Memories

All posts tagged Memories

Stop Spinning so fast.

Published June 4, 2017 by Kappaloca

Can the world just please stop spinning for a while? Just a few seconds slower please.

As much as I try to fit everything i still want to do in one day I keep finding that I did not do all the things I set out to do. Am I just getting old and slow or has the world’s rotation sped up a bit?

I promised to do the washing today. Did I do it? NO – Because it was more important to go have a Milkshake an Waffle day with my daughters. I say my daughters as I did not even invite my son. He stayed home to watch his Dad and get his homework done. I will spend a Mom and Son day with him alone. Who gives a shit about washing anyway? Wash it tomorrow. If the sun comes out. And if it does not? Well there is always a next day.

Time has a way of slipping away from us. Tasks pile up and some are trashed as they are not that important. Always make time for Family. Family takes prevalence over any tasks that needed doing.

I had a bucket list. Yup … HAD. Who cares if I had done a skydive or jumped off a Cliff or seen The Eiffel Tower? What matters most is that my children had seen me and I had seen them. Some days I feel like killing them or dropping them off inside the Lion Park but  then we kiss and make up and Life goes on. I want them to remember the Good and the Bad times so creating some Good times are of paramount importance as I will not always be around. I am going greyer by the day, getting older by the minute but I swear what ever time I do have left (No I am not dying ) I will do my very best to create the Memories they will need one day to carry on.

I realise now that sweating all the small stuff like cleaning their rooms and making sure their nails are always clean is just a bunch of shit they do not need in life. Being alive, Laughing,  and spending TIME together is what matters most. 

Have I taken on too much? Who’s fault is that? Not their fault.

Am I complaining with a Silver spoon dangling from my hip? Yes

Is the world still spinning too fast? Yes

Can I get back the time wasted on trivial things? NO!

Would I do things differently if given the chance? YES!!!

Do I feel guilty for the missed opportunities? NO! It is unnecessary to take a trip on the guilt train or to play the blame game. Everything happened for a reason. See it as a learning curve. a fulfilment of a Bucket List created by Nature.

It is what it is. 

The only spinning I now need to do is spin the washing in the Tumble Drier.

Having Milkshake with my Grandson makes Life slow down enough. For me the world spun slower for a few minutes today.

PS: I love you.

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As the hourglass spills it’s contents

Published May 13, 2014 by Kappaloca

The Hourglass has only so many crumbs of Sand.

Life is measured by those crumbs.

And so Today has been another day of Heartache.

Saying Goodbye is never a good feeling and seeing those who have loved in so much pain leaves no one unscathed. Too many deaths. Too many broken souls. So many tears.

Keep the Memories and make them last. 
Condolences is said but the pain can not be erased. Everyone deals with their anguish in their own way. 
I wish you all Peace and Strength in the days to come and the weeks to follow.
When the hurting is done the pain will fade but the emotions roll on.

 
Life is not fair but our hour is marked.
For each of us death deals a card.
Be brave and be strong. 
For those who have died we must remain strong.

Funerals can be funny too

Published October 21, 2013 by Kappaloca

Last weekend I had to dash down to my Birth Town to attend the Funeral of a Family Member.

As with all funerals it was a sombre affair and quite thought provoking too.

Firstly my father who has been poorly and sick for almost two years was there as well. My father has emphysema and collapsed lungs from a car accident early this year. He got there late and my sister had to pull her car up very close to the Vestry door so he did not have too far to walk. I helped him out and sat him down on the first bench right in the back, but there was a reason for doing so. He needs to be on oxygen full time and has to cart his mobile machine with him wherever he goes. My dad being a man who always thinks forward an further than the average person adapted his machine , extended the pipes so he can almost walk through his entire apartment without having to move the actual machine. As the bench could only take 3 people my sisters sat down on either side of my Dad and I walked down the Isle and sat down closer to the Close Family. This all happened on Tip toe as the service had already started 10 minutes ago. They were late because they got stuck in traffic on the highway. I had just sat down and asserted my attention on the sermon when my dad tapped me on the shoulder and loudly said: “Move up!”  He had unrolled the oxygen tube to it full length and walked down the isle so he could sit next to me. He took my hand and still loudly said: “That’s better” He had difficulty breathing and had to take deep breaths to calm himself but sit next to me he did. We only get to see each other once a year or so and in the last two years this was only the fourth time we could be near each other. It meant the world to him to have me there as well. This was the second funeral for our Family in 9 months. My uncle passed in January and now his wife so soon after.

