Aren't all these notes and senseless writings just that of a person who won't accept the fact that there is nothing we can do with suffering except suffer it? And grief still feels like fear. Perhaps, more strictly, like suspense. Or like waiting; just hanging about waiting for something to happen. It gives life a permanently provisional feeling. It doesn't seem worth starting anything. I can't settle down. I yawn, I fidget, I smoke too much. Up until this, I always had too little time. Now there is nothing but time. Almost pure time, empty successiveness. So here I am. I think - oh my, do I think! I write. I indulge. I hate. and I love and love. ::::::

THOUGHTS
(Perhaps crazy - nonetheless, I am free to question, to feel, to think, and to ask)

Here Goes:

If the dead are not in time, or not in our sort of time, is there any clear difference, when we speak of then or now or soon, between was and is and will be?

They tell me she is happy now, she is at peace... --- (Of Course, Jeanette - why accept this reassuring, pleasant answer, when you can rack your brain? daily? For no clear purpose other than 'I CANNOT ACCEPT ANSWERS THAT SEEM SO LOVELY AND SO SIMPLE WHEN I HAVE SEEN SUCH HORROR AND COMPLICATIONS EVERYWHERE ELSE'):
Why should the separation (if nothing else) which so agonizes the loved one who is left behind (me - being one of many) be completely painless to the one who departs after their "departure"? Where is this logic? Anyone would answer in the same manner.  Anyone who meant well at least. Anyone who wasn't coinsidentally (if possible) feeling the exact agony and questioning the same idiotic logic that has been bestowed on them as well. When I use the term anyone - I am referring to believer and non-believer alike.  The answer that "anyone' would give to this question is: FAITH.

FAITH
You never know how much you really believe anything until its truth or falsehood becomes a matter of life and death to you - personally. Only a real risk tests the reality of a belief.

Card players say that there must be some money on the game 'or else people won't take it seriously.' Apparently its like that. Your personal, spiritual bid - for God or no God, for a good God or a Cosmic Sadist, for eternal life or non entity -- will not be serious if nothing much is staked on it. How could it be? Who cares to win a card game, just to claim "I win!" ? -  And you will never discover how serious your bid was until the stakes are raised horribly high, until you find that you are playing for every penny you have in the world. Nothing less will shake a person - or a person like me - out of my merely verbal thinking and merely notional beliefs. I had to be knocked silly before coming to my "senses". Ironically, I was simply knocked senselessly. Only torture will bring out the truth. Maybe this torture is my test? Why?!! This SUCKS.

And furthermore, if my house- meaning 'my faith' - was built -by me - as a house of cards, I should believe that the sooner it was knocked down the better. Right? Time ticks by.... the quicker you learn, the more time you have to fix your mistakes and start over - and do it the better way. Right?  And only this pure suffering could knock me down. So this is good? What?!

Does this make me incurable? Does this make me insane? Or does this make me saner than some, maybe than most? - I witness all my dreams - my innocence - my 'ideals' smashed to bits and I mope and cry and mourn and wallow - only to relax and start rebuilding my house - my faith. Will I continue to build a house of cards, watch it fall, only to build it once again...and maybe even again? Who is to say I will build it stronger, or have even learned anything about building it the "right way"? Is that what I am doing now?

I pray my "restoration of faith" will turn out to be more than one more 'house of cards.' And it crazes me to no end when I realize that I won't know until the next blow comes. This thought alone leaves me currently paralyzed in truth - REALITY.

Do I begin again? Do I rebuild? Am I capable? Will God present himself to me again and guide me to build a house of faith and a foundation that cannot be smashed as violently?

And here - the worst question of all comes to mind::  so difficult to think, even more painful to say out loud, and almost impossible to write. (I said almost) ---
"If I attempt to rebuild, if I aim to restore - or better yet - find my truest faith - will God allow me time to build a strong enough house before the next "blow" comes? Before the next punch in the gut? Before another chunk of my heart can be ripped out?"

This is not meant to be negative, this blog never was meant for negativity - just answers - but I can say with assurance that God did NOT allow me enough time to heal from my first "blow"- if there is a way to heal from such a loss - last time ----  Before I could even make sense of the fact that I had lost a parent - my Daddy - before I had even found the courage to try and face this harsh reality - another "unthinkable" happened. Was I meant to lose my mind?  If so, I can promise this - I have NOT lost my mind.  My mind is a constant, unstoppable force, of which I have complete control.  I can say that it is possible that I sometimes wish that I lost my mind.  But no.  I have not. 

Tonight's conclusion. (At least written conclusion - I have no doubt I will continue to ponder these philosophies throughout the night)

I can write forever. This is my mind. My mind can be my worst enemy. And worse yet, when my mind and heart team up - they are ruthless.

My question remains unanswered for now:

"Why should I 'rebuild' my house of faith when it can so obviously be knocked down before I can even lay the floor plans?"

Labels: Not meant to be negative . This is a journey that I hope to climb to the top of. Proudly and honestly.

I had yet another dream about Elena. This one, however, was very very different.


