A Memory Lost in Time

Occasionally out of the blue, a song will come on the radio, or shuffle on your iPod that seemingly catches you off track. It immediately puts a smile on your face, takes you back 15 years in an instant. To a place you knew and still know as one of the happiest times of your life. You close your eyes for a moment, standing face to the sun and let the memory sweep you off your feet, back in time, to that very moment.


I sit here, eyes closed and I can smell sandalwood incense mixed with the rush of ‘Elizabeth Arden’s Red Door’ Perfume. The beat starts slow…. “la la la la, la……” just acoustic Guitar and the soft sweet voice of Cat Stevens breaks in….. “Now that I’ve lost everything to you, you say you want to start something new……….” I hear her voice chime in as she enters from the other room in my minds’ eye I see it as if it were right now, feel the positive happy energy of a home created with love and smiles, happiness and a lot of sweat and tears.



She’s standing in the kitchen, the sunlight bouncing off of her bright blonde hair as if she were coming out of the sun itself. “Ohhh baby baby it’s a wild world” she grabs my hand and twirls me around “it’s hard to get by, just upon a smile”. Her eyes so bright when she looks at me I can’t help but laugh and then twirl her as she did me. As we dance, there in the spring afternoon… the windows open letting in the cool crisp air, it swirls in with the scent of her perfume and incense making a permanent mark in my heart, my mind and most importantly my soul.



“You know I’ve seen a lot of what the world can do”, she sings softly holding her hand across her heart with a look of intensity in her eyes. She always sang this song to me it wasn’t just a song for us, it was her message… through the art of a man so many didn’t understand directly to me, yet I wouldn’t realize that until she was gone…. “and it’s breaking my heart in two, cause I never want to see you sad girl…. Don’t be a bad girl!”…. “If you wanna leave take good care, hope you make a lot of nice friends out there, just remember there’s a lot of bad and beware!.... ooh baby baby it’s a wild world……it’s hard to get by just upon a smile. Oh baby baby it’s a wild world and I’ll always remember you like a child girl (la la la mixed with piano) BABY I LOVE YOU!” (we would sing as loudly as possible)

By this time we are moving around the room like I used to imagine hippies did at Woodstock, eyes closed holding hands, swaying back and forth singing softly to one another dancing in and out of the smoky rays of sun coming through the windows with the bright spring colors following, as if they had joined our soul dance.



“I’ll always remember you, like a child girl……………. “ the song faded away just as softly as it had begun. Opening my eyes, I realize I’m not there, in that house with my mom, but for a minute I was. A small tear forms in the corner of my eye. Wiping it away and breathing in, sitting up straight in my chair, a tear falls involuntarily before I can catch it with my aged fingers, the fingers that are starting to look like hers, but with finger nails. I smile glancing inconspicuously into the reflection of the picture of her and I, checking to be sure my makeup wasn’t smeared where the small drop of emotion had escaped. It’s all good. I got to be 15 again, even if just for a moment, even if just in a day dream, a memory, She was here with me, memory or not I can still smell her and I can’t help but smile. I hear her in my voice sometimes, I see her reflection as I walk past a mirror. I try to avoid it mostly, it’s the only thing that makes the day bearable sometimes … just knowing that a huge part of me is just like her, it makes it easy not to miss her as much.



There is a little brown eyed girl sitting in school right now, she has her daddy’s eyes and nose, but her mommy’s smile and the same spark that runs in the eye of every woman in our family. It’s a fire. It burns deep, it’s strong. It’s what gets us through the tough days and lights us up on the great ones. It’s the god within us, there passed down from generation to generation to remind us when we do catch that glimpse, that spark, that fire………. To hold our head up, smile and keep on dancing!

Memoirs- Jeanette Eisele - Part 2.

As I glanced back at her lifless body, one last time I saw my dad crying as he leaned to her cheek. I pushed through the wooden swinging doors and burst into the most painful deep sobbing i'd ever experianced. Even the large farmers arms of the cornor were somewhat helpful as he tried to console me. At least he kept me from falling, as any strength i had as of now was gone, along with her soul.