Funerals have a way of bringing Family together. Sometimes I wonder if it is really a show of respect or just a chance of seeing far away family that gets us to go. 

As the service was about to come to a close the pastor gave a few minutes for Family members or friends to say a few words and without hesitation my father leapt up and started walking forward. Unfortunately the oxygen pipe was to short to go all the way to the front with him, so he just yanked it off and said: “Bugger this !!” My sisters tried to object but I got up and went to support him. He took a deep breath and started telling the story of the Tupperware Bowl.

Many many years back we went to visit my Uncle and Aunt for supper. They had made curry and my uncle was well known for the Hot hot curries he made. After supper was done my father asked if he could have an extra bit to take home, so she obliged by dishing it into a Tupperware bowl and made him promise to bring the bowl back. From there on every time she saw him she asked him for it but there was always an excuse. It never did get returned, although he still has it. One of my fathers excuses was that it’s not clean yet. See the curry was so hot and Spicy that it had stained the Tupperware Bowl and getting it clean was never an easy task. For years they teased each other about the bowl. He never gave it back and now he will never have the opportunity to do so.

And so my father concluded: In Life we all get stained, It does not matter how much we scrub and clean, some get hurt and some get lucky, some get sick but get to live long. Others live well but die quick.  It’s how you tackle those stains and how you look after each other that matters. Never seize a moment to tell each other that they matter. Don’t put off what you want to do today, as tomorrow might never come.

We could see that my Dad was having difficulty in keeping it together so my Sister and myself took him by the arms and had to hold him up and get him over to his Oxygen Pipe quickly. He sat down and breathed and breathed heavily, but was satisfied that he had had his say.

The service was concluded and the family thanked for being there to pay their respect. We moved into the next door hall where coffee and tea was served and my Niece whom I had not seen in almost 15 years walked over to my Dad and loudly and forgetting where she was said: “Uncle Albert, You are my favourite uncle in the whole wide world but if you do that again I will kick your ass!!” (She meant the taking off of his oxygen) The hall erupted in laughter. Even the pastor chuckled.

RIP – Yvonne

 

Beating the drum

Published September 12, 2013 by Kappaloca

I sometimes feel like I don’t need to tell a soul, but then who am I giving the pleasure of my silence? Who is the winner?

This is not really about winning or losing anyway. It’s a case of Survival and how I survived. How I rose up and stood tall against you, My Abuser.

With each passing day it gets easier to forgive but the Forget is just so impossible. There are faded parts, like over-worn Jeans or those precision bleached ones the kids like to wear.

I find that there are days that I don’t think about it at all and then other days a small little thing will trigger a Memory and just run wild in my mind all day long.

If you were ever in an Abusive relationship I think I speak for each one of us when I say that you play this next scenario out over and over in your head:

It’s Friday! 

You know he is going to either come home and pick a fight so he can jump in his car and leave or he just does not come home at all.

Every minute that passes puts you more and more on edge. You start pacing, making sure everything is neat, clean, in it’s place.

You keep yourself in your finest clothing and your Make-up immaculate, although you would much rather be in your pj’s and in bed.

You hide things that can be used against you. (Knifes, Hand axe (My abusers favourite) Books, Ashtrays, Broom, Empty Bottles.)

You start thinking of ways to calm him or greet him so as to not set him off or over the edge.

You play out your words, careful of what you can and what you cannot say.

You keep the television sound way down in order to hear the car approach.  ( I found that we tend to develop extra sensory hearing when in such relationships, you know the sound of your own car a mile off)

You keep the lights to a minimum.

You repetitively warm the food just a little at a time, or keep the kettle boiled in the hope he will walk in and ask for Coffee or Tea.