In every single dream prior to this one - Elena was there, but it was usually a social gathering - almost like a wedding - with some sort of assigned seating. She was Always at a different table. She was always as beautiful as ever and smiling and socializing and just exuding her natural, flawless "Elenaism". However, I would always witness this perfection of her in my dream from a distance, yet never, not even once, be able to approach her, never mind talk to her. Almost as if I was the one that no longer "existed." Mind you, she looked happy as ever... but I would wake up every time upset that we couldn't communicate. That she wouldn't even look my way. That she no longer "needed" me....

This dream though-the dream that I had last night, as most 'dreams' are, was nothing short of weird - but it was great! - in a morbid sort of way that could never be explained, so please don't ask me why I am even writing this:::

She was with me as normal, just like old times. As if she has been here the whole time. We were just accompanying one another on our daily 'errands'. We were having so much fun and laughing the whole time - together.

At one point, we went to my doctor appointment. At first, I thought the dr. was checking us both out and then I remembered Elena was no longer alive. Call it a "lucid dream" if you will, and I asked her if she was still 'dead' and she said "yes, of course," and laughed as if it was funny of me to not know that completely. (Our banter usually consisted of her finding my 'airheadedness' amusing.)

Yet, for some reason, this was ok - for both of us. I just re-accepted it, and we carried on....

I can't interpret dreams. Maybe the doctor office looked so much like the hospital - where I last saw her - because that is what my imagination created. - haven't a clue.

Apparently, she just came to the dr. with me, as one of our menial tasks that day - and her company made that errand fun.

Except, the problem was, I kept talking to Elena and to the medical staff, it looked as though I was talking to myself. I repeatedly asked the dr. : "Can't you see her??!".

Then the dr. began ignoring me and Elena and I shared some more of our laughter and fun.

I assume th dr. became concerned with my 'visions' because she called in more staff, so I simply ignored them while Elena and I were laughing like all was well in the world. Yes - the simple, off doctor appointment was a highlight of my life and so much fun.

Then, the dr. and staff began arguing about the number of prescriptions to give me. (Yes-I said this was A. a dream and B. Weird) I'm pretty sure I was then diagnosed a "paranoid schizophrenic".

I woke up then. Happy. That was my first time "spent" with Elena since July 11, 2009.

A major part of each and every misery is, so to speak, that misery's shadow. In layman's terms: It is not only the agonizing fact that you merely suffer - but the harsh truth that you have to/must continue to be reminded and keep on thinking about the fact that you so helplessly suffer.

I not only live each grueling moment of my day in the sewer of my grief, but I live each day continuously thinking about my life living in this grief.

There is grief. It sucks.

When the grief is not paralyzing - the thoughts about the fact that I must/will live each other moment in sheer grief is enough to make anyone comatose.

Labels: Another facet of Grief

It almost seems – NO – It is cruel, so cruel - that her passing was so unbelievably sudden, so delayed, & her life was just stolen from her; from us all.
However, even crueler so is that it was allowed to last long enough for me to grow to love her so wholeheartedly and so completely - that she filled my world entirely with God's greatest gift of love, companionship, security, and "knowing" she would "always" be there and then..... Suddenly…

... lightning struck - and inconceivably (still, in this very moment) a red-jabbed stab in my core is ripped out and I was/am unprepared, horror-stuck, catatonic, and hurting in an indescribable agony for the loss of her, not only for my loss; for the loss of her family, for the loss of all who loved her for her - to have this unparalleled person – so FULL of life (and I Can say it now – DIE) and result in the Death of my sister, my best friend, my soul mate – with no way for any of us to foresee or to prepare, in a surreal instant and even crueler so, the physical pain above the emotional agony is even greater; not simply as intense, but so penetratingly forceful it is impossible to ignore. Well, this rocked my world and knocked the wind out of me; knocked me Senselessly (and still does, daily)



Here is the ultimate cruelty that I have uncovered and the main point that I have been trying to get to for a time now:



This left me, alone in a place where her presence (not her mere memory), but her physical presence and LIFE and spirit and laughter and positivity and hope - was ripped away - leaving me alone –left to live as a false representation of what I was. Because I was never ME. I am now my partial self - what is left of me at least – and now in a place where her mere presence in my life HAD CREATED ME and she Created it for me.
She is me. I was her. There was no Jeanette. There was only Jeanette and Elena. Now how can I find Jeanette without her to tell me who I am? How can I live the way she taught me, when she WAS my guide and I am endlessly searching for her?

I don't know who I am or need to be. I only know Jeanette/Elena. I have to take everything she taught me and carry on her spirit for life for her and more selfishly - for me to live

I need to continue. A new life. A life she will always be a part of, but can never be my other half. I need to find my other half within me and me alone and within what she brought me to care about and to understand.
I will never be the same. I thank God he gave her to me. I just pray he can keep her with me in whatever sense is possible.

As I began: This is Nothing short of Cruel.

The worst part is, maybe I am the cruel one. I disgust myself when I wallow in this self-pity, grief, and misery. Elena, I am not trying to misrepresent you in ANY way, I am just attempting to learn to live without you, because I have no choice.

I love you so much.

Elena is an angel.

Labels: Elena

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