The Wedding March, Second Take!

IMG_5386I was visiting Venezia in October and it was fascinating to see a bridal party just strolling around Piazza San Marco. Perhaps, searching for the perfect place to take their once in a lifetime “now forever hold your peace, so help me God” pictures or on their way to a honeymoon suite, on one of, if not The romantic city in the world. Then, it got me thinking…

It was set in motion by a few words I left on a joint bachelor/bachelorette party guest book. As I was inscribing the words, I reminisced about my own wedding, unconventional to some but ordinary to a few, to the “a deux” individuals who opt to elope into You May Kiss The Bride Vegas quickie style wedding thus beginning the poem.

IMG_5387For your reason and yours alone, you decide on a quick and spontaneous celebration of your union, to the more elaborated and orchestrated event of balloon, flower, flower girl, ring bearer, designer dress/tuxedo, quick steps dance menu, ten bridesmaids… ooff, I am exhausted just thinking about it, to later move on to “what was I thinking?” category when a sad and lonely “imaginary” picture of the two of you appear in the corner of the local newspaper.

Whatever suits you!

You enjoy the romantic moment, precious or not, you learn to guard it as yours but are never exhausted to recount it to those who wholehearted chase the account. Meaning, the tattlers.

It is the moment you designed. Everyone sitting around the bonfire, sipping Long Island Iced Teas and the two of you telling a story. Cool huh?! Not but in the imaginary world of make believe, it actually happened.

IMG_5388The story however, becomes fascinating to the prying ears, particularly when there are no witnesses to the event other then you and your mate, and the officiating individuals.

What was it like? Did you cry? Did you throw the bouquet? What was your dress like, your tuxedo? Who officiated it? Did you have a maid of honor, best man? How did you celebrate?

Nope! Zilch! Nada… None of the above and I have a picture to prove it or do I?!

These are choices, mine and yours imaginary ideas to what could be or have been a perfect and choreographic wedding, where the groom and bride would walk or have walked down the isle to a ticketed parade of rice throwing and cheer spectators and oh yeah!…to an exhausting bank account at the end of shindig: the bill and full stomachs.

Unconventional or not, it is your decision. Whatever makes your fancy. Whatever your heart’s content or desire. It is your wedding day. Your wedding march. Make it perfect. One to remember. I am still telling my story!

A Letter To My Dad, Second Take!

IMG_0153Hello dad,

It is me once again knocking, celebrating you in my own way.

I have no idea where you are, where He has taken you, what you are doing. Humm, for all I know you could be riding a bicycle or at the library, who knows but you?! Oh, how I wished you could read this one more letter but fate had it differently. Your carousel has stalled, the music stopped and the bell, no longer ringing.

I just wanted to tell you how much I love you, how much I miss you, our talks, your wisdom, your smarts, your brightness.

I miss being your child.

Dad, I miss running to you with my worries and hearing your thoughts whenever crucial decisions bothered me. I remember you sitting silently, listening with your left arm folded and slightly biting into your right thumb, your eyes closed, immersed in your thoughts… I don’t know what your were thinking about? I just  know that you never judged or preached but were always ready to give me some advice. They were free but at times, very expensive.

Our shared values are still with me. I embrace them. I treasure them. They ring on my ears nonstop.

Authoritarian you never were, kinder and gentler, judicious you were. It is from you that I learned what choice meant, what determination was and I carry the proud card in my wallet.

We never went fishing, we never played pool, we never played ball but we always went to The Game, Soccer that is. You would linger with the bigwigs and I, with the peeps, so I could yell my lungs out. Oh and I played the sports too just as you did, although not professional.

Occasionally, we would go to the bashes but you were too shy to be caught dancing. A point that makes me question where I got my dancing shoes from. I, on the other hand, have not found one dancing shoe that does not fit me. Someone should have perhaps, stack a ballerina moniker in my forehead.

You were smart and intelligent, a thought-out individual. You introduced me to books in your stuffed library, books of all sorts of shapes and colors and tastes. You infused in me that sense of conscientiousness and self-worth. It did not matter, you said, ignore the ignorant long enough and they will go away. No sense in fighting them. Oops, I like that!

