Home will be no more...

I posted here about the death of my great-grandmother.

From what I know, she passed away peacefully.

I know that she has joined my grandmother, great grandfather and my uncle who left this world before her. I know that she is renewed and dancing in the streets of heaven. Or sitting on some cloud knitting as that would more suit her. But these are things for another post.

Today, I’m stuck in my own mind. Nothing seems to be pulling me from this. There is pressure and force all around me. My limbs grow weaker as the moments inch forward.

The weight that bears down on me is sometimes unbearable.

I seek not sympathy because I have chosen this path.

I ask not for understanding because that would mean you, too, must endure this pain.

I would not receive your pity because my GOD is stronger than this world.

When I made the decision to come to South Africa….I was young both literally and figuratively. Although I had lived both on my own and with others and had supported myself in many ways, I could not comprehend in my youth the extremity of my decision.

I could not even begin to grasp how far I actually would be from my family. The concept that I couldn’t get back when I wanted to, let alone when needed, never crossed my mind.

The realization that I would be severing a life once lived to the fullest would only come months down the road.

To me…money did not relate and social media filled all gaps.

But a like on Facebook cannot replace a hug. A retweet on Twitter cannot replace the warmth of a smile. And a LoL on text cannot replace the sound of a loved ones laugh.

Skype, no matter how fulfilling, cannot replace the hand reached out to your knee during a deep conversation. It cannot make up for the coffees missed with your mom or the lunch dates with your dad.

None of this, nothing, can make you truly feel connected to these people. Not when you’re talking years without in person connection.

This is how it feels….

I imagine I’m standing in the middle of the ocean. All around me there is just water. Not even the fish swim near me.

I’m facing South Africa, looking over my shoulder towards America.

Neither can I see…but I know they’re there.

There are these gold ropes attached to me from within. They are as much a part of me as my own arms and legs. There is a rope for every human/personal connection I’ve made in both countries.

There is a rope for my father and mother. Step and half siblings. Aunts and uncles. Friends. These ropes are thicker and thinner and stronger and weaker based on the depth of the relationship I had with these people. The thicker and stronger the rope….the larger the pull.

In South Africa, the ropes signify my family and children here. My friends and my church. My job and my activities.

The moment I boarded the plane many fine ropes broke away from my back. The connection to my current job ended. The extent of my relationship with my current church was severed. Friends who were more like acquaintances dropped instantly as their pull was not a blink compared to Hubby’s.

As I flew across the oceans, the rope from my front, Hubby’s rope grew broader and stronger. Each hour that passed made my connection and my dependency on him deeper. He was the only thing pulling me from the world I’d known.

The moment I landed in South Africa, new ropes started forming. I immediately formed a connection with Amanzimtoti. It was my first ‘home’ in South Africa. It gave me my first experience of the beach, which quickly grew it’s own rope as a place of tranquility and relaxation.

Hubby’s family and close friends popped out ropes like the jack popping out of the box. I was creating connections that would hold me here forever. Ropes that could not be broken by mere distance.

The same as some ropes back home.

A tug of war game was brewing within me. It expelled out of me at times of weakness. It’s waged its war, affecting all who are connected.

Time severed many ropes. Connections to memories of places now fell way to new connections. The ropes wear thin in the weather of life’s storms. An old connection to my high school cannot hold strength to my current work. The memories remain but the pull of that ‘home’ no longer exist.

But ropes left to suffer the extremes of the weather….they need care.

Connections need supplement.

So as time progresses, conversations are lost…the ropes pulling me home wane.

Connections to old friends grow weak as I nurture the relations I have here. The ropes of my Hubby and children are the strongest there is. Eventually, ropes of friends here become broad and heavy as my effort goes towards those ‘real’ relationships. It is not that I do not love or miss others….but I must continue to live my life here.

The ropes eventually break when you look back and realize you’ve not spoken in years.

But the worst cut. The one that ends it forever. Death.

Each time a rope is cut….the pull to South Africa grows stronger. I become more rooted where I am.

My life froze in my mind when I left America but those I left behind…their lives continued growing and moving forward.

Each death….each cruel realization that I will never see that person again leaves the remaining ropes working harder. They tire more quickly. Their weight is heavier.

One day….one day the ropes pulling me home will be no more. 

She's gone....

I got a message from my family yesterday….on Facebook of course.

