I felt comfort and peace, realizing within a few seconds, this is what’s been missing in my life. Her presence gifted me a feeling of hope, as though ANY and EVERY problem would be solved without struggle or strife. It wouldn’t take a decade to solve a challenge that could be solved in a day, nor would it take so much pain, caused by deliberate push back.
Her caring, productive energy, so forward-thinking…I felt she truly was trying to help us, such an uplifting and inspirational energy. She usually doesn’t speak to me in my dreams, not that she needs to, but I always understand and know exactly the message she is trying to bring to me. She was standing in front of me, holding up a set of lovely curtains that she made herself, I knew this automatically, because she was quite the seamstress when she was alive. Upholstering old pieces of furniture, making them look beautiful and classic, which always blew me away. This was a natural skill she had, that I did not inherit, but always respected and admired her for it, which I told her when she was in the flesh.
Behind her was an array of curtains, of many different, styles, patterns and colours, beautiful, and looked of quality. I thought, How did she do so much work, in such a short amount of time?? And why did I assume that she had less time? This is the thing about dreams, they can immediately make sense, or have you questioning, with logic, which you’re really not supposed to do, because dreams do not always walk straight…
My spirit told me that Mom was trying to show me something, and it was beyond the curtains, so when I awoke, I made note of the dream, and made note to tell my father the next time that we speak on the phone. This was a dream that had a message for ALL of us, and she deserves reciprocity for all that she did for us, with a clean heart. I will continue in my next post, Have good night and Good sleep!
I approached the corridors slowly opening them, to make sure that there wasn’t anybody behind them, possibly sitting or laying on the floor, I didn’t know what to expect. I couldn’t help but notice the homelessness displayed in a different way than I was accustomed to, on the drive up. It bothered my spirit, when I saw a glass bus shelterfilled to the brim with a bunch of stuff, clothes, belongings, looking like a mini bachelor pad. I was taken aback, and saddened, as I pointed it out to my Aunt while she was driving.This was my first time time witnessing a fully occupied bus shelter, it looked unreal, and established, as though the city allowed it to be that way...
My eyes felt slightly heavy from not getting adequate sleep, as I continued to stress through the days and nights. I was walking, feeling as though I was semi floating, my feet felt lighter for some reason. I almost felt as though I was in a dream, what tends to happen when I end up in places, that are oh so familiar, yet a mystery. The energy and vibe of the place was sooo laid back, it felt like walking back in time, into simpler times, like the 90’s. The aroma was the first thing I first noticed,very familiar and pleasant and had a hint of sweet, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it...a lingering perfume or cologne, which was not overbearing. It reminded me of a popular scent from the 90’s, a vibe, familiar, a generic scent, that everyone was wearing back in the day, the ones that everyone would be wearing after free samples were handed out in the mall. I truly felt as though I was walking through the 90’s, it was so cool, yet so strange! lol At that moment, I definitely felt my age! I wished there was somebody with me, to ask if they recognized that throw back scent!
I made my way to the front desk, to ask for assistance as I was instructed to do, prior to my arrival, for security reasons. Guests are instructed to ask for security and take the elevator, or something of the sort, however they weren’t much help, so I continued on my own, making my way to what looked like the door to a stairwell. Yes, Bingo! I entered the stairwell, and it looked strangely familiar,the colour of the carpet, the feel beneath my feet, the texture WOW, it definitely had NOT been changed. It had an almost bouncy feel, like you could run or work out on it, looking as though it had not been changed, since the conception of this Centre. My feet quickly pranced along, and I found the door that I needed, I noticed the energy on the floor, was almost too calm, as though there had never been anybody on it. So quiet, slow-paced, laid back, helped to put me at ease, as I was not here, for leisure, I had an important, and urgent task to accomplish. The blessing in this task, brought me closer to my overall goal, and I did get a sense of closure after I left…I will continue in my next blog.
I stopped for a few seconds to take a quick pic of the stairwell, because it truly brought me back in time.
