Reblogged from Forever Invictus:

The ruins in Pompeii

Today is December 23rd. I have just woken up with my eyes overflowing with tears and the room seems shrouded in mist. Today’s entry in my diary reads, collect Florentina and Andrew from NYU, let Christmas begin! How is it possible to keep see-sawing from thinking that Andrew is alive only to remember that he is not.

Read more… 638 more words

“It’s post traumatic stress,” my therapist explained.

She was referring to the fact that I have become EXTREMELY vulnerable to external stressors.  Things that might be more of an aggravation to someone else, have the potential of bringing me down (same for all survivors)

Anyway, I have been down, to be more precise, I have spent a great deal of time lying down on the sofa, while traveling back and forth from hell.  In between, thank goodness, I dozed off, sometimes for just for a few minutes.  On one of those occasions when I woke up and opened my eyes, I saw Andrew sitting on the sofa opposite me.  He was looking at me, studying me intently.  Then, when I became fully conscious, he disappeared.

Darling Andrew, come back, stay longer, let’s chat, let me ask you a few questions!

Frozen Brain Syndrome.

Andrew’s Ice Breakers.

I have been feeling as I did when I wrote this post a while ago.

Today I am hopeful that I will go for a walk and do some writing.

Love

Esmeralda

Universal Mother – Benign Universe.

In any case, here I go:

Happy birthday to me, Happy birthday to me, Happy birthday to

Happy birthday deam me, Happy birthday to me  - Yesterday

Thank you to all my friend who called and wrote

I love you and you made a big difference to THIS life, and you helped me, you did.

Love

Esmeralda

Hey, better later than never

Beautiful Whitney Houston

Watching Oprah Winfrey’s two year-old interview with Whitney Houston a couple of day ago, I was reminded of….

Well, first of all, I had seen that interview when it was first shown a little over two years ago.  I know, because Andrew was still alive then, and I was watching Oprah because of the Law of Attraction thing that I was writing about at the time – But that’s another story.  Anyway, at the time I was moved and happy for this beautiful woman who had battled and, thank God, got the better  the demons that tormented her soul.

Watching it this time around, four weeks after Whitney’s death I was…

During the interview, smiling happily and proudly, she had said of her daughter:
“I’ll always be here for her.  I’m preparing her.  I don’t want anyone to touch her.  We’ll always be together,” and she went on to express more such sentiments.  Her daughter, in the audience at the time, also spoke of her pride for her mother and of their very close bond.

And now Whitney’s dead!  By all accounts, by her own hand!

I can guess at the unholy pain that must have driven this loving mother, this human being, to throw in the towel. Those moments, be they only minutes or seconds… Oh God… it’s like being thrown from a precipice; being faced by each one of your worse fears, horrors and terrors.  Yes, they come, hold your face and make you look at them, and you cower in a corner and… you pray, you breathe, you remind yourself that this is only a moment… and you live to see another day, and you are even happy and grateful, joyful, enthusiastic… but it is an ongoing thing obviously, because there are times, when some are defeated.

Erice, Sicily

But I bow to them.  I want to pay tribute to them, again and again for their bravery, courage, hope, faith, love, sense of duty and commitment to their loved ones, that kept them going for as long as each of those lost one, did.  Having seen inside that chamber of horrors, I grieve for them.  I grieve that for them, at the treacherous moment, support was not at hand.

Rest Whitney, beloved daughter, mother, sister, wife…  Rest beautiful being.

I leave you with some of the words that Reverend Weston Stevens, spoke at the funeral of someone who died of suicide.  His powerful and loving eloquence, puts it very well.

Love,

Esmeralda

Here are some of his words:

“Our friend died on his own battlefield. He was killed in action fighting a civil war. He fought against adversaries that were as real to him as his casket is real to us. They were powerful adversaries. They took toll of his energies and endurance. They exhausted the last vestiges of his courage and his strength. At last these adversaries overwhelmed him. And it appeared that he had lost the war. But did he? I see a host of victories that he has won!

“For one thing, he has won our admiration, because even if he lost the war, we give him credit for his bravery on the battlefield. And we give him credit for the courage and pride and hope that he used as his weapons as long as he could. We shall remember not his death, but his daily victories gained through his kindnesses and thoughtfulness, through his love for family and friends, for animals and books and music, for all things beautiful, lovely and honorable. We shall remember not his last day of defeat, but we shall remember the many days that he was victorious over overwhelming odds. We shall remember not the years we thought he had left, but the intensity with which he lived the years that he had. Only God knows what this child of His suffered in the silent skirmishes that took place in his soul. But our consolation is that God does know, and understands.”

