A letter to my Father on Father's Day

Many years ago, father's day would have been spent together, all of us around the kitchen table. Gifts and cards bought, dinner served and wine poured, drunk and replenished. A feast. Happy times.

I have spent the last few years, on the approach of father's day, passing cards that lined the shelves, feeling heavy of heart. Something I would never buy again. For you.

When you left us, you left broken hearts, smashed and destitute. Life was dark; a curtain drawn, deterring sunlight. We fell to our knees, grasping at hands to help us stand, but we were all too weak to lift our heads. The night was endless, daylight extinct. We spent each day wishing for the 'old days' yet yearning for the next; take away the pain. Slowly, we existed.

Weeks flowed into months and in turn, years. We found hands to hold onto, shoulders to lean on. We stood up, in anxious state and uncertainty. Will this life hammer hit again and knock us off our feet? We held onto each other, helping our sister, brother, mother. We grew stronger day by day. Letting the sunshine return to our lives lifted our hearts a little, and we were able to smile again.

These days the sun is always shining. The light that shines into my life reminds me of you ~ you were a bright light. When I think of you, I see gardens of flowers and hear beautiful music. I see love.

You left behind a legacy. You taught us all about softness of heart, kindness, forgiveness and understanding. Everyone that knew you, loved you. You were a special man. A man of true value and love for all.

When I look at our family now, I smile. In my darkest days, I never thought I would. Time passed through those 'dark days', and although I still feel a heavy heart from time to time, I know that the pain will not last. We have each other. We are a strong family.

The wind blows softly through the trees, rustling the leaves and I take time for reflection. If I listen, I can hear you. 'Be happy', you say. 'Live your life in colourful detail, be who you aspire to be. Be you, for me'.

We all have some of your blessed qualities dad, I am grateful for that. My heart is always full.

I love you dad.

There comes a time in life when you look at your children and you know you have to take a step back. Letting them learn through their own experiences and/or mistakes. Knowledge of life you may impart, but no matter how much it hurts you not to sweep them up and wrap them in a warm blanket, you are just left to guide them forward.

When they're babies, you cradle, saving from harm A bruised knee is soon forgotten with a tender kiss from mum or dad but then again, physical knocks are an easy heal.

There are some things in life you cannot teach your children. Emotional intelligence is one of them. Personally, I find this to be the hardest to deal with of all. The time when you know you cannot make things better with just a hug or a hot chocolate is that time when you step back and reevaluate, making mental note to stop talking and start listening.

That little baby you held and nurtured in your arms isn't a baby anymore and although you've done your very best to ensure his or her well being, emotionally, you have no say in the matter.

Emotional intelligence is an area, which I believe, is a life tool but feel can only come from experience. You cannot teach your children how to deal with emotional outbursts or silence from another, just the tools on how they react to them.

In my life experience, I've found that overthinking troubles usually causes more uneccesary worry, as the weight of the world begins to feel heavy on your shoulders. My philosophy is, 'Can I do something about this'?  If the answer is 'no', then I will strive to let it go. I have found that as time passes, life has levelled out and balance has been restored. What about the children? Well, they will have to live through these trying times of theirs too, in order to secure cognition.

Life is joyous, a gift. You cannot teach someone to be happy, it has to come from inside the heart. Knowing that 'tomorrow' is life's reset button helps to move us all forward with a positive gait...and may we all get there, one baby step at a time.

I never thought the nature/nurture debate would surface again in my lifetime...what do I know?

Tempting a Muse

As much as I'd like to think I understand life, with all it's twists and turns, more often than not, I don't. Questions I cannot answer, actions I cannot begin to comprehend, all make for a shrugging of the shoulders. In order to remedy this, I make things up and write them down.

I am an avid people watcher, have been ever since I was a little girl. I often find myself staring at people, sometimes slipping into their 'get the fuck outta here' look when I've hung around their person too long. Can't help it, always been the same. It's mostly unconscious and it's not until the person turns to me and engages in eye contact, the trance is broken. But people watching is fun. Transporting yourself into someone else's life for a while can be an engaging albeit daunting experience.

Christmas 2011 I was seated on a bus, gazing out of the window and looking forward to getting home from work. The bus stopped to let a passenger disembark and it was there I noticed a house. Standard roses lined the pathway to the door, a paint flaking racing green, and my mind was invited in.  The curtains were open and a single light bulb cast shadows over the nicotine faded flowers wallpaper, barely lighting the room. Cheap ornaments adorned the fireplace, I assumed complete with a light sprinkling of dust. Family gifts perhaps?

