Wednesday, October 31, 2012

A Letter to Danny - October 31, 2012

Hi Honey.

Do you have any idea how hard this time of year is for me?

I remember exactly what we were doing this time last year.  We were painting our bedroom, making it comfortable for the long winter that was ahead of us.  You were so positive Honey.  You just knew everything was going to be okay.  You worked so hard in getting the sheetrock up in the utility room and getting it mudded. 

Halloween of last year we had Chase over tending him while the kids worked at the Spook Alley. 

Honey,  I had no idea that in two weeks the love of my life would be gone.  I had no idea that I would not be sleeping in that room we were painting nor doing laundry in the room you had worked so hard on. 

I had no idea I only had two weeks to tell you that I love you.  Two weeks to fix you the things you liked to eat.  Two weeks to bring you your Pepsi.  Two weeks to watch the shows we liked to watch on TV.  Two weeks to lay by your side while we both read, your cute little glasses perched on the end of your nose.  Two weeks to drive to North Pole and pick up your medicine from Safeway Pharmacy.  Two weeks to go to the Bakery and get your biscuits and gravy.  Two weeks to try and get your feet warm.  Two weeks to listen as you called your brother and sisters to tell them that you were getting better everyday.  Two weeks to smell your Old Spice cologne.  I didn't know Honey.  I didn't know.

And now I know.  And now I know and it hurts so bad. 

Did I tell you I love you enough?  Did I tell you how proud I was of you with how you dealt with your sickness?  How you didn't give in and you didn't give up?  Did I tell you how thankful I was that you always had my back and that I knew I always had you to talk to, to confide in.  Did I tell you that I was glad to be married to a man with morals and standards.  I hope I did Honey.  For right now, I don't think I told you enough. 

If I didn't Honey.  Please know that I did all those things and more. 

Please know that I truly will love you

Far Beyond the 12th of Never.

Susie

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

I Don't Want to be Fair

I Don't Want to be Fair
Copyright 2012 - Susie Whiting


V1:
"House for Sale By Owner"
The sign's stuck down in the lawn.
I drive by in my pickup
Numb to what is going on.

Proceeds split 50/50
that's what in the decree.
But you can keep 100%
of the heart inside of me.

Chorus:
I don't want to be civil
I wanna go insane over you.
Be crazy in love
And do what crazy ones do.

I don't want to be fair.
I'll give you all that I own.
I want life to be us
and not be all alone.

I don't want you gone.  I want you right here.
I don't want to be civil.  I don't want to be fair.

V2:
How can the dreams we both had
be divided in two
With half going to me
and half going to you.

Do we erase our tomorrows
so there's none tallied in.
Are you feeling your half
of the pain that I'm in.


Chorus:
I don't want to be civil
I wanna go insane over you.
Be crazy in love
And do what crazy ones do.

I don't want to be fair.
I'll give you all that I own.
I want life to be us
and not be all alone.

I don't want you gone. I want you right here.
I don't want to be civil. I don't want to be fair.

Monday, October 29, 2012

A Letter to Danny - October 29, 2012

Hello Honey:

This will be a hard time of year this year for me.  It is getting so close to the time you left me.  It was just a year ago that I was trying to find a place for us to live.  We had stayed in our trailer house as long as possible, but the cold temperature was making staying much longer an impossibility.  I worried if we were going to be able to afford the rent on what I brought home.  I worried if we would be able to afford the price of fuel to heat a house.  I worried that you would be warm enough.  You were so cold now that it was hard to keep you warm enough.   was once told that 90% of what a person worries about never comes to be.  I reminded myself of that when I was worrying so much. 

I called you and told you when I got back home to Alaska, I would rent again the house we had lived in in Salcha.  The rent had been reduced and I thought we would be able to afford the heating bill.  You told me "Don't worry about it.  A lot of things can happen between now and then."

Oh honey, I didn't know just how much would happen in that short amount of time.  Everything I had worried about never came to be.  You would leave and I would end up moving in with Mark during the cold of winter, and then with Shannon in Alaska during the summer.  I didn't need to worry about rent, or the cost of fuel anymore.  But what a high price that peace of mind cost me.  I would trade losing you for it. 

