I don't know why you did what you did

does it hurt for you, still

like it hurts for us

left to mourn

and grieve

and wail

and scream?

or ...

in several instances of

carefully planning your death

did you cast out your pain

onto the living?

i don't know

why you did what you did.

distance provides me reprieve

alienated. by the dysfunctional dynamic that threatened to shatter my sanity into one million little pieces. the revolving door of hospital admission continues for my dad. i really think my mum needs placement. if she does not get placed, my father will die in her service.

Some Things on My Mind

What is religion? Is it really the only conduit to God and his light? What is prayer? Is it really an event? An activity? Or is it a state of mind? A way of being? Contemplation? Why do so many think of prayer as a call-in show with God, where He's at the other end, listening, taking notes, and moving the pieces on his giant chess board appropriately? From where does suffering emanate? How can we blame God for the state of things when we have this thing called free will? How can we surrender the surrender of forgiveness?


What we need is to love without exhausting ourselves. How does a lamp burn? By the consumption of steadily dripping drops of oil. What are the drops of oil in our own lamps? The little things in daily life: faithfulness, a friendly word, a kind thought for others . . . Do not search for Jesus far from you. He is not somewhere else. He is in you. Keep your lamp burning and you will recognize Him.

~Mother Teresa, No Greater Love


Love is the eye with which we see God; love itself is understanding. But love is not to be confused with mere feelings. Feelings burn out too easily; they can be manipulated or seduced. The love by which we see God must be an act of the will rather than a passing affection of the heart.

~William of St. Thierry


"I once picked up a woman from a garbage dump and she was burning with fever; she was in her last days and her only lament was: ‘My son did this to me.’ I begged her: You must forgive your son. In a moment of madness, when he was not himself, he did a thing he regrets. Be a mother to him, forgive him. It took me a long time to make her say: ‘I forgive my son.’ Just before she died in my arms, she was able to say that with a real forgiveness. She was not concerned that she was dying. The breaking of the heart was that her son did not want her. This is something you and I can understand."

~Mother Theresa


The more you have, the more you are occupied, the less you give. But the less you have the more free you are. Poverty for us is a freedom. It is not mortification, a penance. It is joyful freedom. There is no television here, no this, no that. But we are perfectly happy.


When a poor person dies of hunger, it has not happened because God did not take care of him or her. It has happened because neither you nor I wanted to give that person what he or she needed.


You and I, we are the Church, no? We have to share with our people. Suffering today is because people are hoarding, not giving, not sharing. Jesus made it very clear. Whatever you do to the least of my brethren, you do it to me. Give a glass of water, you give it to me. Receive a little child, you receive me.


Everybody today seems to be in such a terrible rush, anxious for greater developments and greater riches and so on, so that children have very little time for their parents. Parents have very little time for each other, and in the home begins the disruption of peace of the world.


If we really want to love we must learn how to forgive.

~Mother Theresa

back in the hospital

He finds it disorienting. He forgets he is in the hospital. He wanders the halls, sometimes, looking for me. It breaks my heart to leave him. I want to remain by his side ... for all time. Living just gets in the way ... of duty.

complication: hematoma

i just occurred to me. 72 years old. that's not far from 80. he's frail. so frail. it scares me. the complications continue. now ... on top of the inflammation from the arthritis, he's got a hematoma in his soleus muscle. try to treat the inflammation with blood-thinning anti-inflammatories and we get ourselves a nasty, very painful hematoma. it hurts him a great deal. and that hurts me.

my heart breaks.

enraged & grieving

enraged ~ by the actions and words of some calculating, manipulative and controlling external family members. grieving ~ for the strong, sturdy man that has gone ... and the frail, weakened man who takes his place. alone ~ missing very much my husband. when god created me, he meant me to exist as a partner to another ... not to trudge through the trials of life alone. alone. alone. the tenuous routine i had developed to try to preserve my frail sanity, well that routine has failed under the pressures that impinge upon me here. i once have treaded very close to the sanity precipice in recent days ... the grace of a guardian angel pulls me back from that furious edge. i am tired. duty drives me ... some days provides me with the only reason to crawl from my bed. tomorrow the sun will rise, though. and a new day will dawn for me. along with a new realm of possibilities. and so it goes. tomorrow ~ feast of the epiphany. for me, these days ... each days seems an epiphany.

getting out

we got out today. first time in weeks we got out just for the sake of getting out. nice. really nice. we had dinner at Smitty's Restaurant. Just the three of us. My brother taxi'd us around between his taxing other people. i continue to struggle with the dysfunctional dynamic which operates in mummy's family. it enrages me. and then it messes me up. wulf thinks i should return to him and dedicate myself to my life with him, but he understands why i stay, does not begrudge me, and will follow if that's what i truly want. i feel so much anger at so many things. and grief ... silent, still grief. at what deteriorates right before my eyes. i feel so spent and tired. i feel more acquainted with myself. i feel the writing muse stirring ... stirring.