I walked slowly out of the odd smelling funeral home, and down the concrete path to the little blue VW Beetle we had bought my mom after the tornado destroyed her Sentra (it was so old and oxidized, we never understood her emotional connection to it) and at the time, I had a yellow VW Beetle and she always liked mine, so we got her one. It was now my dads to drive... a six foot 6 tall bald man... it WAS pretty funny.... at least it was somethign to smile about. I sat in the car, with the door open, staring into the sun waiting for something to happen to wake me up from this horrible dream and she'd be standing there laughing like some sick April Fools Day joke "ha ha gotcha"... but it didn't. I heard the door slam and it was my dad. His head was down, eyes gazed into the steps he was taking and the cracks on the concrete before his giant feet. He opened the car door and sat down slowly.

"We need to go and talk to Sharon" he said, without any emotion at all. So off to the house we headed. The drive up the way was longer than it had ever been. The gravel crunched under the tires and the once beautiful house, now torn apart from the tornado that hit only months prior was there, unfolding as if in some horror movie.

She was standing next to her squad car, arms crossed, puffy eyes yet no tears. Sharon was always a good friend of our family, she was a lesbian so of course people around town had to treat her like crap because that's what back woods idiots do to people who are a little different or things they dont understand. I began to walk into the house, I had to get 'bobby'- my mom's favorite bird. Sharon stopped me quickly telling me... i didn't want to see it. I assured her, I did. She walked with me to the living room, where my mom had laid the padding from a lawn chair over a sofa to keep any blood from ruining the sofa (because you had to know her, god forbid she leave a mess for us... ina house that was already torn up by a tornado)

"No Blood?" I asked with the most amazed look on my face. "no, not one drop my dear' Sharon replied with her solid arm around me. I asked her to explain to me how she was laying and she did. On the west end was her head, at her feet a picture of Jesus Christ, which explained why she was smiling when i saw her for the last time. On the floor were two bowls of water. One with dish soap, one with clean water. Again with the mess thing. After we took Bobby out of the house I asked to be alone in the room. Adam was there, and that was fine. I sat down quietly on the sofa I wanted to feel what she felt see what she saw- I knew she kept her 'stash' of green material somewhere close and the last thing i wanted was the sheriff to find it upon their secondary search- she didn't need to be rumored a pot smoker on top of a suicidal. I looked around, asked aloud 'if i were here, where would i have hidden it'.... i reached up under the botton of a side table, pushed the drawer backwards and it landed in my hand. I began to cry.

Adam was standing to my right, beside the couch and reached for my shoulder in condolence. About that time i heard something solid hit the ground and roll. The look on his face was of shock, and he was somewhat pale in the face. "what was that" i asked. "Uh" he stammered "i'm not sure you need to know Bambi" In my head, i kept asking - WHY does everyoen assume i dont need to know, ASSUME i shouldn't see, ASSUME i shouldn't be told- I stood up quickly to discover why he didn't want me to see it.

There on the floor, about two feet from my foot was the slug that the cops were unable to find during the original walk through of the scene. It was a small one, i picked it up and with horror on my face realized the white piece of substance on the end of it wasn't part of the bullet, but part of my mom's bone. I quickly placed it in a plastic bag, and put it in my pocket. Not long after that, I realized i hadn't even asked for a note. I stepped outside to ask Sharon and she had told me the Sheriff had taken it, along with the weapon for further examination and it would be weeks before they would get it back to us.

Here i stand, silently hiding the bullet they thought was in the sofa because it was a through and through shot to her chest, yet no sign of it entering the fabric of the place she was laying. Apparently in the 'law' world, this was odd. It was also said the weapon was set to automatic rounds- but jammed on one shot.

To be Continued...............

Memoirs- Jeanette Eisele Part 1.