It struck me that whilst I was sitting there, in my santa hat, laden down with booze and christmas goodies, that maybe this person would be spending christmas alone. No fancy stuff. A couple of cards on the sideboard from old friends who still happened to be shuffling about, the only constant reminder that they were still thought of from time to time. A single tinsel affair. A frozen turkey dinner for one. A merry christmas indeed. My heart sank, my christmas spirit evaporating quicker than I could think. I busied myself by rummaging through my shopping to shake off the gloom.

When I got home, I thought about it again. I quickly began to realise that what I had seen and what I had imagined had merged without me even being aware of it. Imagination. A marvelous thing. So then, envisaging a miser who stashed rolls of notes under the mattress and dodged buying 'a round' at the local, I began to feel a little less troubled.

Stories are born from these 'visions' or daydreams. They are treasured when they arrive although I have to say, can be quite alarming at times.

Looking for inspiration doesn't always work. Sometimes you just have to let it happen, and if it doesn't...going after your Muse with a hammer will cause you nothing but stress and a blank sheet of A4. Let her be, she will return in her own time.

'The Muse must have shape. You will write a thousand words a day for ten or twenty years in order to try and give it shape, to learn about grammar and story construction so that these become part of the Subconscious, without restraining or distorting the Muse.

By living well, by observing as you live, by reading well and observing as you read, you have fed Your Most Original Self. By training yourself in writing, by repetitious exercise, imitation, good example, you have made a clean, well-lighted place to keep the Muse'. Ray Bradbury ~ 'How To Feed and Keep a Muse'

BUT, having said that, why not give yourself a break? Allow yourself room to breathe, go for a walk. Feel free. Forgive yourself if you haven't reached the ridiculous word count you set yourself for the day. Go jump in some puddles and stare down some drains...after all, that is where Charlie Bucket found the treasure to buy his golden ticket. Ray Bradbury may very well be a genius, but he isn't the one sitting in your chair.

Fly High Little Butterfly

A little caterpillar climbed a tall tree and came to a stop on a leafy branch high up in the green. He rested awhile. He looked around and he was happy with his resting place, soaking his body in the sunshine and feeling at ease being 'just so'. With the sun warming his blood and life around him very still, he felt content. A few weeks passed and the little caterpillar found he was becoming restless, 'What is this?' he thought to himself. 'I am not understanding why I am feeling this way, I have everything I will ever need up here in this place' . He looked around, nothing had changed. The leaves still a glistening green, swaying in the breeze: the sun, a golden yellow button giving new life to all below him, he began to feel sleepy. Tired. The little caterpillar decided he would close his eyes awhile. He made himself a bed in which to sleep, turning over and over in order to feel comfortable. Through his effort and energy spent, he fell asleep. He started to dream here in his safe place.

The sun shone a blistering red, painting the sky a masterpiece over an emerald green homeland. Leaves applauded in the breeze; an ovation for the sun's stupendous fanfare of the day and invited the flowers to stretch tall and embrace the goodness of the hour. Mother fox called her cubs to suckle and rest a while and safely in her den, exchanged stories and adventures of past hours. The mountains towered high, slicing the skyline in two with jagged tip beauty and hats of snow; silent white with thunderous voice, charming in her flawless beauty. The stream, the giver of life, the cleanser of souls. All was magnificent...

The little caterpillar started to stir, sleep complete and energy replenished. He thought how beautiful a dream could be, but feeling a little sad that he would never be invited to share his dream vision of this beautiful place, for he was far too small to carry himself toward these things. He looked outside of his sleeping place, shards of sunshine divided the trees and stung his eyes. He blinked. How he wished he could travel toward the sun and see the running water the birds so often talked of. He felt alone. Suddenly then, a winged beauty appeared and rested aside him. She was most splendid. "Come with me" she said, 'Let's go exploring'. The little caterpillar laughed at the beautiful creature and told her that he was unable to reach such heights of adventure, for he was small and earth walking. The beautiful creature looked at the caterpillar closely and sighed, 'You are not looking closely enough little caterpillar, for while you were sleeping, you took on the colours of your world. Come with me, see for yourself your future, your colour'.

The beautiful creature then took flight, asking once again for the little caterpillar to follow. 'Believe in yourself little one, for although within this life we are very small, there is nothing greater than a mind full of dreams and a heart full of love'. The little caterpillar lifted his head and saw that he was changed. Rejoiced, he shed a tear as he looked back toward his old life...he flew away.

Fly high little butterfly...

For my friend Maria Passuni @mariaineselvira ~ with love