M is for Mourning

I haven't always been the perfect daughter! Who is? My mother and I have always had a somewhat volatile relationship. Three and a half years ago, we had a terrible falling out. I chose not allow her behavior in front of my children to continue.

I stopped speaking to her, and because of my choice, the remainder of my family chose not to speak to me. I mourned this "death" for a very long time. I wrote this poem long before I knew she was ill. Dying from brain cancer.

MOURNING CLOAK

The mourning happens
When I miss you most,
Mother.

Each longing, a small death,
Leading me through our
family crypt of dysfunction.

I break the lock, swatting cobwebs of tangled
memories from my face, spewing angry epitaphs,
etched into your granite heart.

Is your skin now paper, thin?
Have you forgotten what it is, you need to remember?
Or do you prefer age as your excuse.

The sharp shards of your slated words
impale me, one at a time.
"I. Wish."

The “Never,” scraping, flaying me,
The “had,” exposing, tearing away,
“You!”

I inhale, turn back to my life without you,
Shrug off the mourning cloak
Of my life, of you.
I lock the crypt once more.

As of today, she is home from the nursing home, Hospice caring for her.

I saw my mother two months ago, she still recognized me, her grandchildren, and my husband. She could hardly speak. But she knew us, knew we had come, that I was there.

We've visited her twice since. Her last words to me were 4, 5 , 6, 7. This is how she responded to all questions, counting. Counting down, counting seconds?

Now she is completely lost now, locked inside her head. No more words.

I love you, Mom!

The Importance of Crafting Compelling Characters

You know Katniss Everdeen, Harry Potter, and Bella Swan - these aren’t just names, they’re characters whose secrets you know, desires you understand, and whose fears you wish you could quell. Characters so alive, you’ve fallen in love with them.

Why does this happen?

Not by accident.

These characters are carefully crafted so their actions, dialogue and choices show (yes, show) how they think and what they believe. Crafted to make their flaws stand out, their secrets weigh heavy, to allow their fears to be exploited.

As my character’s life unfolds, my goal is to make it easy for the reader to get caught up in the character’s actions and words.  If I do it right, I can facilitate an internal dialogue where the reader reacts emotionally and wants to tell my character not to make that choice or say those words. Where the readers wants to send warnings, because they care about what is happening the character.

Of course my character will make the wrong choice or say the wrong thing, they have to. The reader can’t change what will happen, but they will love my character more for making mistakes, for being human.

Ultimately, I want my reader to cry when my character pays the price for their mistakes, and laugh and cheer them on when they grow and change. Most of all, I want to make reader believe in my character. 

Once a reader believes a character can save the world, fight evil wizards, or love a vampire, you've succeeded in creating a compelling character.

Two for Tuesday! April 6, 2010

All right, I may be flashing back or just having hot flashes, but I am still into the following quote by Jimi Hnedrix.

1. "When the power of love overcomes the love of power the world will know peace." Jimi Hendrix

     The word peace has been on my mind a lot in the last few weeks.  Finding my inner peace, keeping my inner peace, even sharing it quietly or in silence, because that is what peace is all about. Not recognition, just being and giving and knowing who I am, and how I have changed. 

2.  "Most folks are as happy as they make up their minds to be." Abraham Lincoln
      This from a man who truly knew what it was like to be unhappy and depressed.

No bonus quote today. But I would like it if you would share these quotes with at least one person. Let me know what tehy say by leaving me a comment. Thanks!

Kendra is a poet, and I Know It!

Well it’s official, my daughter is a poet. This year has marked a major change in how Kendra’s feels about writing. A positive change, something I was sure would never happen.

Everything changed in October 2009, once she was diagnosed with Dyslexia . She hated writing, cried on the mornings she had to go into school knowing it was spelling test day.

This is what dyslexia looks like to Kendra.

I knew we had accomplished a lot when she finally wanted to read on her own.But spelling still was not something she could do. Learning to read had been a four-year struggle of me battling the school to get her tested for dyslexia, the school telling me the tests were inconclusive and she wasn’t dyslexic, and then finally being told that they (the school) would never diagnose her as dyslexic because they “Just wouldn’t.) Her teachers, the reading specialist, nobody could teach her how to read, no matter how hard they tried. And they did try! Everyone was getting frustrated, most of all Kendra.