You detested conflicts. It was not your forte. I never heard you complaining or arguing. I never saw you screaming or yelling at anyone. Perhaps, you should have bent some of your rules a bit so to give me a lesson or two regarding the “real” world. It is a jungle out there.

I never saw you but showing genuine love and deep respect to mom– your love for her was untainted, unadulterated, extraordinary. Your perpetual love affair made and still makes me burn with envy. I never heard you raising your voice or your hand on her and for that I could never thank you enough. The reason why she respected and loved you with such intensity of a incandescent light bulb. It showed with her constant presence at your beside even putting her own health at risk but she didn’t care. That’s her. She was a trooper who exerted a strength of a superwoman, undesirable magnetic force to the point of excess, at least to us but muscles she did not have, will she did. They say it is love. I really don’t know were she got it from but I want to be just like her when I grow up. Perhaps, you were otherwise somewhere else but that was a foreign elsewhere to both me and my sister.

You were not a blabber; you never were. You were actually a man of a few words. You barely shared your thoughts frustrating a few of us. We were often left to read in between the lines when you sat alone in the sofa, always with your eyes close, your hands going through your balding head while recklessly chewing on your nails. It was your thing, chewing on those nails. Geez, if they could talk, they would be telling stories or beg for mercy. But we knew better. You always spoke in metaphors; so, us girls were left to decode them.

It was your dry sarcastic sense of humor that made my funny side possible. Oh boy, did it ever?! You traveled the world over returning with stories that you shared at dinner. Oh, how I miss those moments! We would sit and talk about things. My mother was the butt of a lot of our jokes but she didn’t mind; it was all in good fun.

Long before email, FaceBook or Skype sucked us in, I had your letters. You wrote often and your letters were delightful. You always knew what to say and how to say it. You just knew how to satiate my anxious salivating soul. I enjoyed them then and do enjoy them now. The reason why still have some of them stacked away. But then, one beautiful day they stopped coming. They were no more. The letters were replaced by weekly phone calls and even those too, soon fizzled. The dreadful madness took over and replaced you with a new version of you. Yeah, I loved that new person too.

I wish you could see the way we talk today Dad. It is so instant now; with a click I could have seen and heard you. How cool is that? But the story is not to be. It ended a year ago today, when you finally succumbed to the madness and went to be with the Lord. I guess God needed you more. I know He is taking great care of him but…

Dad, perhaps you finally learned how to dance and is somewhere dancing the Macarena, oops, Gangnam Style or Harlem Shake or doing stand up at Comedy Club somewhere. I don’t know. I wish I had a mirror into it all but I don’t and it is just the way it is.

Once upon a time, I was your princess, your finicky little girl and your young tomboy. Today, I am your anguished daughter.

I so miss you. I miss talking to you. I miss our conversations. I miss our moments. I miss exchanging a few words with you. I miss hearing your sarcastic humor and calm voice, your good manners and your beautiful heart. I miss all of you but you are no longer with us. I can only commit to the memories and dream that one day you I see you again. I know better. I resort to just wishing.

Thank you for having been my dad. Thank you for having been our dad. Thank you for having been my mother’s husband. Thank you for having been our friend.

Your daughter

P.S. This letter was originally published on Father’s Day 2009 as my father’s health was in terrible shape but minor changes have been added, as we pay homage to him on one year anniversary of his death today. https://ludlumdrive.wordpress.com/2009/06/21/a-letter-to-my-daddy

My Olympics, Your Olympics

Olympic Stadium

I love the Olympics and if I had my way, it would be held every year instead of every four years.

We watched the Olympics, enjoyed the events and couldn’t help but be at awe especially with Usain Bolt, the 100 meters record holder. I mean, this guy is a phenomenon. Who amongst us can say that we can run that fast. I certainly can’t. I take longer to put on my make up. I am trying to figure out what I can do in less then a minute. Do you have an idea? I certainly don’t!

We have to marvel, respect what these athletes do. I noticed during their interviews, regardless of what they did, sports they played, their gender, the countries they represented, that most of them at the some point talked about how much hard they had to work, how disciplined they had to be with their regiment, workouts, nutrition, sleep that without these elements, they could not achieve that level of performance or glory, they were incomplete.

