tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57374832831116159292023-06-20T05:15:49.202-07:00Stories to be toldRuth McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16762097218420825620noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737483283111615929.post-81467808582724483922013-09-17T06:11:00.001-07:002013-09-17T06:11:36.564-07:00Love LostCan you tell me where my days went,<br />
Bright with summer sun,<br />
Can you tell me where my heart rests,<br />
Now that its buried in the ground.<br />
<br />
My wandering soul has been left all alone,<br />
With nothing to grasp but despair,<br />
My eyes can no longer see beauty,<br />
For my joy has gone away from here.<br />
<br />
Dear how can you say that you loved me,<br />
When all that you did was depart,<br />
With this void that was once where you rested,<br />
Now a memory deep in the heart.<br />
<br />
Some nights all alone I can feel you,<br />
A wandering ghost in the hall,<br />
When I cry out to you do you hear me,<br />
Or leave me to drown in your call.<br />
<br />
So I think of the days that are remaining,<br />
While my coffee grows cold in my hands,<br />
Its warmth as fleeting as a moment,<br />
And life I can no longer stand.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Ruth McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16762097218420825620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737483283111615929.post-53805738353744608072013-07-01T19:24:00.000-07:002013-07-01T19:24:16.116-07:00WallsI have seen few come and go. But those that have were close and sacred. I will never accept saying goodbye, for it is something in this life that doesn't seem fair. To love someone with everything you are, to have them be your entire world, only to be ripped away to early by something that doesn't happen to people you know. I have wept on my pillow only to wake the next morning with swollen eyes and a pounding head. I have cursed at God and denied his existence in the moments of anger and rage. I have cried for forgiveness for not saying what I should have said when I had the chance. I have painfully regretted every harsh word that ever left my mouth. I have held myself up, barely teetering on the edge of awareness of what my mind knew but my heart could not accept. If accepted, my heart would surely shatter, never to be whole again. <br />
<br />
I recall a bathroom, and stall doors, kicking at them until I felt they would fall off their hinges, and I would walk away better. That does not happen. You kick, you scream, you cry, you hurt, you deny. <br />
I will never be able to accept this. I want to be "enlightened". To know that every creature passes from this state of consciousness to the next. I am aware of this, but put it out of my mind so that I can function day to day, not worried about who will leave me next. <br />
<br />
My heart has healed, but the scars are there. I have built up a wall that functions to keep people at a safe distance. Healthy? No. But we all do it. That first gut wrenching pain never leaves us, we only learn to live with it and tone down its sound. <br />
<br />
For everything turn turn turn. Aren't those the words? I will heal, but today is the day to grieve.Ruth McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16762097218420825620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737483283111615929.post-71226803403358788672013-06-02T12:26:00.001-07:002013-06-02T12:26:11.408-07:00ThiefBlindly<br />
Carelessly<br />
freely<br />
passionately<br />
<br />
Love me<br />
Care for me<br />
Call on me<br />
Linger with me<br />
<br />
Roughly<br />
tumultuously<br />
Greedily<br />
Hungrily<br />
<br />
Take from me<br />
Use me<br />
Seek me<br />
Chase me<br />
<br />
Dont talk of things that do not make a difference<br />
Talk of things that will set me on fire<br />
Dont tempt me with sweet nothings<br />
whisper to me all the fire that I awaken in the depths of your soul<br />
<br />
Steal me away into the night<br />
never to be heard from again<br />
<br />
Place your hands around my neck<br />
and squeeze until you have drown me in you<br />
Never to be seen again by eyes that search<br />
Only to be yours in the recesses of your soul<br />
<br />
<br />Ruth McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16762097218420825620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737483283111615929.post-69112953647398786962013-04-08T06:58:00.000-07:002013-04-08T06:58:04.238-07:00A Gift From Heaven
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The plinking of the rain reminded her of the day she lost
her little girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had also been
a rainy day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
cliché, she
thought, raining on the worst day of my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She knew it had been coming for some time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Chloe had been diagnosed with leukemia when she was only
four years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
diagnosis came on the heels of the two-month anniversary of the death of
Sharon’s mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The news
literally brought her to her knees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sharon had only one other child, Matthew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She did not know how she would ever tell him that his little
sister was so sick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Chloe was unaware of how serious that doctor’s visit
was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was only four of
course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To her it was just
another check up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Leukemia meant
nothing to her and she quietly played with her snuggle bunny in the
corner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Moving his legs this way
and that, to a song she was singing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Laughing occasionally as he bent over to touch his toes and shakes his
butt with her music.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She was a sweet girl.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sharon listened intently to the rain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had gone back to Chloe’s room for
the third time that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Some days she went in often, usually just lying on her bed and clutching
the girls faded patchwork bunny that still had the mustard stain from that day
at the restaurant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chloe never
went anywhere without her snuggle bunny, and Sharon could still smell her on
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She pulled the bunny from her chest and noticed a single
strand of brown hair, which had become woven in to the bunnies’ ear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Slowly she pulled the strand of hair,
being careful not to break it. As it came free she began to think how odd it
was that she was holding a piece of her daughter, when the rest of her was
buried in the ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She recalled the day she was getting Chloe ready for her Mothers
funeral.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The girl had asked where
her Grandmother was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heaven,
Sharon had said without hesitation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She told Chloe that Grandma was probably relaxing somewhere by a river
with her husband who had died when Sharon was 8.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That Grandpa Joe was waiting for her to come home to him and
she was now out of the pain that caused her so much misery in life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now that Sharon had lost her child she wasn’t so sure that
God even existed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had been a
devout Catholic her entire life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But how could this God she had grown up loving and thinking loved her,