In March of 2008, I heard about a program from a mom in town. She was like, “really, try it. It works.”

So we did.

It is called Kumon and it did work!

Does work!

www.kumon.com

Every Wednesday for a year, we drove to Norwich, VT and Kendra worked on new reading skills, made slow progress, and came home and worked 20-30 minutes of everyday, of every week, practicing and working on her worksheets. She did it when she was sure she would never be any good at reading, she was diligent, and then she hit a wall. No amount of practice sheets or repetition seemed to help her reading advance. Through the tears, she kept plugging away. She wanted to be a reader!

Suddenly, one day it all clicked. (It was amazing. I actually saw the light bulb above her head blink on!) Kendra figured out how to compensate for her dyslexia, and overcame the dyslexic obstacles preventing her from reading. To this day she can’t explain how she figured it all out, she just did. Now, two years later, she is an avid reader, who cannot spell at all. I don’t know how she does it, but it is amazing!

Kendra keeps trying though. She writes her own poetry and stories, and spell check is her pal. On most days, writing is all done with a pencil, and on these days she is still frustrated. She has to go back and read what she has written, which is hellish for her. It’s not easy to read her writing, everything looks the same to her. Phonetically spelled words are never written the same way twice. It’s hard work. But, she keeps trying and this is why I am so proud of her.

The poem below is beautiful, just like Kendra. Here it is:

What If Trees Had No Leaves

By Kendra Johnson

What if trees had no leaves?

They would look bare,

shiver in the cold,

look lonely, like all their best friends

will never come back.

And everything would darken in the snow,

Finally, the snow melts,

The leaves don’t come back.

Though it is lighter than in winter,

The trees were yearning for their leaves.

After crying a hundred tears of missing them,

the trees finally go silent.

A Decade Gone!

Today my daughter turns 10. It may not seem like a major milestone to some, but it is for me. I find it hard to believe she is changing from a little girl to an emerging teen.  

Her beauty isn’t just skin deep. At 10, she possesses much poise, has a great sense a humor, is learning the flute, is very creative and artistic, and is still young enough to dream big, which she does.

She is beautiful!

With double digits, comes more sophisticated problems; navigating the endless girl drama, the beginning of hormone changes, self image conflicts, confidence issues, and so much more. I forgot how hard this all was. Or maybe, it was so traumatic I pushed it way back into the dark recess of my mind. But either way, I hope she doesn't get to caught up in it all and forget to be true to herself.

What I do know, is that she is a gift. Unexpected, but welcomed more so than any other event in my life. I want her to always know she is loved and cherished, and never want her to question her origins, like I did. She is flesh of my flesh, not adopted like me. Therefore, she was always wanted from the very first moment when I realized she was possible.

I wrote this poem shortly after she was born, knowing my miracle had happened.

So for Kendra on your 10th birthday, here is your poem.

INFERNO

The spark exploded
from within.
I held you deep inside;
the suddenness of your being possessed me.
I knew you existed from that moment.
Whispered you were inside me, an untold story
the first words, the first sentence above:
The Spark.

I warmed as you ignited into a tiny flame;
I had not experienced this before.
Not with your brother

or the one I lost before him.
Only you.
Was it because you were so unexpected,

created from joy? I don’t know.
But there you were:

My Spark.

I whispered your arrival to a stunned face,

hazel eyes dipping, reaching into me.
Those words surprised me, filled me with wonder

as astonishing as you,
I felt it too! he said.

Our Spark.

Now, thousands of hours later, I look at you
and burn inside, womb clenching,
trying to hold on.
The world outside beckons, tempts you
with twigs of knowledge
once consumed by your fire,
your hunger grows.

I can only contain you for a short time longer.

Your Spark.

You are an inferno of life, a fire, a light
so bright,
my own spark pales,
but never does my joy for you,

My Inferno.