It was nice to take a different route, I love looking out of the window, seeing areas that I grew up, and haven’t seen in the longest time, until an important task or errand takes me out there. Bringing me a feeling of comfort, safety, curiosity, slight confusion, and beautiful nostalgia. I’ve felt at times as though I tripped back in time, and I’m trying to makes sense of where, what and how, I ended up in a particular place. I continue trying to piece together, pieces of my childhood that I feel as though are missing, or fragmented. I strive to figure out where they fit, like trying to complete a puzzle. I was telling my Auntie this, as we drove down the Gardiner Expressway, and I was taking in the the “Grass Art”, and the advertisement logos, that have been there from back in the day. I explained to her that every time I see them, I flash back to sitting in the back of a taxi cab, at night, gazing out of the window as cars speed by, capturing the night scene, the waterfront, the grass art, the vibe of the city. And, although, I do not know where we are going, I do not ask, and sit quiet with the rest in the back, fighting heavy eyelids, trying to stay awake, until we arrive at our destination, because waking up in an unknown place can be a tad traumatizing. Do you remember those days, as child? Falling asleep during a loooong car ride, and being woke up to a different place, space and time? As your Mom gently touches your shoulder, and rocks you to wake you up, your eyes slowly open and you felt as though you were sleeping for centuries, like a sleeping giant from from the children’s story book…
Moments and memories embedded in my soul, the city awakens in me, regardless of the occasion. We touched down many diverse spaces, due to circumstances that were beyond my control. I was innocent and not old enough to grasp the magnitude of how much we endured, along with Mom, alone, and how it must have been from Mom’s point of view. She modestly navigated areas of the city, diverse spaces, with us gathered around her, while she pushed a stroller with a small baby and a toddler, walking beside her, walking in front of her, holding her hand if she had one free to hold. Watching her carry bags, along with a baby bag, just to run a simple errand…Damn…It can be challenging doing it alone, car-less, on a tight budget, moving quickly through rush hour, on guard for personal safety, and terrible drivers! So, how did she do it everyday, all alone??
February came quick, and we’re almost near the end as the months roll by. Now we received a much anticipatedextremely HEAVY snowfall, which has put a dent in our pre-spring dreams, as daylight savings time is around the corner. Now the streets look almost unreal, like a winter wonderland, but with extra, EXTRA snow!! It’s been years since we’ve experienced this level of snow fall, I don’t remember it being this extreme, AND for days in a row. So the streets and roads don’t have time to recover. The snow continues to pile up, layering on top of large mini hills, that almost resemble mini avalanches on people’s front lawns. This winter, our below zero weather has hit down to approx -17 with the windshield, which we accepted graciously, because the lack of snow made it a lot easier to tolerate. It was only before so long that we would receive a true dose of snow that would interrupt our days, and becoming an obstacle course to navigate. I love to walking for exercise, and my daily walk is important, and imperative for my health, both mental and physical. So although the snow is a nuisance, I treat it as an add-on to a workout. I enthusiastically layer up, and leave for an hour plus walk, keeping up a brisk speed, as I listen to my favourite playlist from the 90’s, as I whisk through, and step over the mushy, unleveled, higher than ankle, snow. My destination will take me approx 2 hours, at least to go and return, hopefully safely, and I factor in the time it may take to get around the unpredictable snow accumulation in other areas. I brace myself for the bottom of my pants to get wet with snow, and my hands, gloved up, for premature frost bite, dangerous ICY patches, AND extra pressure on my legs, and knees which are not as “youthful” as they used to be! lol So, I am careful and cautious not to twist them in the unforgiving snow.
This photo was taken on the way to run errands, AFTER a few days of snow removal, and it was -7 which was tolerable enough to stop, take off my gloves, fumble with my phone, and take a decent pic.
So, I successfully made it to my destination, completed my errands really quickly, and started trekking back, on the opposite side of the street, thinking it may be a better choice. Moving strategically, to avoid slipping in the mounds of under-knee level snow. Boy, was I wrong! It was just as bad! Possibly worse, and there was no way to tell until you start walking, and turning back is NOT an option, borderline dangerous, however, you just gotta keep it moving! So, it may take me an hour to get home, but it’ll give my legs some more workout, how I can I complain?!
I restarted my playlist on one of my favourite, beautiful, inspirational and calming tunes by BabyFace, “Exceptional”, as a wisky, light, snow began to fall and winds picked up, making it difficult to see. As winds picked up, I couldn’t help but notice the elevated level of politeness and comradery between people who walking by. I made sure to stop, and give others space to get by, and they did the same, and said Thanks as they walked past me. They even made eye contact, or gave a nod, or even a smile. It was endearing, as I love good manners, and basic human regard in weather disaster times. The gracious level of patience, that we do not usually exercise on a regular day, seems to be available from the majority it matters the most! Imagine if we did this on the road while driving, regardless of the weather?!
