Each time that I have come here to write I have stopped and deleted it, not ready yet to write about anything. I have been either cocooned or running the roads each day; thinking and walking and talking as if nothing has changed, yet so much has. Getting older is inevitable yet we never seem to think it will happen to us. We will all die and yet our society does nothing to prepare us for death or how to deal with the loss of loved ones or friends.
It's always a shock, even when we know the diagnosis or expect it because the person is getting older. Some people we even wish would die, so that they wouldn't suffer more or because they have taken the last train to Crazy Town and will never know who you are again. It hurts and how we choose to deal with that pain reveals a lot about ourselves. You always feel like you are alone, but if you talk about it with friends you quickly discover that everyone has a story about losing someone and you know it is part of life.
My birth Mother put me on a bus to my Father when I was 5 years old and never really wanted a relationship with me. We had plenty of chances over the years but it was always difficult to be in the same space as she was, knowing that she could never explain why she made that choice and that I wanted more from her than she could ever give. We were strangers. Right up until she died. She could have tried to say goodbye but she didn't.
I have spent months thinking about it and am finally at a place where I can breath freely without the knot tight in my throat, choking my words and taking my energy and joy. I have grown and am at peace. I figured out a lot of stuff that I really didn't know had been bugging me all these years and I feel lighter. Stronger. Free. People often don't know what to say when you tell them your Mother died or your son died- they are dumb struck and quickly recover with soft words of sorrow and sweetness. It's not easy to talk about. I haven't really wanted to. It was too difficult to explain. Now, you know I love zombies, vampires, ghost stories and lean toward the dark shadows that dwell in my heart. I have always had a bit of the macabre about me. Spiders and mice, skulls and black cats don't scare me. I believe in heaven and hell and demons and God. You cannot have the light without the dark.
I am sentimental and love Victorian memento mori to death. My sense of humor has returned and I wake up each day with a happy heart. It took a while but I feel ready to return to my lovely little Blog and share some crafty exploits with you all. I used to write everyday and that was so therapeutic. I am still walking everyday and am getting ready for the big craft show I do each year in Dec and will post about some things I will have for sale there.
So many good things have happened to me because of this Blog and the friends I have in Blogland have helped me stay sane and feel loved. My life wouldn't be the same without this and you and so thank you for being here. For being patient. For being kind. In a life spent with family members who would rather not love me, I am glad to have a connection with those of you who share a love for textiles, quilting, embroidery, and share that friendship with me. Searching for the right words, feeling rusty, ready to come out and play. Maybe now I can get back on track.
Finishing things is a satisfying and rewarding feeling isn't it? This bag has been thumbing it's nose at me for a year and finally she is finished.
Time to go make dinner.
Thanks for stopping by, checking to see if I am still alive.
I am.
with love, calamity kim























































































































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