I don't know where you are or what you are doing now, my love.  Oh I know.  People always tell me you are with God or you are in heaven and I know that.  But I also know you would not be content to be idle.  You could never be idle.  Even when you felt so awful, you always had work you needed to get done.  What is your work there, Honey?  Are you working on the road crews?  Are there utility lines that need buried or is there hay to be hauled?  Or are you chain-saw carving bears and turtles, owls or walking sticks from diamond willow.  Or do you have another job?  Are you watching over me and your children and your grandchildren.  Are you close by trying to guide us down the road that will one day lead us to where you are?

Wherever you are my love, remember this.  Our souls were both cut from the same star.  Wherever you are, a part of me is with you.  I know this, because I can feel it inside me.  I can feel an emptiness that sits right below my heart.  The emptiness is real.  I believe when you left me, a part of my spirit went with you.  The silver cord that bound us pulled apart my spirit when you left.

You are still in my prayers Honey.  I pray that wherever you are, you are happy.  I pray that wherever you are, you know that I still love you with all my heart, that you are always on my mind, and that I thank God for the life I was able to spend with you.

I love you Honey.

Far Beyond the 12th of Never.

Susie




Sunday, October 28, 2012

Love Doesn't End with a Kiss Goodbye

Love Doesn't End With a Kiss Goodbye
Copyright 2012-Susie Whiting
V1:
An empty chair and empty table
A phantom shadow on the wall.
I walk the world with only strangers
For you’re no longer here at all.

I feel me start to stumble
for my emotions step on air.
Like the waves lean on the sea
I leaned on you but you’re not here.

Chorus:
I want to disappear in yesterday.
When you were here and all was right
We were two souls cut from the same star
But now one soul has taken flight
Love doesn’t end with a kiss goodbye.
My love won’t end with this kiss goodbye.

 V2:
Moonlight on our bed will fade away
Even the stars desert the sky.
The greatest storms turn into nothing
And only God can tell you why.

I’m broken but I’m breathing
As I hear the evening sigh
With no choice I’ll let you go
But love won’t end with my goodbye.

Chorus:
I want to disappear in yesterday.
When you were here and all was right
We were two souls cut from the same star
But now one soul has taken flight
Love doesn’t end with a kiss goodbye.
My love won’t end with this kiss goodbye.

Sunday, October 21, 2012

A Letter to Danny - October 21, 2012

Hello Honey:

I have a lot of time on my hands now.  Time to think over our life together.

Falling in love is temporary insanity and was I ever insane over you.  In the dark of night when I think back to being sixteen years old and falling in love with you, I can still feel those old feelings in this old heart of mine.  I bet my grandchildren cannot fathom their grandmother feeling the same feelings back then, that they feel today.  Oh Honey.  They know so little about you and me.

Looking back, eighteen years old was so young to take on the responsibility of marriage.  But, I loved you and that was all that mattered at the time.  There was so much you didn't know about me back then; things that would take our lifetime together for you to find out.

My mom was a widow, who had grown hardened by life and men.  Her first husband died leaving her with seven children to raise on her own.  Then, marrying my dad, only to have him become terminally ill, once again left her to fend for herself and her children.  She was tough because that is what life created in her.  You just didn't know.

When we were first married, you had misconceptions of me.  Why you didn't voice these misunderstandings before we were married, I don't know.  Maybe you feared losing me as much as I did you.  You thought that my being raised by a single mom built in me the idea that a woman didn't need a man, and with this notion, your insecurities grew.  Because you harbored those thoughts, you didn't want Mom to influence my life as your wife and as a result, you didn't want me to have her in my life.

I tried to explain to you that my Mom accepted you.  She was so impressed with you.  You had told her that someday you wanted to build your family construction company into a major one, and she recognized your ambiiton.  She would comment that even in your contractor work clothes, you still looked well groomed.  She said she knew you would take care of me.  You see Honey, she didn't want me to have a life like her's either.

