With Love

“Your life was a blessing, your memory a treasure. You are loved beyond words and missed beyond measure.” -Unknown

“When someone you love becomes a memory, the memory becomes a treasure”.

You were everything to me for nearly eighteen years. My heart is heavy today, as I look up at the box containing your ashes, a decision I had to make that broke me. I promise to move them into something special as soon as possible, and I promise to find a locket to keep you with me, always.

Ya lyublyu tyebya fsyei dushoj. (I love you with all of my soul.)

He Is Not Dead

“I cannot say, and I will not say
That he is dead. He is just away.
With a cheery smile, and a wave of the hand,
He has wandered into an unknown land
And left us dreaming how very fair
It needs must be, since he lingers there.
And you—oh you, who the wildest yearn
For an old-time step, and the glad return,
Think of him faring on, as dear
In the love of There as the love of Here.
Think of him still as the same. I say,
He is not dead—he is just away.”
―James Whitcomb Riley

In memory of my Uncle, who would have been sixty-five today. Te amo.

Some People, They Can’t Just Move On…

“Some people, they can’t just move on, you know, mourn and cry and be done with it. Or at least seem to be. But for me… I don’t know. I didn’t want to fix it, to forget. It wasn’t something that was broken. It’s just…something that happened. And like that hole, I’m just finding ways, every day, of working around it. Respecting and remembering and getting on at the same time. ” ―Sarah Dessen

*In Memory Of My Grandfather…Великою людиною дійсно ніколи не може бути втрачено або забуто- A great man can never truly be lost or forgotten.*

Mother & Daughter

motherdaughter

First friend; best friend.

The reason I am who I am.

The person who encouraged me never to follow, but always to lead.

Guide-post. Lighthouse. Anchor.

Part angel, part saint.

The best listener.

Could always see the best in me, even when I didn’t believe there was any.

Teacher of so much.

Giver of books, music, art, culture, and life.

Laughter ’til we cried.

Taught me, in part, how to be a mother with a very simple gift.

Saw my talents clearer than anyone else.

Hated it when friends disappointed, lied, and hurt me. Enraged when men did the same.

Was always in awe of my strength.

Was not afraid to lean on me and allow me to be strong when she was not.

My first audience.

Lover of sunsets, rainbows, lilacs, and cats.

Honesty, Integrity, Loyalty, Love, Friendship.

You thought I was the blessing, but I know with certainty that I was blessed to have you as my mother.

You worked two jobs, took care of your children, and never once looked back. That is immense heroism.

Small aspects of who you are and what you mean to me.

Words fail…

bluebutterflies

I learned from my mother, but I also taught her in kind. Our relationship was one of kindred spirits. I’m strong and fierce because she was not able to be that kind of woman, having been raised differently. She encouraged my voice because she often felt she did not have one that others would listen to. She is the reason I am a supremely confident writer.

Days like today are very hard. They are made easier when one can honor their loved one, in their own attempt to heal. Truth be told, I don’t think one can ever repair the hole inside my heart at such a devastating loss, but I’m trying.

lilacs

“Serenity is yours.
When chaos looms seek the sweet
Surrender of simplicity.
Gaze above at the glassy sky,
Feel each blade of green
Beneath your feet,
Listen to the sound of faith
Like a reed flute playing
Inside your chest.
Breathe.
Stand in witness of
Your true nature.
Remember the compassion
Of the lover’s eyes,
The calm wisdom of
The elder’s voice.
Go within. Be at rest without.
Fall to your knees in gratitude.
You have all you need.
Turn from the riot of distraction.
Let it roll over and beyond you.
Serenity is yours.
It lives always within your reach.”

-Ching Qu Lam

copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Spiritual Awakening

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I woke up this morning hearing my name being called. At 4:00 a.m. I woke up screaming, mostly because I’m tired, in pain, and did not want to be disturbed. I truly wanted to wake up refreshed, even if it meant I had to take something for pain later on, I just wanted the goddamn rest!

But when I sat up and took inventory, the only noise was from the central air, lightly blowing heat into the room (It was freezing last night, which is a far cry from how warm it has gotten since then.). I decided to investigate this further. For starters, I was pissed and two, I had just scared the hell out of cat and kitten, who had been sound asleep with me; one wrapped around me like ivy, the other off to the side staring at me like I’d just grown three additional heads.

