Mom's Curlers

"Do you know where your mother's curlers are?"

The question took me off guard.

My step dad called and asked me where my mom's rollers were.  Mom died several years ago from lung cancer.  My sister and I went through all of her stuff at his request and tossed what we tossed and kept what we kept.

I thought it was a strange question.  So I made a smart ass comment...

"Are you planning on making a change?"

He didn't even chuckle.

His girlfriend wanted to have her hair curled.

I sat on the other end of the phone...stunned.

Why would anyone want to use a dead woman's curlers?

I must admit that I struggle daily with the loss of my mom.  But I knew that my step dad was going to move on.

The problem is that I don't think he understands my own grief.  He doesn't understand that things he randomly does or say regarding my mom really bothers me.

It was very very difficult to see another woman sit at my mom's table and even more difficult to watch her sleep in my mom's bed.

(My eyes sting when I typed that just now)

The first time I met the girlfriend, she was sitting topless at the kitchen table right where my mom had her coffee.  I wanted to vomit and run.

The thing with the curlers is that my mom always set her hair.  She used those black rollers with the bristles and the plastic pointy pins and once her hair was up, she wrapped it in a red bandanna.

I could never figure out how in the hell did she sleep with those things in her hair.

In the morning she would take out the rollers and tease her hair until it was mad and sky high in the hair.  Sometimes I wish I had a picture of that sight.

I don't think that I can ever go visit the house ever again.  It is just like my mom was erased from a sketch and you can see the blurred lines just barely.

Grief is a weird emotion.

Pain Caused by Heartbreak Can Leave Scars

The following "poem" was a free write I did back in 2008.  I found it while I was looking for something else.

I met Mike in 2006 and we fell in love and then he disappeared.  With no rhyme or reason or explanation.  He just disappeared.  Sometime in 2009 I heard from him again.  His sweet talk and lovey dovey crap came at me like a freight train.  I was cautious and eventually pushed him away and out of my thoughts.  I really haven't thought much about him since then and I found this.

The emotional turmoil that the man left me in was something I have never experienced before in my life.  I think this may be way I am so guarded against having serious relationships now.

Pain caused by heartbreak can leave scars.

(apologies for the hard language in the photo.....it fit the emotion at the time of the writing)

God, I miss you.

I hate how it feels to miss you.

I had always expected to be friends.

Then love came oh so unexpected.

You said you loved me first and patiently waited until I loved you next.

To you I was beautiful.

I only wanted to be beautiful to you.

You asked me why I was crying.

I didn't want to tell.

You said I would see you again.

You lied...I think.

Months passed and seasons changed.

You left me with questions without obvious answers.  Subtle shades of grey cloud my reasoning.

I blame myself most of the time.

What did I say?

You know, I see you in my dreams.  Haunting me, taunting me...

Standing there.

I try to push you away.

I try to kick you out.

You are always there.

In my heart, on my mind...

I told you with tears that my biggest fear was losing you.

You assured me that it would never happen..

I am afraid that it already has.

Goodbye my lover...

Stingy

I haven't written in awhile.

I do miss it and during random parts of my day, I think...."I should blog about that".

Then I get home, exhausted, hungry and uninspired.

It is sad but I always say that if I don't come home from work tired, I didn't do my job right.

Anyway, that isn't why I decided to write.

I have realized that I have become very stingy with my free time.  I see many people every day.  I talk to strangers.  I help them find what they are looking for.  I talk to my coworkers.  I help them every day with this and that.

When I get home.  I want my time.

It is kind of weird.

I sometimes don't even want to talk on the phone.

Time is something that I don't have much of.

On my days off, I like to sit and do my own thing.  I have even pulled out my beads and crap to start working on my creative jive again.

On another thought....isn't stingy a funny word?