It was July 16th of 2003. It had been a full year at least of non stop phone calls to her, daily… typically more than once sometimes more than five depending on the change between them. It was normal to call her in the morning, see how she felt and get my ass chewed out from something I’d done when I was five, like biting the blinds leaving teeth prints while I watched my parents out in the yard, of course she was back in that moment, so you can imagine how hard it was for me to not laugh at her being that I was at the time 22 and she was STILL yelling at me for doing that, then saying ‘I didn’t’ do it’ (I was an only child people… lets say I wasn’t bright enough to blame the dog) I remember waking up this day, calling her. The first of the calls were pleasant, she talked of the humming birds fighting over feeders or mates or whatever would cause then to fly at one another shit and fly the other direction. We would giggle about this almost daily. The first conversation was good, I thought this would be a wonderful day for us. An hour later I got another call from her angry with me, because she’d not heard from me yet today, ranting about insurance claims and the tornado then switching to something totally off the wall. My stomach would sink and I could hear it in her voice that there wasn’t much time left, but I didn’t care to face it. I was 22. Nothing can hurt you at 22. The calls went on all day- good then bad, then finally the last one it hit her you could tell, she realized after I angrily said to her ‘mom, for gods sake I’m working and I’ll come see you after work, we’ve had this same FUCKING conversation all damn day’…. she hung up on me. I sat, staring at the clock in my office. It was after 4 and I got off work by five. I immediately felt horrible and tried to call back but no answer.

She had gotten an MRI a few months prior to her losing her memory sparatically, they saw dark spots on the base of her skull – meaning the cancer had spread. The slightest hint of chemo therapy or radiation or even the acknowledgement that she was dying or losing her mind was out of the question for her. So we went along with it, papa and i. we just pretended right along side her that nothing was wrong.

When I got off work, I went to my house that I had been living in with Jaida’s dad (this was before Jaida of course, we lived in sin… ya ya) I was preparing dinner, of course to take some to my parents when I heard a knock at the door. It was her, holding wind chimes in each hand. I welcomed her in, gave her a hug. She was in a surprisingly chipper mood. She had been at Modern Variety and found these chimes. She wanted me to pick the one I most liked. It was hard, one were rainbow colored sunshines with huge smiles and the other soft pink butterflies. I wanted them both, but I took the sunshines, knowing that she secretly wanted the butterflies, since I always reminded her of one. We sat and chatted for a while, she showed me some sillies she had gotten and shared some white chocolate with me (the real kind, the kind they chip away and put in a paper bag for you… the kind that makes you sick when you eat more than a few pieces). Like always though, the conversation slipped… somewhere in the midst we began arguing about something and I told her in the meanest voice I could muster “I have had enough! FUCK MOM- you go off like this ten seconds later you’re back to fucking normal!!! Seriously how do you NOT see what you are doing?” She stopped, her face turned blank and she headed towards the door. She smiled at me as she began walking out, still holding the butterfly wind chimes and said ‘you wont have to worry that much longer bambi, I love you’ to which I replied ‘I love you too mom’ and the door shut quietly.

I watched her get in the van, sit for a moment realizing what was realling going on, it had to be hard to realize you were losing your mind and had no clue. I stood in the picture like any snotty 22 year old ass hole would do and just watched her without telling her I was sorry. My god, she was tiny, she weighed 80 pounds last I knew, she was a walking skeleton.

The night drew to a close like any other, Adam and I watching tv. Ignoring all possible reality in the outside world, eating whatever it was I had cooked, snuggling with Paxton and just hanging out.

July 17, 2003

I woke up the next morning with the same chip on my shoulder. I remember thinking to myself how horrible I was, but at the same time how I wasn’t going to let her ruin my day today. I wasn’t going to call! I headed off to work – regular office chatter- blah blah blah and it was lunch time. I went home to have lunch with Adam and our Friend Chase. At the time the two were mowing yards together so it was a nice break for me to smell stinky working men while eating a lunch meat sandwhich. I remember heading back to work around 1:00 and that is when the day grew cold.

I still hadn’t called, I kept thinking of what I had told a co worker just weeks before this whole thing ‘I wished god would heal her or take her away because I cannot handle this much longer’- sinking in my head and my stomach I felt the guilt and realized it was nearly 2 and I’d not even gotten a call from her yet. About that time my phone rings.

“Bambi, this is XXX from security, we need you to come over to the security building right away please”. Immediately I thought I was getting fired, again with the selfishness of a 22 year old until I rounded the corner to the building and saw the Pierce City Police car. I heard every step I took, every breath in and out, I could feel the sun beating down on me almost in a straight burn. It was bright, in my eyes and I could feel my heart racing I had a hunch, intuition you might call it, but it was confirmed when I peered through the window to see my dads hat he wore every day- I knew it was him b/c he always wore his infantry pin on it from the army.

