Arranging Memories

I reaaranged my son's shelves today and found myself smiling away.
You see, a mother is happiest when for her child's entrance she makes way.
My son will never be admired by strangers on the street
but he certainly has touched the lives of those his mother meets.

He has a few blankets; each one with their own story.
He has a bracelet rosary and a newborn one that's holy.
He has two memory boxes made with love that are painted by hand.
"Why do you keep them?" is the question asked by those not blessed enough to understand.

He never needed the prayer books or the pins for other angels.
He had no need for the poems written by perfectly angelic strangers.
You see, his needs were already met on that fateful day.
God took him home and made sure he was safe and out of harm's way.

But each little memento validates that he was here.
He was alive and he mattered! There's a reason for my tears.
So as I fixed his little things and remembered holding him close,
I realized that I was lucky it was Marshall that God chose.

We always find a little token on our family trips...a little charm;
a blue bunny, some soft toys; buying them does no harm.
They let my husband and I know that we did in fact have a son
and one day we'll see him sitting in the lap of the Blessed Son.

Twisted Turn of Events

I can’t really tell anyone how my life has changed…
Mom died and my father’s personality was rearranged.
I can’t imagine the pain of losing your partner of 35 years
but his actions have caused me more than my fair share of tears.

I used to be his little girl and I could do no wrong.
But now he doesn’t even smile at me… in this family I don’t belong.
He yells at me and snarls and growls and I just don’t understand
why I’ll never feel a parent’s gentle and loving hands.

I don’t keep house like my Mom...I work outside my home.
I wake up at 5 and have three kids to dress and feed and comb.
I work all day and come home to finish their daily lessons and chores…
because of my students I come home battered and more than a little sore.

I don’t cow tow to his wishes and demands because I just don’t see the need.
I have my own life and family to care for. But his hatred brings me to my knees.
My children see it every day and beg him not to use the “I hate Heather” voice…
we need to leave...but I promised Mom so now I have no choice.

It makes me sad to think that one day he held me tight
and would sing to us each day his choral “Good night”.
Maybe when I see him with my dear Mother again
he’ll understand that my heart also needs to mend.

And so, I wake up everyday and dread the other side of the door
because I know the night’s end brings yet another day more.
So if I seek male approval do not be surprised or shocked.
It’s because from my father’s heart I am forever blocked and locked.

Why I love him

There are things my husband can do that none other dare...
he listens to me, and rather than pretend...he actually cares.
The only time he broke my heart was because he thought it best;
he wanted me to reach my goals and didn't know I needed to rest.

He tries to understand my need to be friends with those from my past
even if he gets upset that they might have inflicted pain that did last.
He's glad that I have reconnected with the island part of me
even if it means an adjustment to the way things used to be.

He wouldn't understand what I've done and why it had nothing to do with him
so I have to deal with this crap and around him...hold it in.
I want to share with my best friend that I've lost another friend
but he'd try to tell me those bridges I could mend.

She Opens Up Her Eyes

She opens up her eyes and smiles - this littlest girl of mine.
You see the possibilities as the sun wakes up her mind.
"Good morning, Mommy" are the first words of each and every day
and I think everyone would rock if every day started this way.

Good Bye

I knew that it would end but I never imagined it this way.
I didn’t think that your words would bring such utter pain.
But here I sit, trying to figure out how to make a friendship work
when I want to package all this up and give you back the hurt.

I will never understand how men can think the way they do…
no matter what happened I thought that feelings were true.
But apparently they weren’t because it seemed too easy for you…
I know it was only easy because there is someone new.

It sucks to know I’m not needed, or wanted, for that matter
and then to know that you didn’t think my heart would shatter.
I suppose it’s all my fault for thinking my heart you would guard…
but that’s my job..and I failed..it was way too hard.

So I am doing what I know best to do
I’ll bow out and bid you a very fond “see you”.
Just remember you are meant for far greater things
and I hope that you know fondly of you I’ll think.

TTCAL

Sex after a loss is the most complex issue we have faced;
of course there's built in pleasure, but there's a task that must take place.
No pressure, of course, but are there two pink lines?
Are we going to have a new babe when the months number nine?

There's pleasure in the act when no ovulating occurs...
making love is so much fun...not a chore to endure.
But when that egg is going to drop the pressure is on!
Time it right and the prize is a cycle that is gone!!

Then there are those that feel you are trying to replace!
But really, that's not possible; to suggest so is a disgrace.
An empty belly longs to be filled; empty arms crave a baby...
Did we do it this month? Well...maybe.

On a mission

I'm going on a mission and I don't know when it will end
but I know my frazzled brain and broken heart I must mend.
I feel like a teenager who's had her heart broken;
it's been handed to me as if it's a mere token.

So, I'm gonna spend some time writing up a storm
and maybe that sense of peace will become my norm.
I've lost a great friend and I don't know if he'll come back;
my son is gone, so is my Mom and I feel under attack.

So, it's time to heal this broken soul and put it back together
and hopefully when I come back to my family it will be tethered.
I'll pop on in and say hello and greet my dearest friends
and one day I'll be back when my alienation has ended.