In fairness, I checked EVERYTHING. Lights off? Check. TV off? Check. Cell phone off? Check. Anything else that could or would make noise was either unplugged or nowhere near me to actually be saying my name repeatedly. So, that took care of logic. But the simple fact is, in my life, where intuition rules and logic does not, why was I bothering to go with logic at all when I already knew that I’d turned every single thing off the night before?

It’s not like it was “noise”. It was a man’s voice repeatedly calling out for me. If that’s weird to you, I have to say that it’s par for the course in my life. Unfortunately, the voice was not distinctive, so I can’t say for sure who it was that needed me to wake up and pay attention.

When things of this nature happen, the first thing I do is check the time. That’s probably odd to the everyday, average person, but to someone who has studied numerology and has her life path number tattooed on her, it’s not odd at all. Spirits will often communicate to people in symbols, and numbers and time are two things that are easy enough to catch when they are repetitive. The time-frame was off, so I can only say that I’ve been thinking about a male relative for the last few days. Earlier, when I was cleaning out my closet, I found something of his and put it in the “Keep” pile immediately, pausing briefly because I have NO idea how it got in my closet, or when.

This relative passed away almost four years ago. I’m shocked that so much time has passed because it still hurts me as if it just happened.

Soon after his very sudden passing, I had a dream where he let me know he was okay. Again, this is not uncommon in my life. Lately, I’ve found myself avoiding photos, video, and anything pertaining to him because I often think “If he were here, he’d fix this.” or “If he were here, everything would be better.” He was more than just my family, he was the person that automatically had your back no matter what. He was the person who did things for you that he did not have to do, and he did it completely out of love, not because he wanted anyone to be indebted to him, be it figuratively or other. He worked hard, loved hard, cared hard, and he never made me feel like I was anything short of ridiculously special.

Some people’s lives are cut short by things they didn’t know they had, like a bad heart or cancer that gave the person no indication whatsoever that something was wrong. I’ll never forget getting the news, because my brother had to be the one to tell me. He knew in advance that this was NOT going to go well. I saw him visibly cringe before he spoke. I was halfway down my stairs when he spit the words out. I nearly fell those last few steps. I remember sinking to the floor at the bottom of the stairs in absolute disbelief. I actually said “You’re lying.”

He wasn’t. I spent months obsessing over every single detail that led to his death. It still haunts me.

I’ve lost a lot of people in my life, but I always said that if I lost my mother and him, I’d have to be buried with them. I lost my mother three years before I lost him. Their dates of death are just days apart. I lost her to damn near the exact same thing. Both too young to die. Both stolen from me. Both let me know they were okay within three days of passing away.

A lot of people think their mind is playing tricks on them; that they want to see their loved one so badly that they’re seeing “what they want to see”. I feel bad for you if you do not understand what a gift it is to get that moment where your loved one cares enough to say “I’m okay, and you will be too.”

If you’re a spiritual person and you believe in the afterlife, I strongly recommend reading “One Last Time” by John Edward. You can walk away from it the way I did 15 years ago, as a completely different person, or you can put it down and never pick it up again, the choice is entirely up to you.

Sometimes we are defined by the things that happen to use and how we cope in the aftermath, and other times we are defined by small moments, like reading a book, and walking away with a completely changed life. It’s the difference between being plugged in to life and plugged in to life and all its many nuances, things you never would have noticed without a tiny push in the right direction.

Being spiritual and believing in the afterlife is different from being religious. You can religious, and not be spiritual, and vice versa. So, if what I’ve said makes you uncomfortable, I simply challenge you to find a copy of this book and read it. After all, what have you got to lose?

Fierce loves knows no boundaries, not even death.

copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

ithinkone

Grief Is

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Grief is like a snowflake? If you want to be poetic about it, okay. If you want to be honest about it, which I am going to be, grief is a demonic fucker that sneaks up on you when you least expect it.

I buried my father seven years ago today. The morning of the funeral I was up until nearly 2:00 a.m. finishing the eulogy. I have no idea how I functioned that day because eight hours later I was heading back home, back to the funeral home where I’ve had to bury almost every key person in my life. I stood up in front of family and friends and brought the house down. The rabbi went up after me, saying “She’s a tough act to follow.” My father’s co-workers came up to me afterward, blown away by what I had written and how I speak in public. A few of them had known him for 40+ years, others nowhere near as long, but they all came, right before Christmas, and paid their respects. I can say a LOT about that because it’s a level of respect that I respect and appreciate. It’s something I will never forget. My father’s own family (all but a few did not live locally), never bothered to show up at the funeral, call, or send so much as a card. I damn near kicked a headstone over this disrespect at the neighboring cemetery where, in four inch heels, I flipped out at my Uncle’s grave and told him he should be ashamed of his family. The tone of voice I was using was enough to probably break bone. If any of them ever need an exact match for tissue or organ donation, I would have to seriously re-think my views on “family” because I don’t tolerate disrespect. There are moments in life when you truly see everyone for who and what they truly are. Sometimes it’s heartening, and other times it makes you murderous.

