg

And at least I’m not kissing someone’s ass

So,

I’ll tie up the laces tomorrow, that are tied already, just need to slip on the sneaker.

-(I’ll set the garmin, set the interval timer, wear the running glasses that get dark in the sun, put on the Panache Bra, set up the Spotify, put on the lip balm, make the Nunn for the water bottle, separate Tara-Habby from the treacherous cat posse  (worse than the Sharks but just like the Jets) out to dethrone the Queen ( not me this time)  and ultimately sit on the throne (corner of my bed).)

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The Green Throne

And hit the road…not like Jack in Ray’s song for

I’ll be coming back, god willing.

 

Tired, not sick and tired…just tired.

I am getting to the point where retirement is looking damn so good so good

But…

Don’t have that Big Fat Retirement pension coming my way,

(that’s what happens when you move from job to job)

as it’s always been hard to stay at one job for too long.

(you say that now, but that’s not what you thought while you were moving about)

I get bored, not because I’m boring but spending 35-40 hours a week with some co workers you’d never hang out with on your day off is boring.

(having your own business for 15 years can do that to you)

And there are those with positions of power who wave their condescending and micromanaging wands of glory directed towards Image result for people stifling your creativity

(I treated my assistants with respect and appreciation and was in awe I could hire them)

bursting a tiny bubble, well actually Big Bubbles of ideas and hopes and inspirations,

(creative people are a bit off their rockers and can get carried away with ideas…)

into shards of Papyrus paper needed for input into the databases of an excel spreadsheet that personifies an aged metal filing cabinet that

Image result for people stifling your creativity(pushing papers is basically water torture to those who have so much more to give)

is bent on being resistant to assault and fondling,

(as the creativity dies instead of glowing and rising through adversity)

I give up and give in. Nothing left to prove. The only proof needed to verify the my gifts earned through life is the proof HE and I alone share.

(Peace out to those who love being obstacles in another’s path. Your insecurities will eventually rot out your core.) Image result for people stifling your creativity

***images courtesy of the WWW, just because…

The Power of goodbye or …goodbye, pretty damn much the final curtain call

Grief is lingering and continues to show its fangs when least expected.

I wish I could just stay home from work for a month, get things in order and come to terms with dealing with the new normal grief has chosen to give to me as a present san bows and glitter.

A new normal I didn’t seek. 

But…

Work is work and dictates the attendance of 35 hours a week to maintain insurance benefits along with the coveted vacation accrued hours.

Well…

Grief

is here and not going anywhere too soon.

I think it’s going to stick around until the day I draw my last breath

Hopefully seeing the dead of family past at my bedside ready to welcome me into another realm will make that last breath worth its’ draw.

But…

Related imageIn the meantime, I’ll listen to music to numb the silence.

“Pain is a warning that something’s wrong

I pray to God that it won’t be long”

 -It will forever be long for pain has no expiration date, no renewal before expiration fees, no put it on a payment plan and go

Nothing…

“There’s nothing left to try

There’s no place left to hide” 

-What is there to try? I’ve cried and cried to block away the reality of goodbye and I’ve tried to hide behind substances legal or not to no avail

There’s nothing left to lose

There’s no more heart to bruise. 

– Heck I get to leave all that busy no nonsense stuff behind because what I’ve lost can never be replaced or substituted. Pi-Patel took my heart, Toby and Marge took mi alma.

Related image

There’s no greater power

Than the power of goodby

-The power of goodbye is accepting the finality of a goodbye. A goodbye so final it leaves a void of blackness after those words leave your lips

I loved so deeply three souls that made getting up each day worthwhile… so difficult to go to bed at night knowing you won’t be there in the morning

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I love you Butterfly

I love you boys

https://youtu.be/NHydngA5C4E

***images borrowed from the web –I adore the artist Avogado6  who captures my raw emotions

Serenity prayer or…feel so different

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference

Every morning I wake up with a broken heart and every night as I lay my head down on my mom’s pillow I try to keep the broken pieces from traveling far.