I'll be popping in here and writing...a lot. If you care to leave a comment, please do. They mean the world to me.

Honesty

How honest are you in your day to day life?
Do you paint a smile on or do you share your strife?
What do you think of those that are willing to share?
Really, most just want someone to relate or care.

Do you take the time to listen to a friend in need?
Would you stop to help their soul when it bleeds?
When you tell someone you care, is it for that moment?
Or do you take their problems with you and for them lament?

Perhaps that's why I can only handle so many friends at a time.
I take their issues with me and almost turn them into mine.
I have faith that my friends feel the same, but that faith is fading.
Marshall's been gone for less than three months, but by my side, few are waiting.

Maybe I need to stop caring and become heartless and myred in my own gruel.
But that would make me like them, and I am not that cruel.
So, I'll continue to write and take my angst out in words
become sometimes I just don't understand the people in this world.

Summer

This has been the hardest to write ... a poem about my Summer.
She's my first born daughter and there can be no doubt I love her.
Her story is only 8 years long now but already it's fuller than most.
She's beautiful inside and out and we really don't mind it...we'll boast!!

I remember the day we found out she was coming into this world.
The tech said "She's all girl" and I looked at Joe and he almost hurled!!
It's a girl! Daddy's little girl! She was coming in September!
This was really going to be a day that everyone would remember!
(She was due on Labor Day...'nuff said).

Her birth was average...15 hours of relaxing and then pushing.
But when she was born the doctors and nurses lookes oh, so white and ashen.
She was rushed to NICU where she stayed until she was diagnosed.
Her heart was broken..it'd need repairs...her holes would have to be closed.

December 12, 1999. Imagine if you will...a family of three gathered together
and saying goodbye to each other.
Joe and I held our baby and cried until we were sick...
tomorrow she'd go in for her surgery and we hoped her heart would still tick.
(Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On" was our song and to her we sang.
We told her it was ok to let go. We would be the ones to hang on).

She made it through open heart surgery and for days she would lie
we were afraid to hurt her more; the tubes made it hard for her to cry.
Alone in that room with machines beeping, I looked at my dearest one.
And I promised her the moon and the stars if she would just hang on.

Flash forward a few years: This baby had grown up and she was Grammy's little pal!
Grammy took her everywhere and Mom knew she was quite a gal.
To this day there's something about her that reminds me of my Mother.
She can only be compared to her; to me there are none other.

Summer's 8 years old now and she's a pretty young lady...
hair of gold and legs that go on forever...but she'll always be my baby.
She's mostly a great big sister and a pretty good daughter;
I wonder what life holds for here on after?

Where's the Joy?

Why is it that my poems have a darker tone?
It's not like I am miserable and feel always all alone!
Why can't I write about things that make me smile?
I know my life's not always so vile.

The truth is that right now I just can't see
that life isn't always the way it seems to be.
One day the sun will shine again!
It does everytime Reagan gives a grin.

I have to hold on to moments like those
because I just can't see past the end of my nose.
When I'm alone with a pen and paper all else fades
and the pain I finally evade.

Consequences of Grief

Things have changed since that day Mom left
and I am waiting for the wave of change to crest.
Just when I think we've reached the top
the undertow pulls and again...it just won't stop.

I used to be his little girl -- the one with freckles and all the curls.
Now he looks at me with disgust; his lips in a permanent snarl.
It's not just me; others see it too. It doesn't matter what I do.
I work full time, care for three kids, and mourn the fourth...my life is a zoo.

Mom used to be the buffer and back him off of me
but now she's not here and his wrath is directed at me.
It really hurts at times and I feel the ultimate rejection;
let's face it...I just don't have a familial connection.

My sisters tried to TELL me what and how to feel those days
like I didn't know Mom better than they did..I was there in ALL ways.
So that didn't help; then they rejected my little boy
and now they want to make merry and pretend to have family joy?

You just can't understand until this happens to you.
Look in the mirror and realize no blood loves you.
You question your looks, your actions, your speech
and then realize these aren't lessons you want to teach.

So, I have to rebuild and become someone new.
Heather has died; I just don't know what to do.
I'm tired of feeling sad.

Grief

Quietly
quickly
consuming
rising
agonizing
monopolizing
My soul retreats.

God's Hand Touches
Friends Respond
Dreams Come...
then

My soul emerges.
Rationalizing
forgiving
inspiring
desiring

A sudden trigger:
pregnant belly
mother/daughter
baby boy clothes
his urn calls
and it begins again.

Ditto

It started off as a joke after our first real date,
and here it is 16 years later and it can STILL aggravate.
The word "Ditto" is a cop out that turned into something else...
in fact it means something much more intense.

It knocks the breath from my chest when I hear your voice
and then you say the one word that makes all else turn to noise.
It doesn't mean I luv you or even that you're liked.
It means that our feelings will last throughout our entire life.

Ummm...I have no title for this one

My emotions define me; I wear them on my sleeve.
And sometimes they cause wonderful people to leave.
But that's ok because it's who I am
and in the end I am part of God's Master Plan.

