Letter to the dead

Summer is here in Phoenix.  The doors are shut and the air is on. Thankfully, this year, we have two wonderful french doors, side by side, for the light to shine through while the house is closed up.  It's Memorial Day and I've been layin' low, just doing nothing really.

Memorial Day, no, I don't really think of the men and women who have served our country...wait...I mean yes, I do, but all my little life I have really thought of Memorial Day as the day we remember the dead.  And because of that, I'm writing this...

I want to remember Dave...so, I'll write this letter to him...Here ya go Dave...

My Dear Young, Eighteen Year Old Boyfriend,

Wow...It's been so long, but I am remembering today.  I remember our relationship.  I think it was a good two years that we were together.  I was young, but it was a very formidable  time of my life;our
relationship had been going south for quite some time.  Arguments, etc etc etc...I won't get into that.  But it was then and the arguments were real.  The arguments!  So, my little 17 year old self decided that I would be the "woman",  that I would be independent.  I called it quits with you.  The next night you called me...as you usually would when there were problems between us, and my sister answered.  I told her to tell you that I never wanted to see you again.  And that was that.  I actually felt very good for standing up for myself and my feelings.  But the next night you were killed in a silly accident.  Your friend (whom I never liked) was driving...he took the turn too fast.  You were in his jeep, and at that time, there were no seat belt laws.  He took it too fast and you both were thrown from the vehicle.   Supposedly you both died instantly of head wounds.  I had a friend who was at the scene. He said he saw you both, laying there.  He said that your hands were moving...but the authorities said you were both dead.

I was with my friend Sue that night. We had gone out "driving around" as there was nothing else to do. We drove by the accident site just after it happened.  I remember commenting on it..something like "look, something is happening over there.  Must be an accident."  It was God's grace that I didn't stop and get closer to see.  I have no idea what seeing you lying there all bloody would have done to my young self.

When I got home that night my mother was waiting for me.  As I walked in, she looked desperate, but relieved.  "Oh Peggy", she cried, "something horrible has happened."  And I screamed at the top of my lungs, "If Dave is dead, God can go to hell.".  And thus began a change in my life that would never stop.
I won't dwell on that. What I will write about is that I remember you.  You have been gone since 1969, and I remember you.  I remember the good times as well as the bad.  I remember riding on you 650 BSA on the back; wind blowing in my hair, you driving.  Life was young and good.  I remember the two proms.  You didn't like to dance, I did..but I didn't care.  I really wanted to be with you. You were really my prince charming.  You bought me wonderful things.  I still have the gold bracelet....over forty years later, I still wear it.  I remember you Dave, your young, serious face, your curly brown hair, your wide, deep blue eyes that spoke volumes.  I loved you with the love of a seventeen year old girl who wanted to spend the rest of her life you.

You will always be the young love of my life.  I'm married now, with grown children and grandchildren, but your life, your death had an impact on me that I won't deny anymore.  When my husband married me, he said he felt like he was marrying a widow. Maybe.  We spoke of marriage, but things got rough didn't they.

Anyway, I miss you and will always wonder.  Whenever I dream about you, it's that you're not dead.  It's in a situation that you haven't really died, but you're not with me.  You're alive, but not with me. And in my dreams, I want you...still. Mysteries are part of our imperfect life aren't they?

A few years ago I felt like you were trying to talk to me, trying to say something. And the only way I can sum that up is that you were trying to say ," I'm sorry".   If that is what you were trying to say, well...I forgive you.  I want to say "sorry" too.  I don't understand why you had to die so young..maybe some day.

In the meantime, I hear you in songs.  That is the language I understand, and that is the language you speak.  In my opinion anyway.

I have a great husband Dave.  I mean, we've been together 38 years.  I don't know if that would have been us...but in any case, I think you know.  He's the type of guy who loves me so much, he accepts me exactly the way I am. Baggage and all. Oh, and no, he's no saint.  I have accepted him, no holes barred.  I'm a good wife.  But you will always be under my skin, in my soul. 

Because music is my language, this one's for you David Saxon.....

"Baby Blue"

Confess, your kiss still knocks me off my legs. 
The first time I saw you was like a punch right through my chest 
and I will forever, 'cause you'll forever be 
my one true broken heart, pieces inside of me and you'll forever, my baby be. 

