A home is not a house with windows and doors. A home is not a building of wood or stone. A home is where the heart is.
A dear friend of mine died a few days ago and I was devastated when I first heard the news. I started to think about all of those dear to me that I have lost and I felt bereft. Through my tears I felt only emptiness. Time seemed to stand still and then I started to remember. I remembered the laughter and the fun times, I remembered long talks and heated discussions. We shared tea and biscuits, long walks and quiet times. She was someone I trusted, someone whose opinion I valued even when we disagreed. We respected each other. We cared about each other. And now she is gone.
I first met this paragon of virtue just after my father died. My mother had moved into a retirement residence and my friend belonged to the church that held a service there. My mother needed the solace of the church and she found so much more. She often asked me to join her and one day I did. On that day a friendship was born. Eventually I became a regular and the friendship strengthened.
When I lost my mother this dear friend stood beside me and gave me the strength I needed at a time when I didn’t believe it was possible. She dried my tears when I didn’t have a hanky and she laughed with me when I told the same story over and over. She was my friend. She will always be with me in my heart and in my memories. Dear friends don’t leave they simply move on. I hope that God honours her as much as I did. Goodbye my friend.
HIGH ON A HILL
A FLOWER STANDS ALONE
BY THE WIND
AND THE SUN.
ALONE SHE GROWS
STRONG AND TALL
WHEN TWILIGHT THREATENS
AND NIGHT ENCROACHES.
THE DARK HOURS BEGIN
AND TIME STANDS STILL.
WHO BELIEVES IN THE LONELY FLOWER
AS SHE WAITS THERE STILL?
SOON, ONE DAY
AND AN END
TO THE LONELY NIGHT.
I hate the word can’t. Can’t, can’t, can’t. Recant, vacant. It is such a negative word, a harsh word. Unable or incapable or even cannot is preferable. Of course can, able, or capable are even more preferable. It is amazing how words can encourage us or even discourage us. Something as simple as a sound, vowels and consonants have the power to move us. A rousing speech made by an honest Politian, (and you thought I didn’t have a sense of humour) or music, good music. Music that we think is good. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. Music, like Art, is very personal, even visceral. It is almost impossible to explain to another why a particular piece of music, or art, moves us. It doesn’t matter, if it touches you it can be used to benefit your situation. Anything, almost anything, that makes you feel good about who you are, is something you need in your life. As long as it doesn’t harm another and it is legal. I will not condone something that is illegal. At least not openly. Shhhhhh.
When I was a kid I was terrified of everything. I wanted to disappear into the wall, not be noticed by anyone. I was sure everything I said would be wrong and I would embarrass myself. It didn’t help that I am a red head, everyone else usually had blond or brown hair. The result was that I got noticed. I also blushed easily with made me a target for a great deal of teasing.
When I was in High School I discovered the Drama Department. I went to my first audition as a favour to a friend, sort of moral support. I ended up getting a small part. I was hooked. I could hide behind a character with impunity. Actually I played a hooker without having to hook. The point is I could address the world using someone else’s voice and mannerisms. I was safe.
Having a very visible disease means that one gets noticed. I am in a wheelchair, it is tough to go anywhere incognito. So I have adapted. I am no longer afraid of everything. I will always be afraid of some things but most people have a fear or two they hide away. Now I feel I have a responsibility to speak out because so few do. I may no longer contribute in an official work capacity but I can still contribute with my words. I will add my voice to the faint chorus of those who lobby for the inalienable rights of those with disabilities. And honey when I get miffed . . . let the others beware!