Distance and Time

It's amazing to think that I love so many who are far away...
it's a metaphor for my life; I like to keep people at bay.
But I think I have had enough of being all alone.
Sometimes a girl needs more to hold that just a telephone.

My family and I have gone through hell and back.
First the storms, then my Mom, and now, Marshall's gone.
Summer's heart needed repairs, and Emma's brain is funky.
I just thought not having me as a friend would make everyone lucky.

Now I have reached the point where I see the gifts I have.
I really think I have a lot to share -- both tears and laughs.
But I no longer want to change who I am to be accepted.
Take me or leave me; I don't care. True friends wouldn't reject me.

I want to go to Puerto Rico and experience all its joys
and see where I grew up and played with bikes and my toys.
Virginia is for lovers; but it's also the home to friends
and I really want to see them and let those friendships mend.

Then there's Miami, home to one of the dearest women I know.
We grew up so close to each other; seeing her would be like going home.
Ultimately I'd like to end up in New York City
where I'll learn about the neighborhoods and visit his kitties.

Yes, I think I am through keeping life an arm's length away.
It's time to start enjoying life and taking the time to play.
So I'll start building my list and visit my dearest friends
because it's time for my soul to heal and attention to myself lend.

My First Love

I'd like to share a story with those that don't know this part of me.
It's about my first love and how it came to be.
It started out as a car chase and ended up in a parking lot
and we dared them to show up the next day; they called our meager bluff.

The moment that I saw him I felt an instant electric shock
and it happened again the second our eyes locked.
I remember what he was wearing and the sound of his nervous laugh.
The smell of that cologne will instantly take me back!

We really didn't think they'd show, but much to our dismay
they were inside and waiting on us on that cold February day.
We drove to the beach and along the way my friend said to me
"You're already lost in his eyes". I said "Maybe. We'll see".

Needless to say she was right and I was instantly hooked!
My lips were sore and my body ached for this man I adored.
Then one day his orders came and the relationship was over.
My heart was broken and it'd take years to heal the wound over.

A few years later we met up and together became one.
There are no regrets that we did; our time had finally come.
I remember those times with fondness and I thank God above
that he sent me a wonderful gentleman to be my first love.

Please Watch This...

I am not one for passing along stuff, but you know what? This needs to be said.

http://s259.photobucket.com/albums/hh289/Impish_Dragon/?action=view&current=Untitled.flv

Gatlinburg

I'll never forget seeing your face on the other side of the door.
You were close enough to touch (we did that and more).
I didn't want to ever forget the way you felt and smelled
because one day again we'd part; but for now our bodies did meld.

So many years of waiting were coming to a head
and it culminated in several hours cuddled in that hotel bed.
I didn't want it all to end but I knew eventually it would
and we parted; even now it hurts more than it should.



Sixteen years. Sixteen years of us. Wow. Well, here's to the next 16.

The Puzzle

The pieces of the puzzle are falling into place;
I feel her arms around me like a heavenly embrace.
My friends from my distant past and days gone by
are reunited in one place; I've had to stop and cry.

Each person on that list has a piece of my heart...
now that they are together, I feel like a piece of art.
Mom worked so hard to make sure that I felt complete
and that to my inner despair I did not retreat.

But you have to experience the valleys to enjoy the view from the top.
And now I am ready to climb up there; this pain has to stop.
But I look down below now, and I see each one lined up
and I'll never again be that low; they won't let me get stuck.

Losing my son has shown me that I have a lot to share;
and I can't wait to show what I've learned with friends who care.

Precious Words

I haven't spoken to her in so many years.
But today she touched me and turned on my tears.
This gentle voice from my past spoke to my soul
and helped me realize that indeed I have worth.

"A kind and courageous spirit" are the words she wrote to me.
I was stunned and shocked that that could even be.
She sees that because we were closer than sisters at times
and kindred spirits are inseperable across time and miles.

If only she knew that my insecurities still define me;
but perhaps she already knows that and still accepts me.
What a friend! I know my mom has something to do with this
because those words were divinely inspired when they left her fingertips.

So tonight I'll sleep and thank God for friends that are true.
I'll remember those times when it was just me and you.
We giggled and we laughed, cried and we fought
And now we can have another chance at this golden friendship pot.

I love you, Ileana. I am SO blessed to have you back in my life.

I flunked a test

Many women celebrate when the line doesn't come across;
but all it did was renew the pain of my loss.
I'm not pregnant so that means that glass of wine I'll enjoy
then think sadly about the day I lost my little boy.

It's Late

I'm trying not to say a word or even give it a thought
because I am going to get let down; even more than I ought.
But she's late! She hasn't arrived! She has not shown her face!
I know we didn't but it's nice to think we are keeping her at bay.

When she comes I'll be let down and fool myself into believing
that one days she won't come and an end will come to my grieving.
But while she's not here I'll sit and obsess and daydream
about the day I POAS and get my BFP.

Flaws

Loving someone doesn't mean loving despite flaws.
It means you love them because of flaws -- big and small.
No one is perfect, and some are more willing to admit theirs first
because they are afraid that their image bubble will burst.

