"Some people hear voices.. Some see invisible people.. Others have no imagination whatsoever." - Author Unknown.


Friday, November 4, 2011

Creativity In Action

A good read.
An old Italian gentleman lived alone in New Jersey . He wanted to plant his annual tomato garden, but it was very difficult work, as the ground was hard. His only son, Vincent, who used to help him, was in prison. The old man wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament:
A good read.
An old Italian gentleman lived alone in New Jersey . He wanted to plant his annual tomato garden, but it was very difficult work, as the ground was hard. His only son, Vincent, who used to help him, was in prison. The old man wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament:

Dear Vincent, I am feeling pretty sad because it looks like I won’t be able to plant my tomato garden this year. I’m just getting too old to be digging up a garden plot. I know if you were here my troubles would be over. I know you would be happy to dig the plot for me, like in the old days. Love, Paopa

A few days later he received a letter from his son.

Dear Papa, Don’t dig up that garden. That’ s where the bodies are buried. Love, Vinnie

At 4 a.m. The next morning, FBI agents and local police arrived and dug up the entire area without finding any bodies. They apologized to the old man and left. That same day the old man received another letter from his son.

Dear Papa, Go ahead and plant the tomatoes now. That’s the best I could do under the circumstances.
Love you,
Vinnie
---------------- via Maher Zain.
The moral of the story is: Wherever there is a will, there is a way - so never lose hope :)

Thursday, September 8, 2011

This Morning

A cool breeze floats in through my bedroom window
carrying in with it the muted sounds of the traffic and chirping birds
I am straddling a dream
half in
half out
you and I
holding hands
fingers entwined
strolling down Wellesley Road
our destination,
Leven Promenade
gradually the sounds of the traffic are no longer muted grow louder
and our entwined fingers fade away..
... you slip away from me... left behind in my dream
as I am brought back into my empty room
wrapped in the chill of loneliness



¸¸.•*¨*••*¨*•.¸¸❤¸¸.•*¨*❤*¨*•.¸¸❤¸¸.•*¨*••*¨*•.¸¸

Saturday, August 6, 2011

I Loved You In Life. I Love You In Death.

Matthew -and- Our Shared Little Love Interest, Milo


Your heart that's been stilled and silenced
Beats on in mine

My Love
My Soul-Mate

I loved you In Life
I Love You In death,

I'll Love You In eternity.


Friday, July 22, 2011

Loss....

I drove David (my son)  down to his local Union Hall this morning for a class. But first he wanted to stop at BP to get coffee. While I was sitting in the car waiting for him I noticed two older men standing on the walkway chatting & drinking their coffee...the one man looked  just like Matthew, my deceased husband, his eyebrows, mannerisms, the way he was drinking his coffee, his hairline... I was mesmerized.   He caught me staring at him so I apologized & explained.  He was very sweet about it.  But now it's set the mood for the day...For the life of me, I. Just. Can. Not.  get past Matthew's Death.   'Grief' is like being marooned on a deserted island... a very lonely place.