About my father...

My memory might fail me, but I think it had been a year or more since my dad had died. I was on the bus, riding from Callao y Santa Fe towards where we used to live, Congreso. Behind me sat two older gentlemen engrossed in the kind of conversation that older people have: about things past, how they were and how much everything has changed.

At some point, one of them asked his friend if he remembered Dr. Neumayer, the physician who had established a swimming record back in I don't remember what year. My heart filled with pride, as I tried my hardest to hear what these men had to say... and it seemed to be nothing but praise.

What sticks most in my mind is that it was a moment in time when it was confirmed in my head that my dad had indeed been a "great one". And, for some reason, it is the voice of strangers that provides you with the most conviction when your memory is clouded by what life had been like at home. Personal failings aside, he had earned the respect of many, and although they never saw him crying and screaming for my mother on the floor of our living room, in their eyes he was a greater man than many others.

I don't have any particular feelings about this at the moment, as a matter of fact I feel a bit numb. I have had my moments when I held him up in a pedestal, and my moments when I wanted to change my name, so as not to carry his with me. I now don't know what I feel. Loving with all abandon can leave you open for disappointment, loving above all failings can make you feel foolish, and loving with restraint can make it feel less real. God knows I want to love him, but I just don't know how.

G

Love, its shapes and sizes

I heard a voice today on the other end of the phone that I never thought I would hear again. It was Alejandrina, one of my childhood friends.

Ale and I were close when we were little. I had other "BFFs" but I remember spending the night at her house on many occasions, and yes, I loved hanging out with her and playing but another very important reason for me to want to stay the night at her home was her mother.

If there was ever a woman who taught me how to show love to a child it was Ale's mom. She would shower me with hugs, kisses goodnight, and always told me how much she loved me as if I were her own. She would even tell me that she could easily adopt me as her own without any hesitance. She made me feel so incredibly special and would even call my mom to sing my praises, telling her how amazing I was and how much she loved me. She was really like a second mother to me.

I think around the 3rd grade (although Ale said it was much later, like in the 6th grade), Ale's mom was going on a road trip with her boyfriend, whom Ale hated. Ale begged her not to go because she was afraid she was going to die. Her mom told her to stop being silly, that nothing would happen and asked why she felt that way, since she had been on many trips and it was never a problem. I remember all this so clearly, as I was there when they had that talk and I remember my friend being angry at her mom for leaving. The next day (or maybe a couple of days later) I went to school as usual, and many (if not all) of the girls in my class were crying. I asked Oshi why she was crying, which surprised me as Oshi was Japanese and hardly ever showed emotion, she was always very composed and in control. She then told me that Ale's mom had been in a car accident and had died.

I started giggling, and then outright laughing, saying "no she didn't!". My brain kept telling me "STOP LAUGHING YOU IDIOT, she died and everyone's crying! You should be upset!", but for some reason the laughing wouldn't stop. It was the strangest reaction but one I could not help. I suppose that's what happens when you go into some sort of shock, but I was ashamed and embarrassed and couldn't talk about the whys of my reaction. I don't remember clearly what happened next, but I do remember that Alejandrina's dad pulled her out of our school and took her away to a different town. We never heard from her again.

Through the years, I thought about Ale, her mom, and her brother and felt really sad for her. She didn't like her father at all and was very miserable with him. I looked for her every so often on the Internet, on MySpace, on any kind of people search, anywhere I could think of.

Then, a few days ago she friend requested me on Facebook. To hear her voice again sent me to immediate tears. I cannot explain the feeling, as I know no name for it. Almost like a mixture of nostalgia, peace, love, bittersweetness, longing and happiness, but even all that doesn't cover it. We spoke for a really long time and she told me of what she had to endure at the hands of her abusive father. How she wasn't allowed to answer the phone an he had gotten rid of all the phonebooks she had. She wasn't even allowed to see her mother's family. Although she eventually left her dad's, was married and had four kids, she also lost a baby girl of 2 years old, her mother's namesake, who also died in a car accident on the same day as her mother... some day in November, I think about ten years ago...

Ale is now a very strong woman, and talking to her gave me tremendous amounts of peace. I so wanted to hug her, to get on a plane right away so I could see her, as so much of how she looks now reminds me of her mom, sans the reading glasses that were always on her face.