I put mine on my sleeve and admit them to only few
but when those few run away; well, it's time for another view.
Who am I and why am I not worth getting to know?
I'm not that bad! At least, I don't think so.

But I do have a flaw I'd like to kick to the curb.
I find it necessary to apologize for every want and urge.
But the problem is I'm tired of stating what I need
and getting knocked back down to my knees.

A New Day

It's a new day and so far it's been pretty great!
The kids woke up on time and I wasn't late!
But now I have to start working, and my day's going downhill
because I'm actually going to have to work; no more time to kill!

It's time to say goodbye to some of my kids
and get ready for the new set that will make me flip my lid!
So throw your hands up in the air and sway from side to side!
It's the last day of school; I'll watch them leave with pride!

WHY CAN'T I HAVE ONE DAY??????

Why can't I have a day where no tears need to fall?
What can't I have a day when I can clearly hear His call?
I am trying to do the right thing and clear the air before its stale
but I feel like a whipped dog running with a tucked tail.

My father treats me like he used to treat my dear mother.
He's used to a house that's orderly and neat and I'd like it too if I had my druthers.
But I have three girls and a full time job - when do you want me to clean?
Oh, I get it! I could just NOT sleep.

I screwed up a friendship with a friend who was true
all because I had thoughts; he didn't have them too.
I can't flipping breathe its hurting me so
and I really am lost, I just don't know.

So right now I'm sitting here trying to hold my tears back
and all the while my nerves are shot; it's them I really lack.
So let me close this up by saying I hope this finds you better
because right now I am feeling a little under the weather.

Emma

Emma Claire was born on September 15 of 2001 -
four days after the world was changed and the damage was done.
The first plane hit; news broke out and labor started.
My baby would come when so many from their families parted.

She was a tiny little babe, slightly over four pounds!
But she had the sweetest little cheeks and her head -- so round!
My little peanut was a reminder that in those dark days
God was showing his mercies-- he had his ways.

Today I'll prepare to watch her graduate to first
and I know that in tears I will burst.
My little peanut isn't so little anymore - I've got to let go
because she's growing up...where did the time go?

Unless you've been in my shoes you'll never know how I feel
about my Emma Claire. Her hair is golden with hints of red..yep the curls are real!
Her freckles frame her beautiful face and you'll instantly fall
for her beautiful smile and her voice when for you she calls.

She's named after Emma (both) and Clery and Clarie
and when I pause, it's Mom's face I see clearly
when I announced what her name would be.
There was no other name that would suit our littlle bean.

Tonight I'll watch with pride as my little peanut takes Father's hand
and takes her little diploma - the first of many to be in her hand.
I'll cry inside as I remember the day when Dr. A said
it's time for a baby--- it will all be ok.

What is it about me?

He learned to put me first; it was my only request.
That's what puts him above all the rest.
But I don't understand why it's hard for others to see
that I do that for them; can't they do that for me?

When I stop and say that I thought of you today
it's because I did; for you I often pray.
Did you stop and think of me on this, God's day?
Tell me if you did because I need to know you think of me that way.

I don't ask much; just take some time for me
especially now; so many are backing away from me.
They don't know what to say or do
and all I need is a friend that is true.

"For better or for worse" are words for friends too
so I want to know where mine are! Few have been true.
I don't wear my grief outside but it's deep inside
and I would like to know if you'll stay by my side.


I love you dearly, my friends.

Fuego De Noche, Nieve De Dia

Sometimes songs resonate with what your soul is feeling;
the words are strung together and your mind starts reeling.
How could the artist know that they have struck a chord with you
and about you the words were spoken; every one true?

I haven't thought of you (that way) in a while because that part of me is dead.
But all of a sudden I realize how you must have felt
and what words I could have spoken to you to make you understand.
If only I could go back and reach out for your hand.

We've both moved on and are separated by many miles and years;
but the song made me pause and reflect; I've cried my share of tears.
The passion that we felt was our fire by night,
and by day we were cooled by our life; it was only right.

And so, dear friend, I wanted to pause and say...
I am glad we made it past those days and it's odd to think it was that way...
but I don't regret one single day of our relationship
because it led to this great friendship.

Gina

You called and asked for forgiveness, but you already have it.
The problem is I just don't have it in me to forget I have been abandoned.
Everyone seems to have forgotten that I am a grieving mother
and want me to move on; we're even trying to have another.

You are my sister, and by my side you should have been.
I can forgive your absence; I forgave you then.
But I can't forget that while I grieve I look around and only Joe I see.
Trust me, this is a very lonely place to be.

Friends have come, and some have gone. I try to understand
but the fact is only few have taken my outstretched hand.
My grief is a burden that not many have tried to undertake
so please forgive me if it seems as if you I have forsaken.

It's hard for me to wake up and put my feet on the floor
when I know it's his urn I'll see outside my door.
So please don't think that I have time to hate
because I don't; It's only for my end that I wait.

I will always love you and remember with so much joy
the memories of my big sister who I looked up and would even annoy
but right now I don't have what it takes to make you understand
that I can't deal with this; I've given it to His hands.