My great-grandmother, Big Grandma, as I called her growing up has passed away. She was 101 years old.

To this…I wrote…

Each time it seems that I’m the one slipping further away. Relationships are not what they used to be and weeks, months pass without an exchange of words. We’re all just shadows of a previous time in each others lives. Regret is not the word but realization that I do not exist in two places. Soon there will be no one left for me to return to and my opportunity to visit will have passed us by. Maybe it makes it easier to cope…not talking that is or maybe its just so simple to let someone fade into the background. I still love my family very much and wish I was with you all today. Love is a cruel mistress these days.

RIP Big Grandma. You were the strongest woman I’ve ever known and I know you’re happy and blessed today. I love you.

…..to that I’m done today.

Shana..

What am I supposed to do now....

This is an extremely hard post for me to write.
I had something else planned. (I should know about plans by now.)
But I feel I just need to get it out there.
February is a month I hate. And no it isn't because of Valentines day.
As I wrote last week, I lost a VERY close friend in February 7 years ago.
In the last 15 years or so, I've lost A LOT of people in the month of February. I've lost grandparents, friends, a pastor, and loved ones. February seems to be a cursed month in my eyes. It totals more than 10 people I've loved.
2013 is proving to follow suit and it makes me want to crawl into a hole out of grasps of the pains in this world.
I received a message from my mother last week Thursday.
My uncle who was only 31 passed away in an accident at work.
I'm shocked....I'm discontent....I'm disconnected.
You see...
The pain is there. The realization that I will never again see this beloved friend is there.
But I'm not there. I'm here. I'm alone in all of this.
Hubby Dearest knows. He understands. He sympathizes. But as before I try to hide the pain away. It isn't fair he feels anything negative.
There is a guilt that comes with these situations. A guilt for us both that I am here and unable to be there.
I've learnt coping mechanisms over the years. I will speak regularly with my family. I will write. I will cry in silent waves as I shower or bath. My children will not know. My husband will not see. After a couple of months, the emails between my family and I will slow to a normal pace and the pain will fade into the background.
But I'm not there to say my goodbyes. I'm not there for the closure of seeing his face one last time. I'm not there to hold and be held by those in the midst of loss.
So the next time it happens...I relive this one too. Each time I loose someone...I live them all from before. There is no closure. There is no way to make my mind let go. I just keep in bottled. I keep it hidden. I keep it safe...
safe from whom...I am not sure.

Mikey was very close to me growing up. He is only 8 years older than I. We grew up two houses apart from each other. We would go fishing with my Dad. He taught me to skateboard. He walked me home from primary school everyday and fixed my after school snacks exactly how I wanted them.
I remember once when I was 6 I had some how managed to talk this teenager into playing beauty shop with me! He vowed never again.
I would curl up in his lap on the couch and watch Mortal Kombat (back when it was still cool...oh hell IT IS STILL COOL!! Our kids will never know the joys of the first video games!;-])
I remember when the 'air brush' art sets came out and he was one of the first to get one. I'd dance around him in my most annoying voice crying to get him to let me play with it!
I remember once when he got in trouble at the local Walmart and I cried in the car as my grandma had to go pick him up. As we stood there they asked me what was wrong and I feared they were 'a lockin' my Mikey away.' The things teenagers do right?!?
He introduced me to Snoop Doggity Dog and Tupac.
He laughed as I blared Britney Spears and Nsync and sung EVERY lyric. ;-)
Once, after having been warned multiple times by Mikey that I'd get hurt, I got hurt jumping from a barn to a trampoline. He was the first at my side and promised to never tell my parents what happened. He never did.
All the way up until I left America, I could always call on him. Whether it was that I wanted my ex-boyfriend scared or I needed a ride home from work at 2 am. He ALWAYS answered. He ALWAYS came. He ALWAYS smiled at me.
Most of all what I remember is him always being there when I needed or even wanted him. Never any questions. Never any grief. Just a smile and a hug.
I was his only niece but I swear God had given me a brother.

So in memory of my Mikey today I post this....