I tried to explain to you, I didn't want to be independent like my mom.  I didn't want to wake up in the morning knowing I was alone.  I didn't want to go out to go to work and find my car with a flat tire and know if it got fixed, I would need to fix it myself.  I didn't want to raise my children alone and not have the help of their father.  I didn't want to be tough.  I didn't want to be hard.  But you just didn't understand.  You thought that if I was around her, I would be like her.  Honey, you didn't understand that I was who I was because of her.  She was the one who molded the girl you fell in love with.  But to prove how much I loved you, I quit calling her.  I didn't invite her over nor did I visit her.  Surely then, you would see that it was you I wanted to be with.  But what you didn't understand was that at night when all was quiet, I would lay and worry about her.  I would worry she was there, alone and not know how much I loved her and appreciated her.  I would pray she would know that I was thinking of her and that I had not deserted her, for she was still very much in my heart.  I was torn between the two people I loved most in the world; not wanting to let either of you down. 

I was eighteen years old and married that brisk autumn day as I walked down the same street I had once walked when I had gone to school.  The maple trees that lined the street were decked in leaves of reds, golds and yellows.  Some of the leaves losing their grip, floated gently to the ground to swirl around my feet.  I recalled walking this street with my girlfriends, laughing and singing and sharing our dreams of what we envisioned our lives to be.  The golden brown of the horse chestnuts sparkled in the autumn sun, and as I reached down and picked one up, a tear found it's way down my cheek.  It was then I realized, I had thrown away my youth.

I wiped away the tear and placed the same hand over my stomach where my child rested just below my heart.  The autumn breeze kissed my cheek and a smile replaced the tear.  Everything would be okay.

I loved you and would love you

Far Beyond the 12th of Never



Friday, October 19, 2012

A Letter to Danny - October 19 2012

Hi Honey:

I heard someone say the other day that when a person dies, people forget all about the bad that happened and puts that person on a pedestal.

I haven't done that Honey.  My memory is too good to forget about all the really bad times we had along the way.  The dramas we created for ourselves and those thrust upon us by others could have sent either one of us packing many times.  When I was asked what held us together, I answered that we both didn't fall out of love at the same time.

The fine line that separates love and hate is just that...a very fine line.  There were times we both walked that line like a tight-rope walker, struggling to stay balanced, tipping this way and that.  But someway Honey, we both ended up falling off and back to the "love" side.

If I had a scale, and put our bad times on one side and our good times on the other, would they balance or tip this way or that?  Does it matter?  I don't think so.

It is the trials of life that turns a person into who he or she is.  It's creates the being of that person.  Trials can make one grow bitter and hard and resentful, or create the opposite.  I don't think it is any different with a couple.  The things we went through, I know for certain, could have dissolved the commitment of other couples; they would have turned their backs and walked away.

We opened the door many times; the door that either of us could have walked out of, but our love for each other kept closing it before our steps fell over the threshold.

I honestly feel our love was unique; something stronger than the storms we faced.  I truly feel you were my soul mate; that I was born to be with you and you with me, come what may.

Then, on November 13, 2011 a door opened for you and you walked through it, closing it behind you.  That wasn't very nice of you.

Like I said, my love.  I feel I was born to be with you in this life and if that is so, then I will be with you in the next.

So listen for my knock on the door of the place you now call home (or have you left it open for me?)  That fine line of love and hate is no longer wobbly.  My steps walk solidly on the side of love.

I love you Honey,

Far Beyond the 12th of Never.

Susie

Saturday, October 13, 2012

A Letter to Danny - October 13, 2012

Hi Honey:

It was three years ago at this time, we arrived in Alaska.

As I sit here at Sheree's, I remember stopping here on our way north.  Jon and the boys worked so hard at getting our things wrapped in a canvas tarp and strapped down good and tight on top of our trailer house.

By time we got into Montana, the wind had whipped our tarp to pieces and snow was getting into everything we had.  Your swelling prevented you from climbing up on top and rearranging everything, so that left only me...the one who is afraid of heights.

I climbed up, with the snow blowing in my face, and carefully tied a rope onto our items and lowered them down to you to put in our trailer house and on the back of your truck.

We made it through Alberta without anymore problems, but outside of Watson Lake we hit such a storm and the roads were slick.  The trailer house slid off the side of the road and got stuck.  In your attempt to get it back on the road, you blew one of the dual tires on your truck.

I was driving my car in front of you, and when I hit a patch of ice and did a doughnut without intending too, I wondered if we were going to make it or not.  When we made it to Whitehorse, I was insistent we buy chains for my car but you convinced me we wouldn't need them, that the worse was behind us.  You were right Honey. The rest of the way was fine and we arrived in Alaska to sunshine.