I need my friends

The calendar keeps moving up and I wish it would stop.
Pretty soon the date will be here and my heart is going to drop.
Who will be here to help me as I gasp for every breath
because I don't have a son to put upon my breast?

I'm trying to take it easy and take each day as it comes
but one more shower; one more announcement and I'll surely run.
I want to go away where no one has a round belly
and no one smiles because being fake is getting old already.

I need my friends to understand that mostly I'm ok
But sometimes I'm trapped in a box and can't get out (like today).
The summer's coming up and I should be about to burst
but instead I feel phantom kicks and they're really starting to hurt.

If I'm acting a little odd just simply say to me
"it's ok for you to feel the way you do"; "You're ok with me".
I'll smile my most sincere smile and want to hug you so
because those words are what I need to hear more than you can know.



I know some of you are awesome about reading up on this site. Please, pass the word around. I really need hugs, cyber or IRL. I'm doing ok, but the cycle's starting again, and I really need to know that you are by my side.

Love,
Me

Reagan

She's a little over three feet
and when your eyes meet
you see into her soul.
This littlest girl of mine is a treasure to behold.

I took the test on the 17th of February in 2005.
God knew that we would need something positive in our lives.
Three months after Mom went Home she was brought into this world,
and ever since I've been thanking God for this little tiny girl.

She's tiny and she's feisty and as funny as she can be.
She gets naked when she's angry and dressed when she's happy.
(she's running around naked right now...can you guess how she feels?)
I know one day she'll leave and abandoned is how we'll feel.

She smiles at me and calls me 'Mommy' and I melt all over again.
All of a sudden listening to Barney doesn't seem such a drain.
And yesterday when I was so blue she's the only one who remembered
that Marshall "Teacup" is our tiniest family member.


I wish you could all meet Reagan. She's the happiest of the three kids, and the one to whom I feel the most connected (not that I don't love all of my kids..you'll be meeting them in poem soon). But yesterday, I was holding Marshall's urn, and she said Marshall (to me) for the first time. I usually say "marshall" to her and she'll say "Teacup" (Jacob)...but she did it all on her own yesterday.

Take Me Away

I want to run far away to a time and a place I am beginning to forget
where times were easier and pleasures were many and of our futures we didn't fret.
It's all too much this "dream" of mine, and I want to shut down my tired mind.

I envy my single friends, you see. Their lives are a little easier it seems.
To be able to live and laugh and love instead of battling just to stay above.
Marriage isn't all it's cracked up to be; I need some room just to breathe.

Now that they are here, God, don't take them away.
I've already lost my son, and the grief is more than words can say.
But please help them behave so I can pull myself together
and just be done with today's battle of waiting for another.

Beauty

I've been called lots of things throughout my 34 years.
Smart, logical, loving...but what I haven't been called has caused me tears.
He says I'm beautiful and I wonder why it is that he's the only one
that's ever said that; surely his mind is gone.

Why does it matter what others think of me?
This one hang up will be the death of me.
The truth is I am married, not dead,
and hearing someone think I am beautiful would surely spin my head.

But I'm not. I wear glasses, freckles, and have birthed four kids.
I'm not easy to look at; even this I have admitted.




I can't even finish this one. There. This is one that is SO close to me that it's knocking my breath out trying to finish it. It's in my head, but I can't write it down. :(

The Mighty Ducks

"Whatcha still doing here?" I asked him after work.
He was waiting in the hall and we NEVER used to lurk.
I was naive, and he was interested, and I really couldn't see
that the comments he was making to his friends were all about me.

"If only I was younger" is how most of them began.
It was just my luck; I really didn't want a younger man.
We met each morn' for coffee and talk before our tasks had begun
but it was on that day that I realized my heart had been won.

So when he stood up and waited for me I really was in shock
because he was interested in me; our eyes had finally locked.
We went to the movies and gently held hands while they skated across the screen.
I don't remember the rest because I was lost in him as against him I would lean.

We've had our ups and downs since that beautiful fall evening date,
but our hearts melt when we that story to others we relate.
That was the day one of us finally stoop up to say
I think it's time to be together, we'll fight to find a way.

I'd Take it all away for you

I'd take all the pain away and replace it with glee
if only that was the way life could be.
Grief is a cycle with its own twists and turns
and sometimes in its hellfire we burn.

Don't allow her to control your moods;
it's so much easier to say than to do.
But she didn't deserve your goodness and light
if for your love she wasn't willing to fight.

I know that you are going to do GREAT things
and it hurts to know that about yourself less you'd think
but everyone gets a chance to hurt
so I'll sit by you 'till you feel your worth.

Where do I start?

She can't tell him how she feels...he doesn't deserve to know.
She knows that it will bring them both pain and will really hurt him so.
It's bottled up deep inside the fresh morning dream
left behind on the pillow in which she let out a scream.

Soul to Soul

There's something about that moment when you see a person's soul;
so much goes unspoken but you know it's taken a toll.
Baring your fears, dreams, and wishes takes a lot of heart to do
but when you give it back it's even a harder thing to do.

