Broken Without You

By Glen Staples

Managing Editor

http://www.glenslife.com/

The minutes crawled into hours. The hours crept achingly slowly into days. When the days became weeks I began to fall apart, and as the weeks lurked hopelessly into months, the numbness took hold of my soul and wrenched it to pieces.

My heart never even noticed when the months became years.

I am broken.

Every hour that passes.

Every minute.

I am without you.

You are not with me.

The weight of your absence presses a tonne of despair upon my every breath. You were my air, you were my light

.

Without you I cannot see, I cannot breathe.

My chest tightens now, as I look at the photos of us together from those days; those special days.

We were together.

We were one.

On the good days I laugh at the memories we shared – the closeness we felt and the warmth that you gave me.

On the bad days I crumble, the pressure of my loss forces my head onto the table, and I revel in the pain from the hard surface pushing against my temple. 

The pain is physical. 

The pain helps.

I lost you then, and I’ve been losing you ever since

.

I am not me; without you I am nothing but a shell; an empty vessel drifting along the tide of life.

I’ve lost you.

And you are never coming back.

Well, not on my head anyway...

I notice you have no problem growing out of my nose or on my back, you bastard.

“And all because the lady loved...”

Antony Waller

Submissions Editor, RBU: The Group Blog

   A Shimmering of Northern Light

   http://antonyjwaller.wordpress.com/

Do you remember the tv adverts from the 70s and 80s? The ones for Cadbury’s Milk Tray. A man dressed in black would leap from a helicopter, swim through shark infested waters, scale the side of a sheer cliff, drop over a high garden wall to a house where he would shin up the trellis and climb into the lady’s bedroom window and all so he could leave a box of chocolates and a rose on a table by the side of her bed. Yes, I know times have changed, and the lady would probably sue the guy for making her eat chocolate and put on weight, but bear with me. (It might even be the lady leaving the chocs for the man!)

Anyway I was reminded of the advert the other day.

We were staying with a friend and just about to go to Cheltenham for an afternoon event at the literary festival. The usual rush. I know how you ladies like to look your best and the time it can sometimes take. The front door was slammed shut, we were sat in the car and just about to set off when you suddenly hear those dreaded words, “Oh no, I’ve picked up the wrong keys. I haven’t got a door key. We’re locked out.” (Note the use of the word “we” when what she meant was “she was locked out”. It was her house!)

Sure enough “we” were! Locked out.

A search through her cavernous handbag confirmed the worse. No keys. Just about everything else you could wish for but no keys or anything useful for breaking and entering. (There was half a packet of biscuits in case “we” were a long time breaking in and got hungry).

“I may have left the bedroom window unlatched and you can push the lower pane up. I do that in case I lose my keys. There’s a ladder in the garage.”

Only the garage was locked and, yes you have guessed, the garage key is in the house. So “we” began knocking on neighbour’s doors to borrow a ladder. Now it’s not often a ladder is too long but the one we managed to borrow was. Great for gaining access via the chimney, not the bedroom window.

Now the bedroom window in question also happened to have a stone windowsill festooned with flower troughs. A colourful and lovely sweet scented display in summer but a bit of a barrier for anyone wishing to climb in or elope. Anyway I, not “we”, managed to get the lower window open but because of the size of the window (and the length of the ladder, remember) meant I had to crawl in forwards. Cue gales of laughter from down below at the sight of a pair of legs slowly disappearing less than elegantly through the opening and into the bedroom.

It was never like that in those adverts. Still I didn’t leave any chocolates or a rose by the lady’s bedside either, just a set of dirty handprints on the carpet.

We did, however, manage to make it to our event at the festival on time!

A Little Bit in Love with...

By Nicone 

My Little Sketchbook

http://mylittlesketchbook.com/

Not speaking any Italian, whilst living in Italy, can cause a few headaches. The average Italian doesn’t speak English very well, so you have to resort to body-language, mimicking, pointing, or speaking very loudly (kidding… the last one won’t help at all – it just feels strangely natural). 

The language barrier is extra awkward when you are face to face with the Italian bureaucracy. Regretfully, there’s no way to avoid it if you want to obtain the right to live, drive, park your car, go to work, or go to the doctor’s office in Italy. There is always a form or contract you have to fill out and sign, after you’ve figured out which office to go to! When you finally get there you are in company of dozens of Italians presumably in the same errand (how do they get anything done in this country?). There will definitely be a line-up, so you must take a number, sit down and wait for your turn. If you are lucky there are one or two persons who can understand a little English and express something intelligible to non-Italian ears.