In the best way I knew how, I told her that her mother made a huge impact on my life. That every time I show any child that I love them, I go about it the same way her mother did. And I hope that, just like her mom, I make them feel incredibly special and that love is and should be unconditional. Her mother was the brightest star.

Celina, for the short time I knew you, you gave me a gift that I could never repay you while you were alive. But know that in my memory and in my heart you will live forever, with those glasses on your nose and a smile that's never ending. I love you still, so very much. And the love I have for you is now for Ale. I hope I won't lose touch with her again, as I'm not sure such a loss repeated is something my heart could bear.

Keep an eye on us, and shower us with your love from Heaven.

All my love,

Gabriela

Changes...

I've thought to change the name of this blog so many times, but... I'm still in a city and, well...

The name stays.

I now live with my 2 children, 4 dogs, 6 chickens, 1 rabbit, 1 rat, 1 mouse and 1 frog. No, never mind, the frog moved out yesterday or the day before, I don't remember, but his name is now Steve. Oh, and of course John lives here too.

But John has been gone a long time. He went to London for a tune-up. He keeps saying he'll be back in a week and the weeks keep passing by and no John. I'm actually very happy here with just the kids, but we do miss John. Benny misses him most of all, I think. I hope he's doing well (as he says) and he'll be able to get back to the US with no problems.

Life has been so rich lately, all thanks to Facebook. I have re-connected with people I never thought I'd see again. Alejandrina Solá Y Paz... Wow... I've been dying to hear about her for so long I don't even remember. Her and Ursula Welsz, but I've only found Ale, and just today she accepted my friend request. I hope I can talk to her tomorrow. After all, it was her mother who gave me so much love when I was little, and then she died in a car accident. I remember when Viviana Oshi(?) told me about the accident and I started laughing. I was in such shock, I kept saying "No she didn't die!" and laughing nervously. My brain kept telling me to stop laughing, that it wasn't funny, but my reaction was the opposite. Ale's mom was an amazing woman, and when I saw photos of Ale on Facebook today, I saw her mom in her face. All that was missing was the reading glasses...

I really can't wait to talk to her. I wonder if she has any photos of her mom to share. I need to tell her how the love her mom showed me is the exact same I try to show other children today. That when I want to make a child feel welcome, accepted and loved I think of and channel Ale's mother. I wonder why she loved me so much, as she would tell my mom...

Oh, my gosh!! I also saw Sister Rose on Facebook, who was the very scary nun at St. Dominic's ("Chica!") with the big blue eyes and big boobs... I was soooo scared of her! Anyway, not sure she's still a nun as there is a photo of her in a bathing suit and no signs of a habit... She sent me a message in reply to mine that she remembers me and my mother well. Of course, my mom lived at St. Dominic's when she left my dad and the nuns and priests were her roommates... She always said she had a great time while she lived there. I called my mom and asked her about it after I got the reply from Sr. Rose (Dymphna Tipper now) and she didn't even remember ever having lived there...

Her brain is definitely going. I wonder if she'll get to where she doesn't remember me either.

Time to click "Publish Post". Goodnight.

My own little corner

I should probably change the name of my blog, it seems old and slightly stale now...

Anyhoo, this week I found a TON of people I had been looking for for years. I kept a "lost" list of people on my phonebook, just so maybe someday I could find them. Maybe I subconsciously knew that God would inspire someone to invent a venue such as Facebook, but whatever it was it felt as if I had gone on a trip on a time machine and reconnected. Except now everyone looks older.

It has been over 2 years since Stefan and I separated. It still seems strange to type his name and the rest of that sentence, as I never thought that would happen... but things happen and the world keeps turning, the sun comes up and goes down and the moon makes its appearances... everything continues on.

The more distance grows between what it was and what it is, makes me think of what my marriage had become, and it just didn't seem to be what was the ideal marriage, and I mean for me in particular, not just anybody else.

I'm sure many women could have seen it through. Unfortunately, I'm not made that way. I describe it as "starving and having a beautiful cake in front of you, but not being able to eat it". I used to have romantic dreams about George Clooney (as some people know well) when I was married, probably because I was in desperate need of some sort of attention. The funny thing is that now that I'm completely alone I no longer have those dreams, and I'm sure one would think they would be more prevalent now... not so. It is so very difficult to long for the person you love, the one you are with, that for some reason or another you just don't get enough of. His time and attention became so desirable, that even now when he talks to me and we have an actual conversation, I almost become nervous, sort of anxious... and I think I trained myself that way. In my head I keep wondering what I should say so as not to lose the connection, or if I'm saying something he would consider boring, unimportant...