I opened the door to see two of our company security officers that I’d gotten to know very well by speeding past them in the parking lot while they shake their fingers at me and I’d honk every time as if to say nah nah nah – against the far wall was the cross eyed cop from Pierce City who was once our janitor turned police chief over night (yeah, I’m serious here, go a head and laugh… we all do!) and then he stood up……….. my dad…. His tall thin stature normally so strong and protective was green in the face – red in the eyes and shaking like he’d seen a ghost.

“She did it Bambi” he said to me with an obvious pain and lump in his throat. “NO…. where is she, is she ok… no she didn’t!!!!” he repeated that yes in fact she had- and I hit the cold tile of the floor knees first. He picked me up, I hit him in the chest as if it were somehow going to make me feel better or wake me up from the horrible nightmare I was in and behind him, as he held me so tight to his chest I saw the PC officer look to the ground when the words “Where is she now, can we go see her” came from my mouth. The room cleared quickly. The security guards that once jokes with me turned and walked away, the officer stood steady with no expression and no eye contact.

“Shes gone sweety, she’s at Lakin Funeral Home”

The last words I remember then were saying NO and crying, feeling sick and running out the front door of the building that seems to be closing in on me and throwing up violently next to the tire of my dads car. I sat down in the summer heat suddenly emotionless, no tears, they had stopped…….my ribs hurt from the emotional thrust of sickness that had just came from inside my soul.

It wasn’t long before papa joined me and sat on the curb. Everyone cleared out it seemed and it was just us. I knew what I had to do. But I wasn’t ready. Two weeks ago she reminded me very clearly “When it’s my time, I don’t want a big funeral so all the fake people can come stare at my lifeless shell and pretend they cared, I want you to cremate me, don’t you dare let them cut me open I want to see God in one piece unscathed from a coroners hand, and I want you to scatter me to the four corners” This obviously was a conversation we all knew was coming, she had to smoke pot to eat- even a few bites then sometimes it would hurt so bad she threw it back up anyways.

My dad put his hand on my shoulder and told me to go get my things, that I had a job to do as I was in charge of everything in her passing. Nobody but Me was to make any final decisions in her well being for the afterlife. I stumbled across the black pavement into the building where I worked. My boss was gone, I was weak and I will never forget the first person I told. Her name was Brandy Beshears- I saw her in the kitchen and she asked me what was wrong. Make up down my face, I asked where Kurt (my boss) was. In the next second would be the first time, to what was at that time almost a total stranger that “I have to leave, my mom killed herself”.

I excused myself from the already growing curious crowd of people who had apparently seen me fall outside the building and get sick, so you can imagine how quickly news spread the moment the large oak doors closed behind me. All I could hear in my head was what I had said only a few days or weeks before “I wish god would just heal her or take her…. “ over and over again. The next stop was to tell Adam. I knew where they were working, and papa drove me silently to the doctors yard. I stepped out of the car and as if he felt the pain rush over him as well he heard my tears over the hum of the lawn mower. He shut it off, jaw dropped in awe and I again lost all strength in my knees. I don’t remember what I told him- I just remember opening my eyes and I was at the funeral home.

The smell is horrible in any funeral home, it’s deathly quiet and the carpet is always some horrible pink color with the most hideous flower wall paper to hide the once panneld walls. Mr. Lakin asked me to sit at one end of the table, I chose the other in defiance. Papa at my side, holding my hand Mr. Lakin began. All of the paper work had to be filled out by me. Autopsy? NO – I mean after all my moms’ friend Sharon Black- also a PC cop was at the back door of the house when she did it… what was the point, we all knew the truth behind the suicide…. At least the ones she allowed to know. I looked past his huge shoulders into the crack between the swinging doors and I could see her. His words became a dull sound that I could no longer make out as I focused on the space between the doors. I could see her beautiful long blonde hair and the tip of her nose…. I could see the red spot on her forehead that she had gotten in a motorcycle accident from when she was 16. After I filled out all the information, signed for no funeral, wrote a check for the amount of the cremation and made plans to come back to pick her up I was handed an envelope. Her blongings, what she was wearing when she was picked up. Amnithest necklace, tarnished from wear – a tiny emerald earing she wore on just one side in the only second hole she was brave enough to pierce and a tube of her favorite chapstick… Chap-Et- the blue kind that smells like medicine.