La Pendejita

Ok. I want to explain something about me. My nicknames growing up varied. But you know what? I want to own one of them...La Pendejita. But now that I am married with kids of my own...it's La Pendeja. I am the most loyal friend you could ask for; but in return, I want the same. So...for Clarie:



Tu Pendejita :)

"Pendeja" was my nickname and I earned it to be sure -
their teasing and their loving I happily endured.
My nickname growing up was the little bitch
and sometimes I just can't help it...I gotta scratch that itch.


I am a bitch because I demand your solemn attention;
if you can't give it to me then state your intentions.
I don't play second fiddle to anyone; I don't have time for games.
I demand only the best; after all, Bitch is my name.


But what do you get in return? What can I offer you?
A heart of gold, an ear to listen, and quite often a tear or two.
You see, I demand only the best but in exchange I give you my soul
so in the end we both get something; a friendship that is whole.

Some Gave All

Three simple words repeated again and again in song;
to some it means that for him or her their family will forever long.
They didn't have to do it -- sign on the dotted line
and give their time and effort to a land of God's design.

But sign they did and on His day each gave up their life
so you and I could live so free and take each day in stride.
So on this day I ask of you to do one thing for them:
stop at three o'clock and say thanks for their selfless ticket to Heaven.

Laundry :P

They're everywhere I turn; on the floor and under the beds
little socks get lost in every nook; it's them I really dread.
They fall through the cracks and under the door
It's matching them up I really abhor!

They are all white and you'd think it'd be easy
but each has their match; the girls are so picky.
So if you ever hear of my death by torture you'll know
It was because of the socks I really hate so.



HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! This one made me giggle as I thought about it.

To My Sisters

My sisters chose to not come to my son's memorial service. One still hasn't called me...the other was full of hurtful excuses. This is how I feel, and although another month has passed, my feelings have not changed.

To my sisters

I wanted to address you two the best way I knew how.
But I don’t know much of anything since he left us (a month…) Wow!

Each of us carries the burden of having chosen to end a life.
What you don’t know is that Joe and I made that decision twice.
So when the ultrasound showed our son was no longer alive
Your sister and her husband had a piece of them die.

The depth of emotions that we have gone through
To this world are certainly not new;
But to us it’s raw and we really needed a family to come home to.
Instead, we found that the death of our son was a Scussel taboo.
(John and Trish called while their tragedy they went through).

I don’t know why you wouldn’t bother coming to my side.
But truthfully, I no longer care;
You made your decisions that day, and in those beds you’ll lie.
I don’t have the energy to try and rectify.

You see, dear sisters, in the last three years, I have had to change so much.
Helping Mom was one of the blessings God bestowed to me;
Being Marshall’s mother was the biggest there could be.

You chose to see Mom but denied praying for my son…
The damage is done.

You have both forgotten that as much as Mom loved us,
She loved our kids threefold;
So she’d feel the pain of losing Marshall as deep as my family does.

I don’t know if I’ll ever come around but the fact is I have three girls
Who frankly think their aunts hung the stars in the world.
They really think their cousins are the reason God made family;
I can’t deny them the people with whom they really want to be.

But be forewarned: They speak of him whom you choose to ignore
And their love for him you will feel the moment you walk through the door.
Let Dad know if and when my children you can see,
So I can arrange for someplace for Marshall and I to be.

Shh...it's a secret.

We meet in secret rendevouz all over the place.
The only way we know each other is the sadness in each other's face.
We are the mothers that suffer still with who most have forgotten:
our tiny little babies with fingers and toes that each numbered 10.

Today we had a meeting in an anonymous flea market booth.
I paused to see the baby boy rattle and little pillow for his first lost tooth.
A tear welled up and I gasped to breathe and to my side she drew.
She simply said "I know what you have been through".

This is one example of the small chance meetings
when we stand with each other and make sure we each keep on believing
that our children aren't gone; they simply went home
and that in our grief, tears, anger, and sadness we do not stand alone.

Each meeting makes me smile then brings me right back down again
because another mother knows the pain that I live daily in.
I'm not alone in holding his urn and wishing he was here.
I'm not alone in wishing it was my baby I was holding near.

You've Got it Again, huh?

LOL! Ok...hopefully this will tell of one of three experiences I had today I want to record. This is cute, funny, and typical of me!


We strolled into the flea market just trying to blend in.
Reagan was running and I was chasing - our typical Saturday thing.
I heard the beat as I walked in and my ears remembered the tune
and flashes of memories began to race across -- of dances under the moon.

I ignored it and we walked looking at everyone's goods and wares.
Lots of cheap stuff and every now and then a treasure here and there.
But my mind's eye kept going back to the little store when we walked in.
I knew I had to return -- he smiled as I walked in.

"It's been a while" he said as I walked into his little store.
I was shocked that he remembered I'd been in there before.
"I'll always remember you" he grinned and told he'll never forget
I'm the gringa with a tear in my eye and a pep in my step.

I last walked in there almost three years ago
looking for that song that made her laugh and dance around the floor.
Tears welled up as he said they didn't carry that song anymore.
I told him about Mom and he paused and took a breath.

"Look what I have" he said to me.
He walked behind the counter, pushed a button, and then it hit me...
he not only had the song; he had the whole CD
and kept it knowing one day I'd be back --- he waited for me!!