This is not a dynamic I want to exist between us, but it's also not one I know how to undo. It's definitely not something I want my children to get used to, but they are also in that situation as their time spent with their dad is a bit of a commodity.

Ugh. I hate my writings anymore. I wish I had better stuff (funnier, lighter) to write about, but I'm saving all the light, funny stuff for when I'm with my kids, and what goes on here is just me venting.

My own little corner of the world.

My girls, the chicks

Chelsea and Peeps. What amazing girls... I can't believe more people don't have chickens for pets.

We got them as babies, and although we didn't get to imprint them right out of the egg, in time they learned to "love" me. Nowadays, they walk up to me when they see me coming, and when I lean over to pet them, they do this weird thing with their wings, where they sort of spread out their backs and get down lower to the ground... hard to explain, but they stay there until I'm done petting them. I can also pick them up without a problem or any hesitation. So much so, that I pick one up, then get the other one with just one hand...

So of course, being me and not even being able to fight my impulses, I took both girls in my arms and walked across the street to visit my neighbors. I think I mostly did it to see their faces once they opened their door. They hadn't been home in a long time (months) so when the husband opened the door I got my priceless mental photo. Ahh... to live in a somewhat swanky neighborhood and walk around with 2 chickens in your arms.

So... my girls are awesome. They love me, they are lovable, they fertilize my garden, they don't take up a lot of space and best of all... they give us the best eggs in the world I've ever tasted.

And NO. For those of you who don't know, we are NOT eating baby chickens. These are only eggs, not fertilized by a rooster. Just EGGS. No babies.

Start by admitting...

... from cradle to tomb, it isn't such long a stay...

Why is it that the older one gets the faster time goes by???? UGH!!!

I know I've written about this before, but I am really in disbelief about the speed in which time moves. Facebook has been a horrible reminder of this, as it is a little like a time warp. I knew these people "yesterday" and today some of them are grandparents... WTF?? And their photos... oh, their photos! Whatever happened to us?

But, hey... I still like myself better today at 44. I look older, yes, but if being young again means I would have that 20-year-old brain again, no THANK YOU. Not even my 30-year-old brain would do. I am very content with the 44 years I've accumulated and I'm not ashamed to admit I still have a lot more to learn, and to grow, and to live...

I'm almost to the exact middle of my forties, and my mom was right. So far, they are the best years of my life... absolutely, hands down.

Shoot, I have to go to the Office Depot for Bala. Seemingly, he needs erasable pens NOW.

Dear ME, this is not possible...

How can it be?

For the past 2 years, my kids have been staying with their dad for 2 days at a time (sometimes less) every 2 days whenever he is in town. At first, having to let them go literally felt like someone was ripping my heart to shreds. The pain I felt was unbearable, and it took some time for me to not cry every time I said "bye" to them.

Now, two years later, things have changed somewhat. Or have they really? There are times when crying unconsolably does take over my being and I'm rendered useless until I see them again. Sometimes, the mere knowledge that they will be leaving at some point that day sends me into a depression. Then, there are the times when I know they will be leaving, but I can think of 1,000,000 things I will do the moment they are gone. Things that interest me, things that are responsibilities, even things that are downright fun. Then... they leave.

No sooner is the car driving away, that a cloud of sadness starts to follow me, and every time it's the same damn thing: I walk into my house, sit on the couch and do mind-numbing things like play video games, or get lost in Facebook so I just don't think about anything. I try. God knows I try to occupy my mind, but it's their presence -- or lack of that zaps my energy. It's an underlying feeling that I just cannot shake. And there is nothing I can do to stop it.

I don't know how I will ever stop this nonsense. I see other moms who are more "normal" and who can find things to do, to occupy themselves in this free time. Some of them are even grateful to have the time to themselves, and even I sometimes think it would be wonderful to just be on my own... but when the time comes I just can't function.

I haven't re-read this post. I'm just venting. Now I'll publish it and hope to somehow cheer up.

GOD I MISS THEM.