Seriously, think about, all of us are athletes, Olympians in own rights. Let’s face it, like it or not, we are consistently competing in the Olympics of life. Who among us can positively say that we have never been through the university of life? It is one evolving game.

One can argue that what we do in our everyday lives, is a lot harder then what these athletes do in their everyday regiment. It is not easy to get through the loss of a loved one, an illness, live with terminal condition, bottle internal demons, deal with job lost, go through divorce and so on. To some individuals, not taking it away from the great athletes, it is harder to go through situations of life then it is to compete. Then again, who hasn’t? Think positive and it should be a breeze, right? At least we hope.

However, it isn’t so easy.

Just like they need a extraordinary discipline, strenuating and consistency with their work out; in order for us to attain the glory that we seek, the ecstasy, fulfillment, happiness which we will one day, we too will have to submit ourselves to a very rigorous regiment of life, get the needed nutrition, not calories or gym but turn sometimes to higher power, the Lord to give us the stability we seek. Some of us govern, exercise our lives, get the rewards and the glory we so deserve spiritually by turning to the Lord or just go by their merry way, hoping for the glory to come without being invited.

Those who attend the house of Lord, whatever your religion, are reminded of that overtime they hear the teaching in regards to life concerns.

It is through whatever your ideology that we are reminded that HE is the bread of life, the bread that gives us the combustive eternal glory we so desire but in order to attain that fuel, we need to allow ourselves to embraced HIS teachings.

Closing Ceremony

As humans, we often run into issues, get discouraged with the direction our lives are taking and believe our resources are just not enough to solve the headaches du’jour: our woes, struggles, weaknesses. Well, issues don’t dissipate, they don’t go away; maybe they will some day, if we are lucky, only after we are dead.

As long as we are alive, we are going to be challenged by something. Our problem is that none of us is going to escape the challenges and suffering that comes with being human. Granted, some will sometimes suffer and struggle more then the others but that only occurs when we over rely on our own strength, wisdom or vitality. However, the longer we live, the more we realize that our strength, smarts and energy are not enough to navigate the drills of life.

“I am done with this nonsense. Please, put me out of my misery”. Distraught words often spoken in times of complete misery but what we don’t realized is that often, we are never alone. The higher power is never far behind. HE is always with us. He never abandon us in our commitment, in our misery. He brings us his presence, understands us, our journey, our struggles, the glory, the nourishment that we seek. He is always available.

We earn our nourishment by appealing to higher power. Praying can be very subjective as some don’t see the use for it and others who do, asserts of it fulfilling their soul.

There are so many ways to pray. Some get the nourishment when they connect honestly to the Lord by sharing their joys, apprehensions, frustrations and doubts, as they believe it broads their horizons, revitalizes them, gives them a spark that they did not have previously. Others get their nourishment by sharing in community. This is how they appeal to higher power by offering their time for better causes.

Often living in the community does not come easy. It is a drag as we search for ways to accommodate, marry our personalities with those of others. We often find ourselves questioning the reasons for being, finding it alarming, crazy while in community of home and work. Yes, it can be but it is how we deal with it that makes us a whole.

We are at peace whenever we become aware that The Creator is driving the bus, he is present, working in the midst of whatever tension, challenges we maybe experiencing, joy we partake with one another, at home, at work, in general; we are fulfilled, stimulated by it.

We need to deepen our constant presence with those living around us. If we aware of what is going, we are able to energize ourselves and shake the craziness that surrounds our lives.

Just like the olympic athletes, all of us are also looking for that glory, and just like they need to prepare themselves to a strict discipline, we need to also do the same that our return will be even far greater. Even if you don’t believe in religion you must admit that the higher power, the Creator,  will bestow that glory upon us but we have to work at it. Just because we are confronted with one hurdle of life, it does not mean we have to kill ourselves over it. The storm shall pass. Look at it from the point of view of a book page. Turn it, next!

Then again, one can also argue that yes they are athletes, they are olympians but not super humans who are immune from the facts of life. They too go through the same. Perhaps, a double punch! Personally, I hit the gym when I experiencing headaches. So, does it make me an olympian?