After a bear hug and a slight tear, Mr. Lakin went to escort us out. “no, I want to say goodbye to her sir” to which he replied very stern “Honey, I don’t think you want this to be the last memory you have of your mom”…. But it was……….. because I’d buried so many friends already through high school, car wrecks, suicides, illnesses that I was not leaving until I said goodbye to my mother, my best friend.

I didn’t wait for his answer, I simply pushed past him into the morgue, and there she was. Lifeless in a black body bag unzipped down just above her chest. Her golden hair even more light against the dark plastic bag and her snow white skin so milky and for once healthy looking. The blood hadn’t been flowing through her veins for hours but she was still beautiful. Her eyes were open, eyes like no other. Blue as the most beautiful sky with a glorious and powerful soul to match hiding just behind them. she had a smile on her face- a faint smile, it made me smile. She was no longer in pain………..she didn’t even bleed- not one drop. Sharon and I think she was dead before the bullet entered her chest. I brushed my fingers through her hair one last time, closed each eye with my own finger to be sure she couldn’t see the pain in my face just incase part of her was still there, lingering to make sure I did my job right. I leaned forward, a tear from my face falling to hers and kissed her lifeless cheek. It wasn’t totally hard yet, just cool to the touch… lifeless and solid.

To be continued…………

Dark Days of Summer: Part 2

After speaking to my dad yesterday i realized............ it's been six years since she died. Apparently i've been stuck in this cave longer than I thought because somehow, I lost an entire year. I CAN do math, i promise, maybe it's because i dont remember the entire first year after the loss. In any case, imagine my surprise and the pain when I ran into that brick wall yesterday.

Continued............
After hearing her read her note, over and over again in my head the cold earth beneth me began to grow colder and wetter. Her voice was finally gone and all i could hear were the drops again, the tear drops falling to the wet ground beneith me. I felt something suddenly in the palm of my hand, it was small and hard, mis shapen and cold, just like everything else around me. I tried with all my mite to see this thing, but couldn't make out what it was or how it got into my hand. It wasn't a rock, it appeared to be metal, solid metal. In my other hand appeared another metal piece, it was easier to make out. It was longer, hollow in the middle, cold metal with a ridge at the end of it. REalizing with a sickness in my stomach, exactly what it was- a shell casing, oddly the piece in my other hand fit in it perfectly. It was the slug, the one that took her life.

I sat there in the dark, now freezing and scared. no longer crying but starting to understand my surroundings. I realized she had given them to me. The bullet, and the casing, and the note... though hard to read, and rarly remembered were all here for a reason. No longer had the last tear dried from my face than i started to feel a warm breeze, a sweet smell of honey suckle and a flicker of light. I slowly stand up, weak from the emotional drain of the experiance and suffering. HOlding myself against the wet cool wall of the cave I wonder towards the light in awe, still clutching the metal pieces in each hand. As I grow closer and closer, the breeze warms my cold fridged skin and the smell becomes more and more inviting. I can see the blue of the sky now, and I know that i'm almost out of the cave until i come to realize that I must climb to get out. The sky is above me, the sun barley able to reach my pale cold skin. Looking now at the two pieces i've cluched in my hands i realize I have to leave them behind in order to climb out. I know she gave them to me for a reason, as a reminder - but holding onto them will only keep me here, in this cold dark place where I dont belong even longer and i know where she wants me to be. I kiss the cold metal pieces and place them on the ground, around it I draw a heart and like magic they dissapear into the ground, the heart begins to light up, showing me roots on the climb up that i'm able to grasp as i climb. REaching for the first one I could feel a sort of magic around me, helping me find more and more places to grasp, more and more energy I'd not had in me moments before in order to get me to the top. Mud and rocks falling in my face and my hands bleeding from the pain of the climb I continue this for what seems like hours. My fingernails hurt, but the closer i get to the top, the stronger i feel and the better the sun feels on my skin. I rise out of the opening, and standing there is my daughter, surrounded by every friend i've ever had in my life. All of the people who i love and love me so dearly- even ones i've not met face to face. Each of these people have pushed me, pulled me or given me pep talks along the way to help me climb out of this hole and continue with the life i was meant to lead. each of them smiling- each of them giving me strength to continue and every second I realize they were sent to me by her.... even before she died. The entire clearning is surrounded by people, honey suckles and sun.

