Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Remembering Jeremy

There are some dates in our lives that will be forever marked "special". Tomorrow is one of those days.

Not just because it's Thanksgiving, but because it would have been my son's 27th birthday if he were still alive.

It's hard for me to believe that it's been five years since we spent Jeremy's 22nd birthday with him, which was also on Thanksgiving Day that year. It was on Saturday that my husband and I took Jeremy to report to his Army Reserves Unit to report for active duty. He was in the 961st Quartermasters.

One of Jeremy's friends from the 961st called me today. It made me feel so good to know that he still thinks about and misses his friend. Thank you, Mario, for your phone call. You cannot know how good you made me feel.

Yes, I am sad, but I think the sadness has been replaced by a sense of being grateful for the time I had to be Jeremy's Mom. I will always remember the moment of his birth and his big, beautiful eyes looking up at me. I will forever remember his first words and his adorable baby face. The sound of Jeremy's voice is burned into my heart -- especially the way he said "Hello, Mother" when he called me.

So, this Thanksgiving Day, I give thanks for Jeremy and his life.

I give thanks for my beautiful, amazing daughters that I get to spend the day with.

I give thanks for the gift of my grandson, Aiden, who is my joy.

And I give thanks for Maxx, my husband, partner, lover, best friend and confidant without whom I would not have been able to live through so much heartache and sorrow.

I am truly blessed.

Oh, and Jeremy, I feel you. I know you are looking over my shoulder. And I love you with all my heart, always and forever.

Monday, August 25, 2008

The In-Between Time

It happened right when Maxx left for work this morning. It was that in-between time when it's neither night or day, when the light starts to reach my part of the world, but the sun has shown above the horizon...

I stepped outside with my coffee to greet the morning, and in that light, the growing things in my yard seemed so much more green than usual, giving off a luminescent glow, almost.

It was that magickal time, where we stand at a doorway between the worlds, between time. And I gave quiet thanks with a grateful heart that I was allowed, on this morning, to see the beauty around me before my neighborhood fully awakened.

A wise teacher once told me: "All things are perfect in their own time." I'll try to remember that.


Thursday, May 15, 2008

Mom's Lesson

Photo by Andrew Stern
When I carried my unborn children within my womb
I was full of hopes and dreams and wonder…
I wondered at the life we had created, growing within me
And the first seeds of love were planted when I learned of that life.

I wondered what this little one would do with his or her life
What kind of person he or she would be.
I wondered if this precious soul would achieve the dreams,
The hopes, the aspirations of its heart and dearly hoped it would be so.

I walked in the Valley of life and death
To bring the unborn through the birth canal to be born;
Flooded with relief at the first cry,
The long hours of pain and fear quickly forgotten.

As my children grew, I felt great joy in their first smiles, the first steps
I could kiss away the tears and the sores and the heartaches.
When they were little, my children thought I could fix anything
A toy, a scratch, a spill – no problem!

I did my best to protect my children from all that would bring them harm,
And from the bogeyman under the bed and in the closet or around the corner.
I did my best to teach them to protect themselves and to be kind to others.

Eventually all children grow up and become adults.
They make their own decisions and all I can do is watch
And hope and pray they will be the right decisions
And that they will not bring themselves undue harm.

I want to help them; I want to fix what they have done,
Sometimes I cannot. Sometimes I should not.
This I have learned. And maybe, as a Mother, this is my greatest lesson.
But still…

I cry, I weep, I sorrow when they fall and hope and pray they will get back up.
I hope… I pray… I love them unconditionally
Sometimes, that is all I can do
I can’t make everything better. Sometimes they have to do it themselves.

by Amy Branham
May 16, 2008

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Who Cares?

Honestly, folks, aren't you sick and tired of hearing about what baseball players have used steroids and which ones haven't? I mean, really, don't we have more important things to worry about? And, more importantly, does't our Congress have more important things to investigate? Like, oh I don't know, the lies of Bush & Co. told to take us into war? The possibility that our President has committed treason while holding the highest office in the land?

I'm just sick and disgusted with our do-nothing Congress! They cave into the President's wishes time after time and give the spoiled brat what he wants even though the People are telling them not to. I can't help but wonder what the hell is going on and why they are doing this. Is someone paying them off that we don't know about?

They promised they would end the war, but they haven't done that. They promised they would take better care of our vets when they came home from the war, but that isn't happening either.

I'm irritated and downright angry that they are giving the telecom companies retroactive immunity for spying on American citizens illegally. Years ago I thought, well go ahead and spy on me. I'm doing nothing wrong. Now, even though I'm not breaking any laws whatsoever, it irritates me that, because I disagree with my government, they might and probably have, listen to my phone calls and read my emails (and I do have reason to believe this has occurred). This is an invasion of my privacy, plain and simple.

There are lots and lots of other things that are just getting under my skin right now, but I can't think straight, can't get my brain to shut down and I can't get my fingers to cooperate with my brain. Such a cunundrum...

Guess I'm just irritated today. Four years ago on this day was the worst day of my life -- or the second worst, I'm can't really decide. I learned my son was dead. It's pretty hard to try and have a positive outlook on this day. I just feel rotten...


Monday, February 11, 2008

I Miss You...

A song written by Tom Chelston, whom I have come to know and associate with from time to time... Thanks, Tom.

Posted in loving memory of my son, Sgt. Jeremy R. Smith, who died four years ago this week in a car accident before he was to leave to go to Iraq with his Army unit.

I love you, Bud. I miss you.

And I'll never forget...

Love forever,