Reagan was dancing and entertaining the men
so he took my hand and gave me a spin.
"Never forget life is full of angels and you have certainly been one of mine"
He told me he'd lost his wife days before my last request he'd denied.

We spun around the floor --
well, he spun and I stumbled
as I grinned and the men clapped for their friend and his happy little Gringa.






I know...weird. Two weeks in a row of running into someone and dancing...but maybe it's Mom? I don't know. But the gentleman made my day, and I walked out with the CD, and a little shirt for Reagan. Now, what will Joe say when he walks in to see her shirt that says "It's better in Puerto Rico"? LOL

Intimate with My Friends

Death has been a part of my life for a few years now. I have learned that death is one of society's last taboos. We all do it; but we don't talk about it. Just weird. I'd like to take you all back to that day in 2005 when we lost Mom.


August 10, 2005. Perhaps to you it was just another day,
but for us our life was going to change in every possible way.

I suppose the best way to start is at the beginning instead of the end
so you can understand why this poem's only rattled around my head.
Words seem so inadequate to describe the process we all went through
as we watched her die -- it was over, the answers she finally knew.

Mom's cancer was my nightmare, it woke me up at night
years before she had it; I just knew the bug would bite.
The diagnosis came in July 2003; it'd be really hard to beat.
She'd give it a try but the end she knew it'd finally be.

First they gave her surgery and removed some teeth, half her tongue and part of her jaw.
You should have seen what I saw; the twinkle was actually gone.
She chose darker glasses so no one could see the pain she was going through
all in an effort to make us feel better about the end as near it drew.

I'll never forget the day I walked into the hospice center.
The nurse looked sad; my father graven. The tunnel she'd finally enter.
I called the other two; their absence had to be the reason she hung on --
you should have seen the effort it took to breathe...every single breath was a battle to be won.

They finally came in and around her we gathered
to sing her favorite hymns and over her talk to God in solemn prayer.
"Amazing Grace" "Rock of Ages" and "In the Garden" were sung
as we prayed the doxology for His countenance on her to shine upon.

Her fingertips and little toes were gray
It was just so sad to see how her red fingertips glowed against the blackness of death.
It was 9:55, the day had just begun
but her battle was won.

She turned her beautiful head and looked right at Dad as that final breath she drew
a sign and symbol of the years of joy and strife they'd been through.
She was there; it wasn't cancer...we'd seen their intimacy.
We were there as John and Teresa said "In heaven together we'd be".

My Mom had died...OH MY GOD! My baby gave a flip
The last three years had been something of a really bad acid trip.
G-tube feedings, then a J tube; clearing out her throat.
Medicine that'd knock over a city did nothing to touch her tremendous pain
but I'd do anything to do all of that all over again.

We stepped out of the room as the nurses fixed that beautiful lady;
and prepared her so we could kiss her one last time.
The door was opened and we stepped in and in the bed she laid.
With sunflowers in her hand as she prepared for her last goodbye.

Her head was warm and clammy; her hands as cold as they ever were.
I looked at Dad with pity as his heart fell apart.
He thanked her for his children and all their 35 years. "Goodbye my little friend"
were the last words he spoke to her.

Looking back I see the gift she left for me; I was there as she died
and was able to thank her for my life.
But unless you've seen your mother die don't tell me how to be
because I knew the end would come in July 2003.

Signs from Above

I have NO idea where this one came from, except that Mom's address book is on the table, and this happened today. I wanted to reconnect, and...yep...another poem :P I am going to bed now. Hubby's not home and I have some dreams to dream.

Curvy roads...music...beach...sand...dancing....


Title: She Brought You to Me

Simple everyday tasks are not so simple when your heart is broken;
every scratch can be that golden token.
The key to memories you won't relive and days from long ago
are written down on papers which you can't let go.

I found your name in an old address book...
there your names sat in her writing
and it was like a flame in my heart was igniting!
She's leading me to you.

Mom never understood why I hated myself as I do;
and struggled to see me go through the hell that I went through.
She always had fond memories of your mom and your dad
she told me once you'd be the best friend I ever had.

So when we got back in touch I looked for that book...
it's tatttered and torn and in the back of the drawer where I'd never look
except that she dropped hints and signs
that you are supposed to be in my life.

The Island Calls

I grew up in Puerto Rico. The passion, the heat..it's consuming...and I had to pen it. I LOVE this poem, and there's another one in my head dying to come out. ONE more dream about Ricky Martin's hips ought to do it. HOLY HELL!! LOL

The Island is Calling.

Every few years it comes to a boil
And from my life I seemingly recoil.
It starts with a hum; grows into a song.
Then for my island life I start to long.

Dogs running wild, a run down the street, old men playing dominoes
These are memories that from my fingertips flow.
The sites, the smells, they are all inside
And I have had to learn to just push them all aside.

Then the trumpet blasts, the bass falls, I hear “El Africano”
And I start to remember those nights of dancing with gentlemen
On the porch of the Casa Grande; their names I still don’t know
But they touched my soul and left a yearning for people and times long ago.