It's like heaven.... to me... I pick up my daughter, her grasp tight around my neck as she tells me 'I love you mommy, i can't wait to be a mommy just like you'. Life is good, the climb has been painful and what i'm leaving behind is and always will be with me, but nothing compared to the beauty that surrounds me in this lifetime!

Thank you- all of you, for your encouraging words, your laughter on rainy days, your jokes when i need a smile, your hug when the crying hurts so badly that i can't breath, the words of wisdom because you've been there, the empathy because you've not, the kindness you've shared, the pain you have healed and the time you have spent in my life.

Peace and Love to you all- ALL of you! I am lucky to have each of you in my life.


Tomorrows post will be a full account of her death. The day she died, the day before she died, the last words we spoke and a full account of my memory. It will be in tragic detail and I ask that if you do not want to know what i saw, felt and delt with taht you simply skip it. It is, however something i have to put on paper before i continue my book, and for you to fully understand ME as a person and how far i've come since her death. Much love to you all. Bambi

Dark Days Of Summer

I’m not going to pretend anymore this week. I don’t have anything uplifting to say to you that will make the world feel like an easier place to love, or an explaination of why I think things happen because frankly I have no idea.
I don’t like to dwell on the past, it just seems there are a few dates in the matter of a year that sneak up on me, and once they get close I can feel them breathing down my neck with a ridgid force of darkness. There isn’t much I can do really, not to avoid this date.

Five years it will be, July 17, 2003 at 1:10pm when my mom took her life, to ‘save’ us from watching her die in the hospital. I’ve grown a lot in five years. Learned a lot about humanity in general, learned to love myself for who I am and not what I see others think of me, or tell me I am. I’ve raised a child as a single mother and watched her single father do the same from a distance. She’s the light at the end of the dark hallway when it feels like you can’t run fast enough to get away from whatever it is that follows you, once you reach her, she takes it all away and causes nothing but peace.

Jaida will be with her dad for the next several days, taking my light, leaving me here alone in this cave of darkness wondering around clueless trying to figure out when, just WHEN this emotion will stop and go away or at least subside!
I cut all my hair off the other day. I feel like a pixie and I like it. I see the reaction in others eyes, the lie when they say it’s ok, or they think it’s cute. It makes me smile inside because just then, as the glimmer of a lie flickers from their eyes and glances another direction I feel her hand on my shoulder laughing with me, telling me that I am still me, no matter what I do to my hair (of course she would have hated it to be honest… “what about your long soft angelic hair” she’d say) to which has been gone so long now I hardly remember or care what I looked like with such beautiful locks.
 

I keep taking pictures, trying to prove that what I see in the mirror isn’t really as dark as it is when I see it. So I snap – I look, waiting for the right picture to show you guys that shows my hair how I love it so much right now. Nothing, the dark is still here……… hovering in my eyes, tears balled up behind them and a clinch in my throat seemingly permanent. Anyways, here is my hair cut.


I can’t help but look so hard, trying to find the light I know is there, the light I’ve worked on for so many years to know that it is myself I love, and all else follows but it’s not there today, it hasn’t been there but will return in a matter of a week.
I know some of my readers have lost a parent. One of you (cp) seem to have the same painful anniversaries as I do with our moms, and Suzy and her dad- she just has a funnier way of speaking of him. She is after all a comedian though, she gets paid for that shit.  right Suzy?? 

So here it is, what it feels like to me – when the anniversary of the day she died approaches:
I’m standing in a dark place, unable to see anything around me, unaware of where I really am or if this is only a dream. I bend down slowly to feel the hard cold earth beneath my feet. I begin to crawl with my hands outstretched in every direction, reaching for something… anything to grasp that will tell me where I am, show me that I’m ok and in a familiar place. I hear echos in the distance, drops of water? The whistling of the wind? I still look so hard and see nothing but pitch black. Finally my finger tips pass something, drawing my entire body in that direction. I put both hands out to feel the object in front of me, it is but a wall, wet, cold muddy wall, the same as the ground I had just lifted myself from. I begin to follow the wall, as if a blind person would with no guidance but their hands. I realize where I am now. it’s a cave. The deepest, darkest, coldest cave I have ever experienced. I begin to cry, feeling lost and totally alone. I don’t know which direction to go, because I simply cannot see anything. I don’t know what to feel except utter panic and my breath begins to shorten and my chest grows tight until my legs get weak and I sit down to collect my thoughts.