could let her baby be taken away before her time was done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t fair and she had cursed God lying in her bed
sobbing more times than she could count.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If he existed she hated him now in her grief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More than likely, she thought, he
didn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had been a tale to keep
people peaceful in their last hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She thought back to the hospital room in those days of her
time with Chloe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had tried so
hard to save her tears for when the girl was sleeping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could she do it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could she survive without her?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could she survive having her heart
and soul ripped from her?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
little girl that she remembered clutching to her breast after 9 hours of labor,
searching for her breast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The warm
cheek on her chest,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> t</span>he tiny
fingers she held in her hand,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> a</span>nd
above all those big brown eyes that could pierce right through you when she
stopped to give you her attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She wouldn’t do it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She wouldn’t let her die.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She was a desperate mother and miracles happened every day, She
remembered hearing so many stories of children responding to treatment and
fully recovering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her daughter was
strong she could do it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sharon
imagined telling the story of her miraculous recovery on her wedding day 20
years from now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“ I just knew
Chloe was fighter from the moment she was born” she would say and tears would
fall from everyone at the event.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She would look to her baby girl “you beat it”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But three days later Sharon would be clutching the hospital
sheets, screaming at the doctors that it was their fault,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> i</span>f only they had done more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When she finally had the strength to
rise to her feet and walk out of the room, she looked one more time at her
beautiful girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sleeping, she
thought, she’s only sleeping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
will wake up and wonder why we are all crying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It didn’t happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She walked back to her bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She held the girls chubby little fingers that she had watched so many
times color her pictures, mold her flowers out of play dough, and best of
all when they would end up on her cheeks while giving her a kiss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now they would be cold forever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She kissed her forehead, cheek,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and finally lips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Leaving her behind for the last
time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The rest of her day was a blur.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She couldn’t remember where she had gone after and she
couldn’t remember who she had seen or what condolences they had offered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She got out of Chloe’s bed and started looking around at the
girl’s things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All neatly put away,
waiting for her to get better and come home from the hospital.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It never happened, she thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sharon had started the process of healing after months of
sleeping all day,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> w</span>ondering how to
put one foot in front of the other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As she circled Chloe’s chest of toys she noticed the ballet slippers she
had bought her as a gift for Christmas one year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chloe had decided that she was going to be a ballerina.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She would twirl and jump and try to
walk on her toes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The girl loved
the slippers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sharon caught her, after she had outgrown them, putting tiny fake gems in the toes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chloe had decided that she would use it
as a treasure holder now that she couldn’t wear them anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sharon looked in the toe of the right shoe, and saw a red
plastic ruby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She picked it up and
held it to the light, remembering all the little treasures she had found over
that last year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looked in the
toe of the left shoe and saw a piece of paper that had been neatly folded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“NO” she thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had looked in these shoes more than
two dozen times and always pulled out the same red and green gems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where was the green one?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She took out the paper and there it
was, still in the toe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Slowly she unfolded the paper she had found.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How funny, Sharon had thought, pink
construction paper. Pink had always been Chloe’s favorite color.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She always had followed every stereotype
for a little girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pink, ballet,
ponies, dolls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not sure what to
expect, or even how the paper had gotten in the shoe she turned it over and
smoothed out the creases.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sharon had the breath knocked out of her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a drawing from Chloe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it was not one she had ever seen,
and she wondered how it got in the toe of the ballet slipper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the pink folded paper was a picture
of her with her grandmother and grandfather having a picnic by a river.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Under the picture it had the word Happy
written in purple crayon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sharon
fell onto her hands and knees and wept for the little girl she lost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She wept for the mother and father she
lost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But she also wept for the
joy she felt knowing that they were all taking care of each other and would
greet her when she went home.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Ruth McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16762097218420825620noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737483283111615929.post-47113993992891277242013-04-08T06:50:00.001-07:002013-04-08T06:50:20.059-07:00Hello!I have decided I want to get back into writing. So here is my new blog to help me tell my stories, fictional and non. Ruth McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16762097218420825620noreply@blogger.com0