Touring through forts, driving through mountains, playing in pools
If I told you that’s how I grew up you’d call me a fool
For hating it then; now about it I obsess
Because my life here sometimes seems like so much less.

At the time I hated it; I wasn’t pretty or cute
But I was smart; Not what most want for their youth!
Soon the red, white, and blue flew through my blood
But Dad made us leave; it wasn’t safe in the neighborhood.

I left behind people who didn’t care that I was smart…
We all had our talents – whether academics or art;
I came to a place where I was square and the hole was round
No one really wanted me around.
(I spoke Spanish and cared less about material things
Heaven forbid I said something to make them think.)

I stopped listening to the music; stopped trying to speak the language
Because of me they were taking advantage.
I wanted to fit in; I ditched what I knew
And just wanted to be part of the crew.
(Who really cared if I had a Swatch? Were my jeans Guess?
I used to care less!)

But “Blast” Goes the trumpet, the beat speeds up
And soon I can’t stop; it’s in my blood.
I’m trying to teach my kids about this part of me
That really needs a chance to live and breathe and be.

So, you see, dear friend, I am struggling to show
That pain isn’t the only feeling I can know.
He’s made me realize that I part of me died
And maybe it’d be better if the old Heather tried to revive.

I’ll take my family to see the places that helped make me
Be the person they need me to be.
Will they understand why I crave the air, the sounds, coquis?
I don’t know…we’ll wait and see.

But return I must
It’s a feeling worse than lust.
It’s consuming me like a fire consumes a tree
The island is calling; let me return is my only plea

Raw pain brings inspiration

“Congratulations! It’s a girl!” or maybe even “Boy!”
These are the words you want to hear that fill your heart with joy.
Instead we heard the words no parent ever wants to hear – “I’m so sorry”
fell from her lips; she looked so very ashen.
This just can’t be! It’s NOT supposed to happen!

March 27th is the day it was all confirmed…
We saw him on the screen and of his passing we learned.
A tiny little head; gentle little hands –
So very still and perfect, as if lulled to a nap.

It could take several hours, or maybe even days,
But soon in your hands he’ll lay.

Don’t make me go! I wanted to scream!
Throw away the gown! It belongs to someone else…They don’t belong to me!!!
I crawled into the bed, feeling like a murderer
While everyone treated me like a poor grieving mother.

“It’s just nature” or “It’s God’s way”
What the hell did you say?
Did God really make a mistake?
Is that what you are trying to say?

You kind of laugh and cry…what else are you to do?
Alone in a room with your husband who is grieving too.
We watched some movies and fell asleep and had a cry or two, and then we saw the clock; it was 5:02.

I felt the urge to push, but Oh My God!
If I do,The end will come and I am not ready for this to be through.
I pushed and out he slid; the perfect angel we were waiting for.
She picked him up and said “We’ll clean him up for you”.

We waited in stunned silence; our hearts were clearly torn.
In she walked with a blanket folded into two,
And wrapped up inside, was the perfect little guy.
His eyes were open, his lips slightly parted as if to say goodbye

I wanted to die! What else could I do?
His hands were tiny; they wouldn’t cover your nail!
He weighed just ounces but in our hearts he will always prevail.

I miss my son; he belongs to Him and always did. I know.
But what did I do to let him go?

I close my eyes and blink away the tears some wish I didn’t shed,
And slap on a smile to make them all happy instead.
But I hurt and I feel like I’m in the way;
I pray for the end of each and every day.

I take my meds so I don’t feel the pain that breaks my heart
Because a month ago with my son I had to part.

Where to start?

Well, I guess I should just dive right in.

But Marshall wasn't meant for this world, too beautiful was he.
So, an empty womb and a full heart are the gifts he left to me,
and all I could give him was my love, some kisses, and affection.

His urn sits on a shelf; his ashes proudly displayed.
His sisters still want to buy him clothes and shoes so he can walk;
what they don't understand is that he has wings instead of feet.

I don't know how to help them; I am as helpless as a lamb,
but my shepherd will guide me through it if by his side I stand.
My son's eyes were open; it was His face he saw first.
He must have marvelled when he heard his name called by the First.

I have to accept it; my heart struggles with this thought,
that my body just wasn't good enough for his gentle little heart.

Here's to writing!

I've never done anything like this, but it seems only appropriate that I start now.

This blog is mine...wow! Ok...let me give you all an intro.

I have recently discovered that I have a talent...poetry! Well, it's a gift I got from Mom. For those that knew me when, Mom died almost three years ago from cancer. I lost my Mom and my best friend :( I was pregnant with my third child at the time, so my life really changed after that.

Then, this year, my body failed. I delivered our fourth child, our surprise...our first son. But he was 20 weeks too early, and was born an angel. Marshall Jacob will forever be my reminder that God has His ways.

I have recently come back in touch with friends I grew up with. I have blocked out a lot of that time period because it wasn't accessible to me, and it really hurt to live back in Florida. Now, it's coming back to me...just at a time when I thought I was drowning.

Anyway, I am going to be posting some of the poems I have written here...in hopes that one day, I'll be successful in discovering Heather.