I’ve lost something, I don’t know where I am, what I’m doing and I don’t have the energy to go any further from here. Then I hear voices. Not just echos of water dropping to the muddy earth but to my left I hear voices. I sit quietly trying to understand what they are saying, I begin to crawl slowly in the direction of the sounds with one arm in front of me, to keep me from hitting anymore walls. I can hear the voices getting closer, yet I still cannot see. I am beginning to make out what they are saying, it is not many voices, just one……… one every familiar voice. I realized suddenly where I am. Who that was. What she was saying and it made no sense. “please take care of the animals” she muttered.
I sat back against the cold wet wall of the cave and held my head between my legs, tears streaming from my face. I knew where I was…. Again, every year I hear the same thing….. and so I sit, crying, listening to her read the note she left me
“Please take care of the animals. Bambi, I’m so sorry for this pain- but baby were not the nuts, just care takers! Suckers with lots of pitty for the pitiful. You stay strong girl! (detail left out for personal reasons) It is time for me to go, be free. PS- Do not kill yourself for others hurting your heart so bad”
The last words she whispers to me as the voice begins to fade away again ‘The value of time…. How true’
My breath falls to short quick pants and my eyes grow heavy, the tears falling now so fast they have literally become a stream and I realize the drops I’d been hearing were not water falling from the cave walls at all, but my own tears in echo that even I never saw coming. The day is here again, and in this cave I will stay. Feel safe, cry where nobody can see me, write when nobody can bother me, yell because sometimes it’s frustrating to have your only mother and best friend gone for the rest of your life, only visiting you in a silent dream when she feels it necessary. I lay down in on the hard cold earth, still unable to see anything and settle into the darkness that has taken over my eyes. I close them softly as my tears carress me to sleep…….
To Be Continued….

Today is your Birthday

Good Morning Mom! I overslept today, knowing what today was, knowing at some point I had to get out of bed, but I couldn't 'un' snuggle myself from my little girl. Today would have been your 52nd Birthday, or I mean it IS your 52nd Birthday. I can't help but lay silently looking at my daughter knowing NOW why you always stared at me the way you did. It truly is the most amazing thing on earth to feel the love you can have for your child. It is not comparable to any other force of love on this earth, and shouldn't be. Jaida is a good kid. She's a LOT like I was when i was a child. Being that she too is an only child, our one on one time is so similar to yours and mine. We made a cake the other day, like we always do...... she held the beaters while i turned the bowl. I couldn't help but giggle because it took you years to let me use those beaters by myself, and despite the 'raw egg scare' we always shared the batter while the cake was baking. you took one beater, i took the other and we both finished the bowl.

At lunch I plan to listen to your song, at least the one you played for me every year on my birthday. I mean what day between us would be complete without the Beatles 'Todays Your Birthday'. You started that tradition when I was born, it wasn't until my second birthday that I remember it, and It came like clockwork every morning on my birthday until the day you died.

today will be a good day-no doubt. I am so thankful for everything and everyone in my life that I am nearly beside myself when i stop to think about how great my life really is, but then your face comes to mind. I wish you were here, physically. Losing my mother at 23 was difficult, yes, the most difficult thing i've ever experienced. There have been so many things the past (almost) five years since you passed that i've wanted to ask you, or things I wanted to share with you, tears I needed to cry and you were the ONLY one who would understand without judgement. In the past five years of my life, i've grown into a totally different person. I worked really hard at it. When I lost you, I lost a huge piece of me, but the trials of your death made me a strong person. The accusations that you didn't really kill yourself.... (still make me laugh, and i know they do you too) People saying to me "I'm sorry your mom is in hell" (moving me farther from a total Christian religion) I still keep the picture of Jesus that you had at your feet, I dont look at it, but i have it. I wonder sometimes if you would have been proud of where I am religiously. I have so much to learn ,but Buddhism is my fit. I believe in all it stands for, Love, Kindness, Forgiveness, Peace. Every time I open a new book about the percepts my soul grows and I find myself so much happier in life. I wish you were here to share it with.