You will rest your head, your strength once saving. 
And when you wake you will fly away, 
holding tight to the legs of all your angels. 
Goodbye my love, into your blue, blue eyes, 
your blue, blue world, you're my baby blue. 

Confess I'm not quite ready to be left. 
Still, I know I gave my level best. 
You give, you give, to this I can attest 
You made me, you made me. 
You and me forever, baby. 

You will rest your head, your strength once saving. 
And when you wake you will fly away, 
holding tight to the legs of all your angels. 
Goodbye my love, into your blue, blue eyes, 
in your blue, blue world, you and me forever. 

You will rest your head, your strength once saving. 
And when you wake you will fly away, 
holding tight to the legs of all your angels. 
Goodbye my love, into your blue, blue eyes, 
in your blue, blue world, you and me forever.

Bye bye Dave....Maybe it's not really bye bye...but maybe I should just say, "until next time".  

xoxoxo

The Sweetness Of Now

Lying outside on my hammock, dark blue sky with silver dots that are stars over head.  I'm just looking at the beauty all around me.  The colors above me; rich, dark blue, the brilliance of  what looks like diamonds in the sky,  the patterns of foliage, and I feel so alive, so right.  I think of the song "Itchycoo Park".  
"Over bridge of sighs 
To rest my eyes in shades of green Under dreamin' spiresTo Itchycoo Park, that's where I've been
It's all too beautiful!"

Inside I hear the tv and it's luring me in to dull my mind, my senses and my awareness of "now' with it's beautiful images of clean and bright living spaces inviting me to do what I'm dong now; live. But it's only an illusion of living...right now, in the hammock, swinging, dogs playing in the yard, soft  breeze blowing,...this is living.  It's sort of a catch 22 isn't it?  

It's hgtv, which is my weakness.  But I know that if I go inside and sink into my huge, down filled leather sofa, I'll forget all of the things I'm experiencing right now...I'll forget how to put them to words.  And my thoughts at this  moment are of how beautiful this world is, how the colors all around add so much peace and joy in this imperfect world. 

 I love it!!  So I choose not to go in.  Instead I  go to my room, open my computer and do what I love to do; I write.  

Watching tv can suffocate creativity so that nothing is left but empty space in one's head. 

Lately, I have been filled with gratitude, filled with appreciation for being alive.  I haven't always been like this, I've taken it for granted.  I think I'm sort of a slow learner.  At times (more than not) I drift out of reality, out of the now.  I slide slowly into the deep waves of anxiety and worry, otherwise disguised as concern.  Then of course, a song, a blue sky, a silver star just sort of snap me back to the moment...and there it is!  All the beauty.  I mean, it's been there all along hasn't it?
Funny the way it is.  (dmb)

Dear Mom,

So, yesterday I had the oddest thing happen. (However, when I think of it, maybe it wasn't so odd.) I was sitting outside enjoying yet another beautiful day here in Phoenix, and I thought to myself, only for a split second, "I need to get something for mom, Mother's Day is Sunday".  I admit though, the thought didn't even get to the word "something".  But if the thought were to run to completion, that's what it would have been. Maybe it was more like a feeling than a thought.  To put it simply, it was like you were still here, still alive,  in this world,  and I would call you, and of course, you would answer, and I would say something like, "Hi mom, happy Mother's Day!"  Weird huh?  I guess the older I get the more odd  feelings like that happen.


I mean it's normal to think more of you on days like Mother's Day and your birthday and the anniversary of your death.  Geeeez, I can't believe you've been gone so damn long.  It's so long.  Yet it seems like yesterday that you were here.  It also seems like you're here now,




like you know who your adorable great-grand daughter is,





and of course your all boy great- grand sons are.







 If it weren't for you, we, wouldn't be here, wouldn't be who we, are.









For sure, I wouldn't be who I am.

You know I've always said that you taught me more about love than any other human being.  Yesterday at our staff meeting we had this little presentation on active listening.  I can say for sure, and always have, that you listened to me. I know you remember when we would sit in the living room on Saxony and you would just sit and listen to me talk about my favorite songs and their lyrics.  You just sat there, looked at me, and truly listened.  Of course I don't remember anything you said because I was the one going on and on about what I loved.