I’ve been sitting here for the last few hours wondering why I feel so terrible. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. I’ve wondered if I was coming down with a cold, and a plethora of other issues. While it is entirely possible that I have a cold in my system, the truth just hit me: I’m upset and when I realized the date, I changed my plans for the day. I don’t want to have a nervous breakdown in public. I will make sure the two places I need to go are open tomorrow and go then, because it’s not an emergency, but it does need to get done before everything shuts down on Christmas Eve, which I totally understand and respect. I think the only thing that will be open Christmas Day is Walmart (Every year I call them to check, expecting a different answer. Every year they tell me “We never close.”) and the movie theater, and probably a Chinese restaurant or two. I’m cooking, so I want fresh ingredients because I am on some insane mission to get through the rest of this year without going ballistic or tearing someone apart. I’m not certain the latter won’t happen. There is a LOT I can accomplish in eight days.

Today, it’s okay to have a mini-meltdown in the privacy of my own home. It’s okay to be upset and angry, and to feel abandoned.

I thought I’d reached the stage of acceptance. Maybe I have, but that doesn’t mean loss is not upsetting to me. When you lose your parents young, the way you view life is very different than it is if you lose your parents at a more appropriate age, like 90. We all live hoping to make it past retirement age, but the truth is, even though many of us say that a specific age is “too old”, we still want to live into the future. Our desire to survive is still present. A family friend once said “I’m never retiring. I’ll still work when I’m 100, so long as I can do so.” He’s a good person, a hard worker, and I pray he makes it to 100 and can see his grand-daughters grow up, maybe even become a great-Grandfather and be able to enjoy that too.

My father never got to see any of those things. I don’t know that he would have truly been interested to do so, but still, it hurts. I do not hurt solely for myself. I hurt for my brother, who really needs a parental figure in his life right now. My father was everything to him. He is not as strong as I am and I spend a lot of time worrying about him because he & I are so different. It’s hard to believe we’re brother and sister, unless it comes down to our sense of humor, passion for things that are important to us, and small things that brand you as “siblings” to others, even if you don’t look alike.

Losing a family member is never easy. Losing one during the holidays is very hard. Having to re-live it year after year is a choice. I tried working through it, but sometimes it creeps up out of nowhere and slaps me across the face. I remember it happening last year too. I did so well on the anniversary of his death, but today, I just have to let myself cry and grieve. Odd as it sounds, tomorrow will come with an entirely different set of emotions.

As the great Billy Crystal has often said “Grieving is a process.”

copyright © 2014 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Seven Years

Seven years can change everything. 

I walked out of the house the other day and for the first time, I did not have issues about this moment. It’s not about ‘coming to terms’, but maybe it’s about ‘coming to a new place’. Maybe it is a sign that my soul has learned how to handle this from year to year. 

Seven years… It can change how you see the world, how you see yourself, how you see your relationships, and how you see the future.

I have hardened. I have softened. I have strengthened. I have focused on myself, and I have grown. I see how much growth from last year to today.

I have fought battles, and won. I have fought battles that weren’t worth fighting, and walked away unscathed. I have tended wounds, and worked on scars. I have loved and been loved. I have seen beauty, and I have seen the dark underbelly.

I have accomplished things people told me I would never attain on my own. I have risen out of the ashes, as the infinite phoenix of my own destiny. Most importantly, I have stood on my own two feet. No matter where life takes me, I know who I am. I know my worth and value.

In Memory of my father, who knows why these things are all so very important.

…May You Never Be Broken Again.

copyright © 2014 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Portions of this are copyright © 2013 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 

There Is A Place…

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In Memory of my Uncle, who passed away suddenly three years ago. Today would have been his 62nd birthday. If anyone lived life to the fullest and gave with his whole heart, it was him. He was my guide post for so much in my life, and for that I will forever be grateful.

RMP

1952-2011

“Carry on, you will always remember
Carry on, nothing equals the splendor
Surely heaven waits for you…” -Kansas