At the *** office in Pisa this person is Antonio…

I’m a little bit *in love* with Antonio… He swooped in to rescue his mono-lingual, and much younger, colleague. Then he gallantly waved me inside the counter, and guided me through all the red tape. Granted, the multilingual Antonio has a severe limp, and I’m not sure all his teeth were intact. Furthermore, it might have been a while since he took a good long bath and changes his clothes… Still, oozing with charm and personality, he is my hero! (Of this post, at least.)

Later, when I had to return to his office (with a vast amount of documentation), all I had to do was whisper the name of Antonio to the woman behind the counter, and there he was, readily limping towards me. After a period of courtship between the two of us, everything worked out for the best! I am now the happy owner of documented proof of residency.

Oh well, it turned out to be a temporary document, which only proved that we have applied for residency, but at no fault of Antonio’s! It was even good enough for the police officer, to whom we had to apply for a parking permit. So now we can park our car within the city walls, where we now live. (I tell you; the world is moving forward!) In order to get the actual proof of residency we need more documentation (birth certificates and marriage certificate) sent from Norway, formally translated to English or Italian and to get it so called Apostille stamped. All this to prove we are an actual family, and not just a group of strangers living together…!

At least now I know that once these papers arrive in my mailbox I will once again meet my dear Antonio!

At a Loss

Ryan
http://currentripple.blogspot.com/

I must admit that I have neglected my postings lately...

See these past 12 months have been filled with a whole shit-load of loss.  It's taken the proverbial wind out of my sails for the last little bit.  Melancholy is right now, a very good word.

It seems to have started with the death of my two and a half year relationship last December, and all that comes with the decision to end a relationship.  Next a revisiting of memories of what I/we had hoped would be on into the future.  The undoing of the promises and dreams, comes down to some procedural  filings and a countdown to the day they can be processed into the end of what once was.

Then came the death of my dear friend's 14 day old grandson due to a heart defect that could not be rectified. That was a tough service.

So raw the emotions of losing such a wee one
So loved and nurtured during his short stay here on earth
How he touched the hearts of all of us who prayed for a different blessed outcome, that sadly was not to be...

Those of you who follow my blog know that in June I lost someone who I considered to be the matriarch of my family, my beloved Rita; who stayed with us and kept us hopeful for 5 weeks following her stroke.  So  extremely blessed were we to have the time we did with her before she peacefully drew her last breath and moved onward across the horizon, leaving us shattered and alone.  I still feel so blessed that she allowed me to be with her when she made her journey home, and that still brings me great peace that she drifted off so easily; it was my miracle to witness.

Then, just 6 weeks ago, the news that a friend had passed after a tragic motorcycle accident jarred my reality as to the uncertainty of time we are allotted in this place. Waiting for updates and eventually traveling to be with others to celebrate this young mans incredible spirit; tears, laughter, photos and fellowship rounded out a fitting tribute to someone who touched many.

And then again 2 weeks ago, the unexpected news that one of our team had passed suddenly overnight; complications of surgery undertaken in the weeks prior.  The shock was palpable, she was an amazing lady; full of life and love for her friends and especially her beloved family.  A true Angel here on earth, who worked with numerous community organizations, opened her arms and heart to whomever needed a lift, and who was so in love with her husband of just 5 short years, her children and grandchildren whom she adored more than life itself.  If you wanted to see Linda glow, mention her family.

So here I find myself, on the other side of all of this loss and I am myself lost. I read back the words I have written about my life and how at it's end "it will not have been one moment longer or shorter than was precisely planned for my journey..." and I am no longer quite as sure. I understand that we are all headed in the same direction and that no one or no thing will stand forever, but this onslaught of "leaving" has jarred me a bit.

These past months have seen more loss than the entire previous decade.  I can say that my faith is intact; I am just lost within the questions of why, and when.  How and when is my time?  Will it be peaceful?  Will we have the time to say our words to each other?  Why do the good ones get taken so soon?

I hold fast to the knowledge that I am loved, and that I love.  My existence is filled with an array of amazing persons whom I adore.  I understand more clearly that to love them and cherish them, adds colour and texture and depth to my world, and that it will also in time add sadness and grief as we inevitably lose one another; all part of the same painting, all plants in the same garden of life.  For to love someone today, one must include that they were brought into life to live their seasons, to flourish and then decline and fade away. Just as summer roses or spring tulips burst forth into life, blossom and grow, and then fade at season's end, so to shall we fade at our seasons end.

So I guess I am "at a loss" as to how to catch my heart up to my head.  Time I know will smooth the emotions into memories and smiles of all who have gone on ahead.  Time will take the edges off of the grief and fill the garden with life anew.  I guess time will walk my path with me.  And time will allow me to say the words I need to say; will allow me to hold and touch, cherish and support and love...