But there were times when it was me who actively listened to you. I remember you telling me about your boyfriends.  I loved that. I loved getting a little glimpse into who you were before you were a wife and mother. When you were just you, Mary Jane Townsend.





I think you must have been the bomb.  Truly!  You were just a pistol.   Grandma told me about how when she would want to swat your bottom when you were a little girl, she would have to chase you around the dining room table.  And when it was your turn to do the dishes, you would go and hide until you would hear the silver ware clanking; you knew the job was done and you could come out of hiding and play, free of work.

I listened when you told me that grandpa would sit in the dark when you came home from dates.  And you knew he was there because you could see the light from his cigarette in the window.  I listened when you told me about a boy you really loved, and when he wanted to marry you, how his  Protestant mother said he she would disown him if he did because you were Catholic. Even when I was young, I thought, "What a woos...I'm glad she didn't marry that little momma's boy."  Ha! Instead you married a Jewish guy whose mother wouldn't come to the wedding because he married a non Jew.  Hmmmmm...history seems to repeat itself in our family.  At least Dad stood up to his family and married you anyway.  How could he not? He knew what he had and he knew how classy, beautiful and intelligent you were.


Anyway, it's Mother's Day, not Valentine's Day, again I digress.  I think I just wanted to say to you that yes, you were a pretty good mother who taught me unconditional love, but I also see you as a person, apart from me, apart from Dad.  And I see an amazing, feisty woman with creativity that didn't belong in the suburbs.  (But, it was in the 40's and 50's, the suburbs is where it was happening.)


I also know that you still see us, our family. At least that's what I choose to believe.  For some reason I think you see Maya especially.  Last night at the talent show she was in, I felt you were looking on at her, at your grand-daughter and at me.




I miss you mom...but c'est la vie.  Thank you for having me and being there for me always, I mean always.  And thanks so much for giving me that special song when you died.  I love you and always will.......

Pegala

Ramblings About Life and Death On a Beautiful Sunday Evening in the Desert

Now, I am sitting outside on my vintage, chalk painted brown wicker sofa, listening to the wind in the palms.  I'm looking at my little, very little, piece of paradise here in the east valley, thinking of life and how things come an go.


My three lovely, four legged friends are all around me, and my two legged lover/friend/husband, is sitting in the brown wicker chair in our little seating arrangement on our patio. (It must all match, thus the brown wicker.)  I have to say life is good.  We are dog sitting our grand-dog, Luke, who is about 14, same age as my princess Lexy.  And for them life as they know it, is almost over. Their sight is failing and their hearing has failed them a few years ago.


 I must admit, I'm getting on too.  I think of "the end" too.  Whether it be tomorrow or thirty years from now, (I would be REALLY old by today's standards thirty years from now.)  I know that soon, I will say goodbye.  I thought of that this morning during church.  I don't even know what the pastor was saying but I thought of my mortality and I think I had a very slight panic attack.  I love life.  It's about time too.  For the longest time I just sort of tolerated it.  I hate to say it, but I"m vulnerable here...so be patient.


Sitting here chatting with my other half chatting about mundane things make life very comfortable  I mean we don't sit here and discuss the ways we hope to die.  But it's there, in the back of my mind.  How will I die?  I really hate that our culture is so damn uptight about discussion concerning death.  However, my daughter says that I need to sort of keep it light if I want friends to hang out with. She's right, of course she's right, who wants to talk about death? Other than me.  

My life couldn't be better right now. I mean there are things I think of, knowing that the future is pretty much behind me as far as seeing multiple possibilities.  My life is peaceful tranquil and filled with family and friends that mean a whole lot to me. For however this sounds, my home is my little castle. It is the escape from the world of pressures and responsibilities of others. I enter this little paradise where my husband usually cooks me amazing meals on a Sunday, where my four legged loved ones greet me at the door EVERY time I come home, and where I can look at all the things these four walls contain and love each and every piece of art displayed.


Saying that, my extremely beautiful daughter called saying her and my wonderful son in law and my above average grandchildren are home from a weekend in Cali visiting their her brother and the ever so famous Disneyland.  (A place I never ever dreamed of taking my children for lack of funds in the mid west.)


Contemplating my life, I can't even begin to tell you how grateful I am to be alive.  Truly, it won't be long and I won't be, but now, I'm grateful.  Love you all...xoxoxo