I compare my life now, to that trip.  The worst is behind me.  The worst was losing you.  I will see the sunshine again, when I am with you again.  Until then, I will just keep driving.  I will keep focused on the road in front of me.  I will look at the sunrise and sunsets, smell the rain on the hot pavement, listen to God as He speaks to me through all He has created.   And in listening to God, I will also hear your voice, for you so loved His creations.

The road of my life has once again brought me to Idaho.  I look out and see the Tetons and I remember you.

I love you Honey.

Far Beyond the 12th of Never

Susie

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

A Letter to Danny - October 10, 2012

Hi Honey:

The day was golden today, the kind of autumn you loved so much.  The quaken asp are yellow, the pines are green and the scrub oak is rust, oranges and red.  Lola and I rode over Alpine Loop and down into Heber Valley.  The mountainsides were an aray of color.  God knows how to paint beautiful pictures.  Of course, being there in the mountains you loved so much, made me miss you and long for all the times we traveled the dirt rodes of your mountains.

A while back, Mark took his trailer house to Strawberry.  He was trying to find the perfect place to park it when he said, "If Dad were here I could call him and ask him where the best place would be, and he could tell me.  He knew every road and turn off." 

It was all around me today, the colors against the azure sky and I tried to grab hold of it like I use too.  But then I realized that the colors will never be quite as bright as they once were.  Because my darling, you were what added the color to my life.

I understand Honey.  I understand that you do not want pain to be your legacy to me.  So I will swallow it and I will live and I will try to make the most of this life of mine without you.  But forgive me if I miss you when spring gives birth, spreading the mounains and valleys with shades of green, when a a summer's rainstorm sends its cool drops onto hot cement or when the winter winds blow the new fallen snow into swirls and drifts leaving it sparkling under the porch and street lights. 

Know that I see you in the stars that light up the night sky.  I hear you in the brook that makes its busy way across the cobblestones, and in the call of the greenhead mallards flying in their formation across the chilled air of fall. 

And if you listen closely, you can hear me whisper "I love you" as I gaze at and listen to those things you loved so much.

My day has come to an end my darling, so I will slip my arms into your shirt and imagine you are holding me, and hope that perhaps by chance, in the dark of night I will see you once again in my dreams.

I love you Honey.

Far Beyond the 12th of Never.

Susie

Sunday, October 7, 2012

A Letter to Danny October 6, 2012

Hello Honey:

Without thinking, I opened the door in my memory tonight.  Inside was a shelf and on it sat simple things that made you you; simple things that made me love you.

The shelf was painted a steel blue; the same color that you painted your shop floors.  On it sat a variety of things. 

There was a bottle of Vicks and I can smell it as I write.  There sits a glass coffee pot over a lit candle.  It's the one we had when we were first married and we would sit it on the coffee table and have our coffee with cherry pie.  There sits a bottle of apricot jam.  How you loved it with your toast. 

There's a nickle laying there.  It's the same nickle you pushed down behind Mama's headstone when we buried her.  When I asked you why you put it there you said "When I'd ask Mother MaCree how she was doing, she would always say she wasn't worth a nickel.  I want her to know she is."

There's a package of bologna, a ripe tomato, miracle whip and a salt shaker.  Remember all the times I would fix us a bologna sandwich for a midnight snack and you would tell me no one made bologna sandwices like I did. 

There's a cresent wrench and a screw driver and a roll of duct tape.  You could fix just about anything with those.

There's your little black mustache kit that you had when you grew your mustache out about six inches on each side.  You were so proud of it as you twirled the ends into a curl.

There's the cookie you would feed to Whoa Baby.  She was such a cute "fat" horse.  You would say "Do you want this?" and she would nod her head. 

In the background I can smell diesel fuel, motor oil and gasoline.  They were such a part of what made you you.

Sometimes, I find myself trying to put locks on the cabinets that house those shelves in my mind.  It's something I do for self preservation, for to open them and review all the little things tears open the wounds you left in my heart.  But there are other times I need to open the doors and gaze and smell and feel, for if I do, you are with me again.

I miss you honey.  I love you.

Far Beyond the 12th of Never

Susie