I know I’m far away today

As our family gathers near
God’s blessed us with a guardian
And another listening ear

I have so many memories
Each one I hold so tight
I can name them one by one
But man this don’t feel right

Please never think I haven’t cared
Or that I’ve forgotten all the years
You can see me now day and night
And know I’ve cried a thousand tears

You were more than just an uncle
Much more than a mere friend
I have so much love for you
A love that can never end

You were always there for me
Even when I was too young to know
Your impact helped to mold me
Your spirit helped me grow

Fishing trips and summer nights
Memories of a broken heart
After school snacks and learning tricks
The pain pierces like a dart

Today we say goodbye
But never will we forget
Mikey your love was infectious
Some things in life I just don’t get…..

I love you, man, and I know you're looking down and watching over me each day. Raise a peace sign to the heavens because your among the angels now.
To my Mom, Uncle Dan, and Aunt Liz. I know you're mourning a brother today. Cherish the memories. Give each other hugs for me. Soak in the love.

Shana..

7 Years an Angel

I’m all too familiar with the pain this life knows how to deal. It drives a mean bargain most times and holds all the cards you need. I’ve felt the pain of loss and know all too well the destruction left in the wake of walking out. It is because of this that I have such a hard time building genuine and solid relationships. It is not a concept I am very adept to. I’m a very open person usually but I battle with nurturing a connection with someone.


As I’ve gotten older and learnt how life changes in the flicker of an eye, I’ve become more particular about the people I choose to have relationships with. This wasn’t always the case though.

When I was younger and still in school, it seemed I was making new friends and partying with a different group quicker than some girls go through boyfriends! (I swear high school can be more eventful than Days of Our Lives!) When I became an upper classman it was my turn to guide the freshman through their stages!

I was a member of the dance team (a captain) and took very seriously my roll. This wasn’t some teen movie version of a hazing. The new girls on the team were brought in and introduced when they were still in grade eight. We held practices all summer long before their first day of high school and had camp every summer! This was when the cliques were formed. This was when we choose our little sisters. This was the time in which we made lasting bonds to carry us through the next year of games, dances, all day practices and competition season. This was when I met Lauren.

We all sat in the cafeteria of the school. It was miserably hot. As a seasoned team member I sat with the girls from previous years suitably sizing up the newbies. We were excited. Ecstatic. This was going to be our year. We had a new coach. We had new uniforms. We had new team members. We had it all.

I knew the moment we spoke that she and I would be friends. Lauren was a bubbly person. Easy to get to know and innocent. Jeeze she was innocent. Maybe that is what I loved so much with her. I could forget my already checkered history and just be a girl with her.

We immediately were friends. From our American Eagle jeans to our Birkenstocks, we were two peas in a pod. You can imagine my disappointment when she wouldn’t be attending camp with us because she was on vacation with her family.

Still, Lauren returned, school started, and there was high school antics to be had. I can’t describe all that went on over the time we were friends. Simply because I do not have the space.

There were parties at the university and at friends houses. There was football games with short skirted uniforms and cheerleaders who thought they were better than us. There were boys to break our hearts and there were teachers to drive us mad.

And there was practice. Oh there were lots of practices. After school, before school, and quick 5 am Walmart runs for donuts before a 6 am Saturday session. We worked our butts off. As our routines came together and our moves sharpened so did our friendship.

We talked about everything! We did everything together. For once in my life, I had a friendship that was real and genuine with no strings attached.

She even stuck by me when I walked out on the team. Fed up as captain and unable to handle the spiral affect that was happening I decided that the dance was no longer in my feet. But Lauren never felt that way about our friendship. I still took her and picked her up from practices.

It was February 4, 2006. She’d had her first ever competition and couldn’t wait to tell me all about it. We talked and she told me all the ups and downs for the day. Disappointed about a loss but still her cheery self at having had the experience she’d worked so hard for. She expressed how desperately she wished I hadn’t quit and would come back to the team.

As a stubborn teenager this angered me. To me it seemed my best friend wasn’t supporting my decision! This is solely the most regrettable moment in my life. I told Laurent that I had to cancel our plans for the night as I was sleeping over at my moms.

I went to dinner with my dad, met up with my boyfriend and we went to my moms to watch movies.

Lauren made other plans and continued to call me to come out.

I’ve never in my life wished more I’d just have answered the phone.

Hours later I got the call that has changed my life. When I answered the phone I could tell my girlfriends had been partying and after all it was Saturday night. We tended to get into some sillyness and figured what ever they wanted was about to be some kind of prank in a pathetic attempt to get me to come out.