I’m late with this post, please forgive me, I meant to post it after Father’s Day. Been going through a lot, busy, changes in my schedule, and living situation and trying my best to work around it. Regardless, I am grateful, counting my blessings everyday, and always writing nonetheless.
I notice Father’s Day on my calendar as soon as it rolls around, and make a mental note to call or text my father. Father’s day has always been slightly awkward for me since I was a child, for a few reasons. For one, my father was not with us on a consistent basis, as I’ve shared in previous blogs. He went from being a somewhat stable figure in my life, to eventually non-existent. His influence and presence seemed to become irrelevant, and I simply got used to it. After we lost it all, and he was incarcerated, there was no need to keep up with Father’s Day. I was just surviving with my Mother and siblings. We spent an adequate amount of time in women’s shelters, where Father’s Day was obviously not a priority.
I completely forgot about Father’s Day, until it came up in school. Make your father a card day! The teacher announced, and as I loved creating and arts and crafts, I was not enthusiastic. I didn’t want to feel out of place and awkward, but inside I did. I knew I couldn’t tell my teacher that I just didn’t feel like participating. I didn’t go into a category, as the few children who didn’t have a father, because their’s had passed away. They were treated in a very sensitive manner, instructed to sit at one table, and create a card or whatever they wanted. This made sense to me, and I felt empathized with those children, however I didn’t know where I stood. I had no reason to address the fact that my father was locked up, deported or whatever, yet I still felt strange…A part of me almost wanted to tell my teacher, as though I was confessing or admitting that I felt the way I did.
Continuing from the thought of protection…I was taking on a role of a protective parent,unknowingly. I innocently was trying to protect my father from having to deal with reality, the reality that I’ve lived without him. It wasn’t all roses, by any means. I took the hits for his mistakes, we all did, and there’s just no way to diminish that fact. We lived an existence that was completely based on his choices and it changed the course of our lives. Fugitives on the run, no more home, stability, safety no longer a priority. I felt vulnerable, confused but didn’t show it, none of us did. Crying, showing fear, asking why?, asking Mommy where’s daddy going? What’s going to happen to him?? Was completely out of the question. Per usual, I tried to intellectualize the situation, while considering my Mother’s point of view, remaining cool, calm and collected as expected.
I’ve wrote about this in a previous blog, we saw our house on the evening news, watched the police search the front lawns of our neighbour’s houses. I knew at THAT moment my life, our life would never be the same. Father’s role, the responsibility HE held in the situation, wasn’t even a thought, because I witnessed him be assaulted by the police. My sympathy was reserved for him, us and our Mom weren’t even a factor in my mind. Unprotected we were, and we definitely were NOT going to be protected by law enforcement. My father was no longer a part of the equation, he was a non-factor, he was irrelevant in my mind in regards to protection. We were thrown to the wolves, basically. It was just us and Mom, on our own, without our home.
Before all of this, when we had a nice, comfortable, typical middle-class living two parent home, I remember feeling protected. I distinctly remember my father showing up at our elementary school after I mentioned to him that my teacher had hit a child in my class with a “pointer stick”. Do you remember those pointer sticks with the yellow tip that teacher’s used to point a the chalk board? Well my 1st grade teacher, struck my classmate with it, after she yelling at him in front of the class for misbehaving. I was stunned, but quiet as usual, and made a mental note about it. I didn’t intend on addressing my parents about it, it casually came out of my mouth to my father. Doing as he taught me, informing him about an injustice, wrong done by an adult with authority. I felt protected and accounted for that day, especially for the fact that my father came solowithout my mother.
The story isn’t over, I’ll continue in my next post.
Continuing from the thought of, never standing a chance, weovercome, beat the odds, andmanage to maintain some form of consistent communication. We know the relationship with our father is worth the push, although we never had a fair chance. Never had experienced a consistent father, with consistent “normal” father behaviour. Please understand, I mean the basics, that a child with a present father (non-abusive), and active in their lives would expect. Knowing that he will be there in the morning when you awake, and if you ask him a simple question, he will answer and follow through on his word. He will be there most of the time, without turning his back on you out of the blue. Pretty much what we’d expect out of our mother, parenting basics.
