02-26-03 6:25 a.m.

 

Chopra: Every time you come into contact with another person, you have the choice whether to share yourself truthfully.

 

Whoa. No chit mon.

Smile. Bekah-la, you know where I am? Better than me? With choices in front of me I know that what I want to do more than anything is that which is right.

 

But the resistance to that which is practical and necessary [they must also be right, right?] continues to lay me low and lazy.

 

Basically the result is profuse thanks to every angel still walking this planet. Because as you must know without those angels Rory and I would be somewhere off the face of the earth.

 

I feel better physically than I have in so fucking long. Pray to maintain. I visualize the light of protection, take my lessons, feel the ferment grow within me and resolution as well.

 

I deplore the analogies to the time of my life when I was almost totally disenfranchised and missing you and Andy daily too. Now he is in Illinois, you are dead, and I still in spite of myself wonder why I went through all that only to be confronted with the murder of a child?

 

I think back to the exhilaration of recognizing that Yes, I would make it back! The building of confidence and the validation of that confidence.

 

These days sweetheart so, SO much harder. And I’m tired too much, and fall into self-pity. Bitterness? Hmm. Certainly at times. That war goes on. I just cannot, sometimes, ignore how sagacious bitter appears, or pick on myself though I may deserve it…yes baby we got lots we did not deserve. But the best answer to that I‘ve yet to devise is why not me? My history is what it is, and hardship and tragedy are documented, it’s true. In this society it is never hard to find others who have had it easier, whose happiness came naturally, whose love was never wasted or at least not so many times….

 

Whose children are still alive.

 

But it's beside the point in reality. In group it is easy to find people who have sustained even greater tragedies and I see they go on, they work, they live.

 

Some of them live. My heroes – Carla, Paulette, LaWanda, so many others. Why not me?

 

So my analogy is that self-pity is a mud puddle I slip in from time to time. Ain’t no way I’m gonna stay there. And bitterness is the mother of hatred – oh she’s powerful and she is smart, but Ain’t No Way she’s gonna be me.

 

If there be any reason at all whatsoever it has got to be so that I can apply what I have learned, no? You think? :) You know what I think, but again it’s beside the point.

 

I have shrunk in pain and cowered in denial but I have not UNlearned my life’s lessons, not even those I took before your death. So I will UNshrink, commence to grow, nurture vitality and wisdom. Keep seeking that, and to live and do the right thing. On all fronts, not just the real and practical, but the vital and spiritual, mental, and so on. If your presence can always be more vital to me than your absence. If – what’s this if shit huh? The alternative is simply not acceptable.

 

I gotta be philosophical, I gotta know my own truth too. Am I over losing you? No. How could I be? Will I be? I think I will be, I believe in my own will to insist on that future that includes puddles of happiness and mothers of love, satisfaction, accomplishment, fair outcomes, and plenty.

 

I don’t know when. But I do know that every affirmation is a little closer. Every true action – every action directed to that sought-after state – makes it that much more realistic.

 

I’m sorry I was in the puddle for so long baby – but then, I guess it was more like a lake. And I guess grief is crazy, not me? I know the world – the powers that be – they are crazy, not me.

 

I’ve aspirations and I’ve dreams Bekah. I’ve a grief that is just about the same size and strength as me. I’ve the ego deficiencies planted in me from childhood too. I still breathe. amen

 

Bekah I love you, I miss you, ALWAYS

XXXOOO

 

Mom