This spring was a great one, is I should say. You would love my new house. It IS the epitome of you and I and our love of nature. I have a deck from all three levels. It's not a mansion, more like a little Bambi bird house on top of the mountain. I have quite the portfolio of photos put together. I plan to get a copy right on them soon and put up my own web site. Then maybe set up booths during Blues Fest, Art Fest etc downtown to make some extra money. Thank you for my 'eye' by the way, i find the other I am getting the more beauty in angles and things that most people can't see, stand out to me and become a beautiful picture!

I have Hummingbirds here. NOTHING like the hords of them you used to have, but I have two feeders and frequent visitors, it's rather calming and I can see now, why your last year you spent so much time sitting among them watching.

I miss you Mom. I miss back roading on days like today... windows down with Jackson Brown or Jim Croche playing softly in the back ground. Better yet, days like today when we would saddle up the boys fill the saddle bags with water, snacks and TP and head out on the road for hours at a time. We would have a pit stop every few miles, mainly because you and Dakota (Mr. Foxtrotter) had to leave me and Stormy behind constantly, but i never cared. Watching you ride was an inspiration to me. I've only ridden a handful of times since you left. It isn't the same, the boys look at me like i'm a stranger, and I dont feel your spirit when i ride anymore, it just feels like another part of me that died with you.

I haven't camped yet this year. I can't seem to find the energy or the time. Things have been busy and yet still wonderful. I just wish you were here to see my life, where I am, and give me that one little speech you always gave "Bambi, baby.. you're such a beautiful girl. You are a hard worker and someday that will pay off. You can have everything your heart desires if you put your strong willed mind to it" and i have.......... so far. A few more finishing touches on some books, the right person to help me with my website for my photography and i'll be exactly where you told me i could.

I thought today could go by with no tears. I was wrong. I miss you more than words can even say. I see you in my eyes sometimes, your spirit, your will and your strength. I often wonder how you held your strength in some of the moments you did. I dont think i'm as strong as you. You taught me what it's like to have an honest, loving mother. Someone I could confide in no matter what, even if I knew i would get in trouble afterwards, it was better to be upfront. I'm trying to raise my daughter as you have me, i'm trying to be first her mother, and guide her and teach her, but also kind enough to be her friend when she needs it. I think it is important in life to have your mother as your best friend. You were, you always will be. I have a few people that have filled small voids you left behind, you know the girls i'm speaking of- i have no doubt you've watched over us many occasion.

So Happy Birthday MOM- Cinco De Mayo- Your own personal holiday (that you share with so many other warriors who also, won the battle they fought on this day) thank you for all you've done for me, who I am and who i am becoming. Thank you most of all for the strong willed spirit, and being the most influential person in my life. I love you with all i have, all my heart, and I miss you so much my heart aches and tears flow without a muscle in my face moving to cause the tears. Thank you-

PS- It would be nice if you would come see me, in my dreams. Apparently you visit my friends... and latley you've shown up to tell me to come with you and you keep reaching for my hand, but i wake up before i can catch you. If you're going to show up... for gods sake say something this time- meaningful... like "Since when did you get into shoes Bambi" or "I love you too kid"... but i guess i can only ask so much of the afterlife, for all i know you're already moved on to be someones kid in this life, a brat at that! ":) I love you Mom. I can't say it enough. I hope your celebration is filled with all of those who beat you to it, those who have joined you since and more smiles and hugs than your tiny body can stand. Here's to you and your freedom:

My Mom's Harley Davidson Panhead- beautiful blue, like the color of her eyes.....the bandanna you see... i still wear, she never wore anything but Levi 501 and she looked damn good. My mom stopped ridding the bike after I was born. She sold it, for less than it was worth from what I understand. It was a show bike, it won awards. I have pictures of me with my raggedy Ann Doll standing in front of it on the show room. I'm sure Rusty, the bio dad would have some comment to debunk it all at this point and make me feel even more shitty about my mom. Seems every time he comes around me he says something horrible and mean only pushing me farther from ever wanting to see his face again. I wish he would only listen when i tell him, she never ONCE said a cross word about my father to me, no matter how absent he was in my life she stood up for you! She made excuses as to WHY you didn't know how to 'love me' or WHY you never called. In any case.... She was a beautiful woman, mother, friend, daughter, wife (to a good man- my papa) biker and most of all............ free spirit!