We spend our time trying to figure out the catalyst for their offish behaviour, feeling as though we are conducting a life long case study. Accountability falls on us, and we end up blaming ourselves. I’ve realized through time, the communication line I have built with my father, is faulty. I was taking on a role of a protective parent,unknowingly. I innocently was trying to protect my father from having to deal with reality, the reality that I’ve lived without him. It wasn’t all roses, by any means. I took the hits for his mistakes, we all did, and there’s just no way to diminish that fact. We lived an existence that was completely based on his choices and it changed the course of our lives. Fugitives on the run, no more home, stability, safety no longer a priority…I’ll continue in my next blog.
Continuing from where I left off… I said, “To You, him acting up and not acting normal is considered NOT acting like a father, and to me,three square meals and a hug is a good enough!” We both chuckled.
We continued with the the topic of emotional support, we try to be emotionally supportive, regardless of the circumstance, but that is NOT a child’s responsibility. We feel responsible for their emotions, while ignoring and repressing our own. “This is why I’ve allowed so much bull**** to fly in my relationships!”, she began to explain. The pain and frustration in her voice was painful to hear. She expressed her regrets for giving the wrong people so many chances. She said she felt guilt, and that she may have unintentionally set a bad example for her children. She told me that she felt ashamed of herself for the nonsense she’s normalized. The passes she gave to people who did NOT deserve it. She said WENEVER STOOD A CHANCE! and I agreed. Your first example of what a man should look and act like, is your FATHER, Whether you realize it or not. I say this in the case that you have one, and/or remember the times he was around. I remember the first time I heard that a long time ago, from a talk show something.
I’m embarrassed to say that I used to expect inconsistent behaviour from men. Not necessarily “bad” or “good” behaviour, just inconsistent. I’ll get more into that in another blog.
A flood of texts from my bestie cousin, lead to an interesting back and forth about Fathers, and parenting. We hadn’t touched base in weeks, I was wondering how she was doing, and her messages caught me off guard. She explained a situation going on with her father with a slew of audios and texts, she was extremely upset and stressed. I was taken aback and empathized, as she told me how sad she felt. She sounded broken, more hurt than ever before, and I was moved more than ever before. We’ve always discussed this topic, regarding Father’s, and how to deal with and understand their sometimes odd behaviour. I’m trying to use the appropriate word to best describe their behaviour, and I’m having trouble pinning it…It can be random, unnecessary, difficult to dissect, and disruptive.
I was almost not going to respond, feeling I had no place to speak on it. I haven’t had a father around since I was a small child, and inconsistent at that. There are situations that I haven’t had to be in, situations that I have zero experience dealing with…Who am I to say anything??
For the longest time, I’ve thought about the fact that we feel as though we have to support them, and by support, I mean emotionally. That is not normal. We only think it is, because we’ve been conditioned by our upbringing. We witness our mother’s quietly “keep the peace”, we don’t quite understand why they aren’t speaking up, or “defending” themselves. At a younger age, we see our mother’s be passive, about things that WE even know should be addressed, or should be checked. Too young to comprehend the complex nature of adult relationships or marriage. There are convos had behind close doors, things not shown in front of children. Simply observing, confusion contradictions, seeping into our hearts, our subconscious mind, leaving a permanent impression.
I called her, and she proceeded to explain her disappointment, stating how a father “should” behave, I couldn’t help but ask her if it’s okay to interrupt. I said, “To You, him acting up and not acting normal is considered NOTacting like afather, and to me,three square meals and a hug is a good enough!” We both chuckled….To be continued.
Sorry for the delay, and for the “dabby” typo in my last post! I’m usually up writing at wee hours in the morning and that one SLIPPED me:/! I really meant daddy…Continuing from where I left off….It’s not easy explaining this, as simple as it should be, it’s quite complex and confusing. I understand that a Daddy issue, can be anyissue, or even expectation, good or bad that a woman may have tied to her relationship with her father. The angle I’m taking is slightly different than the Daddy Issue term that gets thrown around. Based upon my life experience thus far, I realized how much mixed messages I received and took on. So many of daddy’s issues I felt responsible for, ones he shared with me, thus aging my mind and soul. I always felt as though I was five going on fifty, understanding an adult’s issues oh too well, feeling as though I was the gatekeeper for his secrets and flaws. I truly felt responsible for his pain, and I never really knew why. All I knew is that, I believed his every word, trusted and adhered to his instructions on what not to do, the bad things that he said hedid that destroyed him inside. I listened as though I was a university student at a lecture. He wasn’t around all the time, so I figured this was important to him, I’d better listen! I showed him the respect that he deserved, yet with a child’s mind thinking, CAN I GO PLAY NOW??? Lol
Dawn Lovely says.................. 