Immediately I was in shock. This prank was taking it to far. Above the sound of sirens (how were the pulling that off) and behind choked back sobs, I heard two words that were beyond believable. Laurens dead.

Screaming I told them it was a creul joke and hung up the phone. But before I could tell my mom what was going on my phone was ringing again. My heart stopped. Literally I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. This was my best friend. A girl I introduced as my sister. This was the first Saturday in months…MONTHS…that I wasn’t with her. She was having dinner with her dad then going to a friends house. I know this cannot be. This girl is my lifeline in all that happens in the world of high school. I couldn’t have a hair melt down or a jean get too tight without consulting her. This was taking it beyond natural limits.

Finally I answer and immediately start yelling at them. On the other end a level headed (as always) Megan tells me very seriously that they aren’t joking. She tells me where the accident is and that I need to get there as Laurens dad was just pulling up.

The next couple of hours blur through my mind. It is winter and I run out without a coat and in my slops. My mom still is unsure exactly what is going on and quickly hands Stephan (the boyfriend) my coat and says to keep an eye on me. I’ve never driven so fast in my life and a 15 minute drive took under 10 as I sped through our town to the outskirts where my friend lay in the cold.

Call in fate or call in coincidence but as I started my car that night Carrie Underwood’s “Jesus Take the Wheel” came through my speakers. As the sound engulfed my every emotion I knew what they had told me was true. The tears burned hot down my face.

I turned the corner to the road where the accident happened. It was still about a mile and a half up the country street but I could see the flashing emergency lights already. I couldn’t carry on. I stopped the car and climbed out hysterically.

I am not sure what goes through our minds at a point like this. I stood in the middle of the road at night screaming into the nothingness. I fought with every ounce of strength I had as Stephan ushered me back into the car.

He drove the rest of the way and I was out of the car before it even stopped on sight. As I ran towards the over turned car multiple officers stopped me. I can only imagine how I looked and seemed as I flailed and hit whomever approached me. Eventually Laurens stepmom saw me and told them to let me go. I was allowed past the yellow tape but not to the car. She explained what the paramedics and told her and sat me down in the fire truck.

I’m not sure how long we sat there or how many more friends showed up during this time but eventually it was decided all of us would go to the hospital where the driver of the car, Shannon, had been taken for minor injuries.

Over 50 of us sat in the ER triage not knowing where to go or what to do next. We held each other. We cried. We asked a lot of whys.

We were told that Shannon was ok and would be released that night. We gathered together the closest of friends with Shannon and went to IHOP since it was the only place open at 2 am.

The next morning we gathered together at church, went to lunch, then met with an officer from the night before at the accident sight. We walked over and over again the path the car took and listened as we were told what had happened.

They weren’t drinking. They weren’t doing drugs. They weren’t even speeding.

The girls had stopped by McDonalds then took the long way home as they gossiped, phoned boys, and belted out lyrics to all the popular songs.

Shannon took her eyes off the road for a moment. Just a moment as she reached for a new CD. A deer came into the road and froze in her headlights. It was icy and snowy out and Shannon jerked the wheel. The car flipped and rolled and dug into the ditch on Laurens side. Shannon walked away by the grace of God and ran for help. Lauren never suffered and was in God’s arms before the car stopped moving.

After this, I’ve kept my heart on reserve. It took days to accept it and we held a huge memorial. I gave speeches at school about the dangers of driving at night and how we must be extra aware during hunting season of the animals. Nothing brings her back. Only time heals the pain.

A relationship like the one I had with Lauren can only be experienced not explained. She was more than a friend and not a day has gone by that I haven’t thanked God for the time he allowed her to be a part of my life. I learnt that true friendships do exist.

Occasionally when I walk down the street or stand in line at a checkout I will have to do a double take. I still know her smell. It haunts my sleep. Sometimes if I’m lucky I even smell it in a breeze of wind.

I became very close with Shannon after all of this and we are still close although we are thousands of miles apart. Lil Mister and her son FatMac only differ in age by 2 weeks!

Not a day has passed though that I haven’t asked God why her.

So today, I take a moment and remind myself of the beauty God has placed in my life. I thank him for the people close to me and remind myself to always ALWAYS take every moment they are here for granted.

The pain doesn’t go away, it has just formed its own little place in my heart to stay locked away.

Shana..