Erice, Sicily

Andrew’s death has really done a number on me.   I know I’m not the only in the family to suffer, but I can only speak for myself.  In any case, while there are common denominators in grief,  we each have our individual signature brand of challenges.

I’m depressed.  I am confused about everything at the moment.

With each rising sun I cry and pray for enough strength to get through another day.

When night comes, I’m grateful that it’s time to go to bed.

But I know, I know, I know that this too shall pass.  Nothing is always difficult, or always hard, or always easy.

Oh Andrew, my love

I remember when it used to take a while between the time when the clocks went back (where are they going back to? the children used to joke), and when they went forward.

I’m stuck on November 1st 2009, the day when the clocks went back that year. Then came Monday, November 2nd, and then… Tuesday, November 3rd – D.A.D.  aka: the day Andrew died. 

I’m sure there’s no obvious logic to this, but the fact is that ever since, this thing with the clocks going backwards and forwards, seems to happen while I sleep. Which it does of course, but I don’t mean it like that.

And what makes it even more noticeable that we are artificially one hour ahead this morning, is the fact that I did not sleep well last night.  To start with, I went to bed a bit on the early side. Still.

When I was asleep, the phone rang; wrong number. But I managed to go back to sleep.

Then, whatever monsters I was fighting with during the night,  they did not only disturb my sleep, but Robert’s as well.

“Mummy, are you alright?” Robert asks from the doorway.

I turn toward him, but I’m confused and don’t answer.

“Mummy, you were screaming.  Are you alright?” he asks again.

I mumble something unintelligible, but he gets the message that I’m fine, and goes back to his room.

A while later the cat decides that she has to go down to the basement, but seeing that the door to it is closed, she needs someone to open it for her.  And I don’t how it is with your cat, but mine will not take the lack of an answer as a sign to leave it. On the contrary, she takes it to mean that you didn’t hear her and therefore she raises the volume. I love her, but really, Zoe!

Anyway.  Then I wake up again and this time I want to know what time it is. I go to the kitchen and the cooker’s clock says 05:00. 

“Hm,” I ask myself.  ”Did Robert change the clock when he got back last night, or he didn’t, and it is in fact six o’clock?”

Computers do it automatically, don’t they?” I asked Robert over dinner last night, and he confirmed it.  So, now, with the kitchen clock saying 05:00 when it could actually be 06:00 o’clock, I decide to turn the computer on to check what the actual time is.  And the time is: six o’clock.  While I’m there I tell myself that I might as well check my emails. So I check, and there’s one that rubs me the wrong way.  Nothing serious, just the tone. I draft a reply, then decide not to send it straight away.  It is always better to wait when annoyed.  I turn the computer off and try to go back to sleep.  

Now I am cold, but instead of getting out of bed to go and turn up the heating (we turn it down or off at night), I curl up into a ball.  And I pray.  I pray!  I pray that no matter what, I will always do all I can to speak and act from a place of love and awareness. Then I doze off again.

Of course, if instead of being in England, Hugh had been here, he would have done the clocks round before going to bed last night.

Now I’m going to … wow, is that the time?  There’s lots I want to do today, including some restorative yoga, better get going.  i leave you with a picture of a place I like in Trapani, Sicily.  Looking at it, I feel as though time, there at least, is standing still for a while.

Have a great day everyone.

Love,

Esmeralda

But who knows, maybe it is no longer in service for us but it might be for someone else.

Anyway, I am trying to make myself get ready for yoga.

But do you know something? Everything I do, go to yoga, go for a walk, cook, brush my teeth, get up… you name it… how can I put it without being dramatic? There are still times, like everyday at the moment, that I have to push myself.  There are still times when I would rather hide under the blankets and… cry, yes cry.

I think I’ll do it though this morning, I know I’ll be able to assert myself, yep I’m coming… Ishta level 1 And don’t let the level 1 designation fool you, believe me, it IS a workout, when it’s over my legs are all wobbly.

Shoot, is that the time… haven’t brushed my teeth yet, better be off.

Love to everyone

Esmeralda

Phone Call.