You keep a door unlocked to give you an instant escape route and always make sure you have the keys in your pocket.

a Small bag with an extra set of clothing and some money is kept hidden away outside the house in case you need to flee or spend the night outside. (This happened often)

Finally after hours and in a state of shear terror you hear the car coming down the road and can judge the frame of mind of the driver by the roar of the engine. It’s like a pre warning. You jump, your heart starts racing and your mouth is instantly dry. You run to put the kettle on and get some lights on in the house. You switch the Tv over to a sports channel or something you hope will grab his attention. You feign a smile when he enters the door and one of two things will happen. You will either get a sheepish grin back or you will get greeted by a face of a doom.

The sheepish grin is acceptable and the rest of the evening will probably end well. (Rare as diamonds on the pavement)

Its that Gloomy Thunder Face that is the scarier of the two.

What are you looking at?

What the F@#* do you want?

Who are you all dolled up for?

Where were you? (They make them self believe YOU went out and had a ball)

Who was here with you?

What have you done al day long? The house looks like shit!

You do your best to stay non complacent and not show hostility. You try and keep a straight face. They seem to see things and read things on your face only they can.

You offer the food or drinks option. Carefully ……….

If the food offer is accepted and you start warming it up, you still clamp your lips and sort of hold your breath as whatever you say next or not say next can cause an eruption.

Most times when he gets in in a foul mood the food will never be acceptable. It’s always crap. The dogs wont even want to eat it,  yet they still pick up that first fork full and eat. Mostly there will not even be  need for a fork as the hands will do the job.  You keep yourself busy by wiping counters that need no cleaning or making yourself coffee. Then halfway through the plate of food it’s either side swiped off the table or thrown straight at you. No reason. No provocation,

All you can do is brace yourself for the impact and cover your face.  Shouting, screaming out or asking why will infuriate him and start a full on war.

You know you have to clean it up and pick up the pieces. you have to get out that broom you so carefully hid away out of fear that it might be used on you. He gets up and pushes the chair over. He screams at you and tells you it’s your fault for making him mad. You irritate him. He wishes you would just fuck off or die. you make his life miserable.

He laughs at your attempts to clean up the floor and tells you that  the position you are in on your knees is the position he will keep you in.  You waste his money. You’re a whore. You’re good for nothing. Your an unfit mother.

Oh ok so know he has realised that he had used the word “mother” somewhere in his tantrum and asks me where his kids are.

He wants to know whether I even remembered to feed them the same shit he has just had to eat. He tells me I am poisoning his kids. He wants to know if I even thought of bathing them. Tells me I am a lousy mother, unfit!

A slap to the side of my face stings like a bitch and sends me reeling backwards. I gasp for breath and put my hand up to my face to touch the burning red hot ember spreading over my face. I dare not show emotion or even think of letting a tear show. THAT would certainly send him straight over the edge. I will regret the next blow. I slowly walk away.

As the words starts escalating from his mouth I keep my silence and as calmly as possible try and ward off the anger building up inside me. He storms off and leaves me standing there wishing I could just end it all. Just one swipe. Just one punch, just the guts to go. The guts to phone the police, but I know it’s all futile and in any case if he does get locked up and his company finds out he will be fired immediately and we will lose all benefits.

And in any case tomorrow is Saturday and the day will bring its own new challenges. the children have no idea of what happened after they went to sleep last night. They just know that Daddy is home now and it’s Saturday morning and he is spending it with them.

He just walks past me as if last night never happened. The shattered pieces are wrapped in old newspaper and thrown out.

I suppose I should wrap up yesterday and put it out with the trash too.

PS: My wish for each  person who has had to endure ABUSE of any kind: Stand up, Speak out! Let your voice be heard. If by telling it like it is can help only one other person, we can help heal each other one person at a time.

By beating them at their own game, we can start BEATING THE DRUM.

I’m Dead, Don’t Ping me!

Published September 2, 2013 by Kappaloca

It’s been more than two years since you passed, and I still from time to time see people sending you messages or commenting on your Wall on Facebook. 

It often makes me wonder what would happen and how big Facebook would really be if they took away all the Dead people and double identities and doubled -up accounts. People forget their passwords and just open up a new one and invite their friends again. People die and just never thought about what it would mean to those left behind.

But what really happens after you die? No one has your Password so the account cannot be closed. Facebook and it’s creators don’t have an expiry date for unused accounts. Worst is no one can let them know that you are dead and they need to take it off.