The Calm Before the Day Begins

By Maureen Blaseckie
A Sudden Alarm of Donkeys
http://suddenalarm.blaseckie.ca/   

I fall asleep to podcasts or audiobooks because I find it helps distract the wee hamster in my head from running on the wheel all night generating misplaced static electricity from what I'm going to do about the pile of laundry, whether I should I go to the pool tomorrow, why am I a complete screw-up and will Beijing or Mumbai become overlords of Victoria following the post-economic apocalypse.  This means I still have earbuds in at least one ear in the morning and the iPod has generally slipped under my back during the night.

With this in mind, I've taken technology in hand, trashed the clock radio and programmed the iPod to play the "harp" alarm to start my day. It isn't all that effective at getting me up right away. It usually takes a few minutes before I realize why my dream includes a somewhat tinny, repetitive harp riff and there's something buzzing near my left kidney. But that is all part of my plan.

I've tried a few other of the alarm selections - the Marimba felt like someone was playing a tune on my teeth, the sonar is just plain annoying and the alarm alarm [taken directly from movies where the world is about to end, everything is flashing red and that damn woman's voice say's, with calm reason, "The nuclear device will detonate in 5 minutes"] resulted in my ripping 2 cords out of a wall and running full tilt into the door. With the harp alarm, I usually twig after about 10 minutes that morning has made her return to this side of the planet.

What follows is about 2 minutes of precious calm. Still warm and completely relaxed from sleep, settled deep into the covers, eyes closed. I don't even think about what is ahead or what I'll need to do five minutes after the essentials have been seen to.  The morning plans can wait for review while standing on the step waiting for the dog to pee.

This is precious time. Nothing hurts, nothing has been forgotten or discovered. There are no questions, no reproach, no expectations.  Suspended between worlds.

Then I hear my beloved's iPod begin to buzz; he'll reach over tenderly, jab me in the ribs and mumble something about coffee. The dog is whining in his crate and the morning fusillade begins. As the feet rotate towards the floor joints pop and crackle: the full body symphonic follows with wood winds and brass.

Cue the damn birds, I'm ready to face the day.  

A Message from the Founder's Keyboard

Greetings Fellow RBUers and all you other visitors, too!  Before I go any farther, I’d like to offer a HUGE thank you to Glen Staples for coming to the rescue with the October edition of our little blog because my life has been a crazy whirlwind these past few weeks.  And I think the October posts were fabulous…as always!  So kudos to you, Glen. 

And now, with that bit of business out of the way I’d like to say welcome to…I can hardly believe it…November!  Good grief, where has this year gone?  November is just one month away from December and then, GADS, it’ll be time for a whole new year.  Sometimes it boggles my mind how quickly time flies when you’re (doing whatever it is that you do which is supposed eventually lead to you to) having fun.   Yes, I suppose it does sort of lose its oomph when you really stop to think about it, doesn’t it?

But that’s why we have blogging isn’t it? 

What’s that, you ask?  How did I come to that conclusion? 

Well, first of all when we post to our own blogs and when we get the chance to pop over to visit the sites of other blogthurs, time sort of stops and we get to live not only in our own little moments but we also get to be a part of snippits of time that our blogging friends share with the whole world.  And second, if we should ever feel so inclined, we can very simply ‘revisit’ all the special moments we’ve particularly enjoyed with the simple click of a button.  Come now, I’m sure you’ve done it before.  I know I have.  Oh yes, there have been some blog posts my blogging buddies have made me giggle so much that I’ve gone back a few days later to reread them just to see if they were still funny. 

And lo and behold, I’ve determined that about 96.3% of the time…those posts still get me to grinning.  Of course, I’m sure you’re wondering about the other 3.7%  and about that let me just say that I’ve recently discovered that somehow my giggle reflex has something to do with the amount of caffeine and sugar I ingest in the moments directly preceding when I read or rather reread a post.  So based on my wholly unscientific calculations, I’ve decided that from now on…if I really want to give a fair shake to any rereads…I’m going to keep a stash of chocolates in my desk drawer and a few soda pops in my mini-fridge upstairs. 

Alright so right about now you’re probably wondering where this is all leading to as my ‘Message From the Founder’s Keyboard’ usually discusses the theme for the month at hand…and in a weird, roundabout, rambling sort of way, this month’s intro does describe the theme for November 2011 because our theme is ‘BLOGGER’S CHOICE’ which means our members were asked to send in anything their little blogging hearts desired (so long as it fit the guidelines…as the editor, I always have to point that out.)  

Now doesn’t that just whet your whistle to ponder what little gems our members have sent in?  And aren’t you hoping that you’ll get to find a bit of quiet time in the coming days to pop over to RBU:The Group Blog to lose yourself for a few minutes in the thoughts of someone other than yourself?  I know it does for me! 

So remember in the nonblogging world, tempus may feel like it fugits past us at supersonic speeds but here in the blogging world we can make time stand still as we lose ourselves in the moments of others.

Enjoy November!