Judy

My Mom is in the Hospital, since Monday. Not looking good at all.

She's a wonderful person, and I love her dearly.

Go gently, lady. Fare well.

Alysia's Moving

Hey there.

I've started a blog for all things Leeshie over here.

Eventually, that's where most things Alysia will go. Probably some Sean as well.

Stay well,

Yogi

                  Beloved Alysia
                 6/13/89-4/29/10

              Daughter and Friend

Not Yet

They tell me that there will be a time when missing you
is not like a burning in my chest.

That there will be a moment when life seems normal again,
and some day I will remember you more as a photograph than a memory.

I'm told that life will be fun, the shadow will lift, the strange feelings of lack will pass.

I know we'll meet somewhere.

That your laugh and quick smile will once again light my day like a lightbulb.

I'll feel your presence behind me, a quick tap on my shoulder to ask "What'cha doin', Dad?"

And your voice will lift my heart again.

But not yet.

How long must I wait?

Ashes to Ashes

We are struck by the sense of finality.

There are more things yet to be done, but this is the end of one arc.

A lifetime in 20 years, now reduced to memories on a table-top.

Mementi Mori.

From dust you came and to dust you are returned...

Would that you were, indeed, the phoenix.

Grief

Sometimes, it creeps up on me, starting with just a little thought in the back of my mind, like a loose thread on my sweater catches my eye and I brush at it. But it doesn't go away, and without thinking, I pick it up and pull and now I have a mass of yarn, and a hole in my heart.

Sometimes, I am caught by an unexpected encounter, and the grief rises within to choke me.

Sometimes, it comes from nowhere, just taking over, washing over me like the heat from an open oven, leaving me burnt and hurting.

In the early morning, drifting in and out of sleep, good memories mingle with pain. It isn't long before I'm driven from my bed. But where do I go?

During the day, there are endless tripwires of familiar items, moments of recognition which used to be moments of joy and anticipation,  now pitfalls to be avoided, lest the grief incapacitate me in a sudden rush. How can I move from my chair, knowing that this is there? How can I sit, knowing it will come anyway?

In the evening, all my routines invoke memories. Can I face them one more time?

At night,  I know the memories and the grief will find me. Who wants to go to bed when this waits for you?

How can I love the ones I love, knowing that they are not the one I loved? This is the most unfair thing.

My ability to love freely is gone. It is now guarded, fenced in, fearful. I am afraid much of the time.

Sometimes it feels like my skin will burst from the pain. Medication, drugs, alcohol all wear off, leaving me feeling worse than before, yet wishing again for the brief respite they brought. But the increased pain warns me off, and I am left without outside defense against my grief. 

I will not go through the rest of my life numb and chemically diminished. But I don't think I will ever again be who I was.

Seasons of Love

To my dearest daughter.

What's the measure of a life?

Alysia Danielle Delgado-Parmley Beaty

June 13, 1989 - April 29, 2010

Rest in Peace

10,979,337 minutes

20 years, 10 months, 15 days

a little sister, a big brother

2 parents

a beloved partner

friends

a puppy and a cat

a guitar or 2

rockband genius

a smile from ear to ear

tattoos

more friends

memories left behind

touches on the heart of all who knew her