I don’t want this to happen to me so I keep a record of all Social Media Pages and accounts I created, including Word Press and their passwords in a safe place like my Bible and have written it down inside a Thank You card addressed to my family and children, so that they would Find it and close it at my request. I don’t need to remind anyone of where I went and what I did in my life here on earth for much longer then and even sending me a message telling me I am missed makes no Sense anyway.

 

There are so many groups and pages created in the name of people deceased. In Memory of …….. I have no objection to that and maybe it’s a good way for people to grieve, But then after a year or two, nothing happens on those pages anyway. Of Course they are never forgotten, but they are Gone. They cannot and will not come back. They will never read the messages or see them, cannot answer them. 

We all go through a process of Grief and that’s good, but after a while …. Please keep me in mind but not in the Public eye. Take me off and pack me away. Download what you need and delete the rest. I am not a Google statistic any more.

Most of the written Blogs I have done is for my children to find and read after I have left this earth and I have made sure they will find it. I am giving them something to look forward to finding and reading, so they can know how I felt and what I was thinking whilst they were either working, going to school, growing up or just carrying on with life. Little reminders of what they did and how they made me feel. Memories for them to know that I cared and Loved them. My gift to them. I know there are many others that do the same, but have you thought of how they will find what you left them?

I know it’s not easy trusting anyone with Passwords but surely you can think of something creative? For me it works to just leave it in my Bible. Even thieves seem to have a hard time looking inside a bible when they ransack your house. I wonder if they are scared of what God might do? He may just show them the Way don’t you think? Well I hope so anyway.

Oh and another thing When I am gone so is my Mobile Phone….I’m Dead so dont Ping Me!

Thanks for Loving me through all the years. Now It’s time to make your Memories and enjoy your Life. 

Picking up the pieces

Published August 29, 2013 by Kappaloca

I need to Pick up the pieces. The pieces of my Life that has fallen through the cracks.

I find myself looking at you and to this day I wonder what had made you change. What had happened for you to turn yourself around. I have asked you but you change the subject immediately. Will you tell me some day?

I suppose everybody deserves a second chance.

My heart leans heavy on the memories and although it has taken years to get to the line of Forgiveness it’s the Forget part that just won’t heal.

I wrote it all down, I vowed to never throw it away. I need to get it out and I need to type it out as I am done screaming it out in my mind.

Maybe by doing so I can rid myself of some of the anger.  The anger I will always carry inside. The anger of all the years I had lost. Lost because of you. Because I still blame myself for allowing you to abuse me. Verbal, Mental and Physical Abuse by your hands, your tongue and your actions.

For Years I tolerated and waited for you to fall and feel the pain, see my pain, feel my anger, but I stayed and endured some more. There were times that I wished you dead. Times were I had hoped and waited for a call to say you had died in a crash, but it never came. (Thankfully) In all this time I had so many times begged you to get help. I begged you to come back from the Abyss of Alcohol and the demons it evoked in you. I knew the real you were in there somewhere. You were the person I loved and married. The man I intended on spending the rest of my life with, have a Family with, but you chose to believe that you were perfect. You believed that you were normal and that I was mental.

When our son died I lost you completely. You spiralled out of Control and refused any form of help. You pushed me aside and left me to deal with my sorrow and heartache all by myself. I had to be strong for me and our daughter. I could not afford to lose my grip on life and become depressed. I needed you. Needed you to touch me, to hold me and comfort me, but all I got was silence and denial. You denied that your child had died. You kept him alive in your mind. Tortured me by talking to him. Tortured me by playing all his favourite music as loud as possible and getting drunk and then throwing tantrums in the dead of night. I was not allowed to sleep during these fits of fury (not that I could anyway)

I left so many times, I started divorce proceedings against you so many times and you kept making me weak by believing it will change. You would change. You would make it better.

After years of torment you have finally figured it out.  It took me leaving you AGAIN and showing you that I would not compromise and come back unless YOU made peace with yourself and healed YOU. It took a full year and a half of being separated from your children and me.

For the last 3 years we are finally able to live our lives as we should have. It’s been a pleasure to be “Home” .  You now cannot do enough for me. Don’t want to go anywhere without me.  I am so grateful for all the  little things you do and I know that you do more than your body can take, but ………

How do I rid myself from all my wounds and demons and heal myself? How do I pick up the pieces?

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