You are gone and it’s not even a question of accepting that reality but trying to adjust to a new reality that no longer includes you, my best friend and my mother.mom 2

October 7th, should have been a normal Sunday with you getting ready for church, asking me if I’d go and gathering your dollars for the plate collection.

Instead…

on October 7th, I woke at 2:15am and did not hear your breath with the oxygen machine.

I got up…

turned on the light and saw the look of vacancy on your face even though your eyes were closed.

I knew…

you were gone.

I felt your forehead which was warm to touch and my hand traveled to your back which was cold. I reached for my stethoscope and placed it on the honey coloured skin on top of your heart.Mom 1

No sound, no breath, an empty shell void of the pulse of life it once contained.

At first, I was relieved.

The previous day, as I held your hand, I begged you to go, to let go of the body that so betrayed you. To let go of the organs slowly shutting down. To let go of the month of starvation your body endured. To let go of the dependency on the morphine I resented giving you for I knew each dose sent you further into oblivion and I so badly wanted to see you smile at me with eyes that saw me and not death.

It is almost six months since you’ve gone.

The morphine and the Percocet sit in my medicine cabinet.

Sundays are bad and I always hold the vials in my hand contemplating, while being angry at you for not taking me with you. Each Sunday that passes the urge to take them diminishes.

You so loved life and I’m trying so hard to learn to love and dwell in it as you often wished I would.

 

Continue on…

I have no choice, trudging through trying to find the new ‘normal’ while desperately holding on to what was, knowing the was, is in the past and no longer has a place in the present.mom3

I so miss you mom, my butterfly and my best friend. You are at peace, flying through another dimension. I pray you will be there, when it’s my time, to welcome me into your world as you welcomed me into this world.

I love you.

Sometimes…or have a lot of time on hand.

 

‘Sometimes you need bad things to happen to inspire you to change and grow’

Sometimes…

Growth has no end or beginning.  Image result for sometimes

Sometimes…

Change is constant with no restrictions, boundaries or cut offs.

Sometimes…

Inspiration comes from places least expected.

Sometimes…

Things happen for a reason.

Sometimes…

There’s no logic to why things happen.

Image result for sometimesSometimes…

Bad things happen to good people.

Sometimes…

Bad things happen to bad people.

Sometimes…

Good things happen to good people.

Sometimes…

Nothing happens at all to anyone.    Image result for images of sometimes

Sometimes…

The way to win a battle is to walk away.

Sometimes…

Walking away leads to the battle.

Sometimes…

Dark, rainy grey clouds bring a smile.

Sometimes…

White cotton candied clouds make you sick.

Sometimes…

Silence is golden.

Sometimes…

Screaming profanities at high volume is bliss.

Sometimes…

Bliss.

Sometimes…

Disruption.

Sometimes    

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Smiling faces…or Reality Bites

I work with them and so do you…there’s no getting around it, no putting it on the side…you know who they are.  Image result for smiling faces

They smile in your face, play the extrovert full of empathy that’s really apathy meanwhile you see the fakeness, the fake emotions while they shove you under the bus.

“Play the game” close confidents whisper in your ear. Nod your head, say yes and pamper their whimsical hysterical demands. Hey, they make more than you so suck it up.

When the time comes when enough is enough, do you go postal, cursing with eloquent profanity, blazing high pitched and on target as you sashay out the door?

Or do you smile, weakly, tuck the tail up where the sun can’t shine, walk backwards out the door, bowing and saying, “Oh so sorry. Me quit”.

Who has the answers to dealing with those ‘smiling faces’ 35 plus hours a week?

I don’t.

Actually, I do.   Image result for smiling faces

From those packs of smiling hyenas there are those who shine through.

They are sincere…

They are supportive…

They are encouraging…

They are…

the coworkers you love to work with!

But always remember:

Smiling faces sometime pretend to by your friend

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