~~~~~~~

[Guest guest]

My mom died today, well. last night now.

Actually, she died several years ago, of breast cancer. I only just found out

through a childhood friend who I ran across last night on F/B, when she

mentioned how much she missed her.

I've sat here for hours wondering how I feel. Asking myself do I feel. Getting

lost in memories, and conversations long past. A tear may start to come, and I

pull myself back to the present moment. If they come, and they will, I want them

to be real...not to gain pity, not to draw sympathies. I simply want what is

true.

We were never ones to get along, not really. We were both head strong, strong

willed.

She grew up in a house full of kids, 13 in all. To say times were hard then is

an understatement. I use to hear stories about all the times " granny " chased

everyone with a fire poker, and " grandpa " had to intervene. Of course, looking

back, I know it was the times, the stress, the hormones, just to name a few. But

they all made it out alive. She later died many years after not knowing anyone

around her.

Mom, met my dad at 17. A city boy of 19 and a country girl out on their

own...and here I come. By the time she had the third, my brother Tim, I was 5,

and dad was gone.

That's when a woman of about 22 found herself alone, 3 kids, no job, no

experience, and very little help.

That's when she ran across the " church " she would be a part of for many years.

[that particular religion spawned many stories in such places as The Painful

Truth, a website online]. But it's how we grew up. [spare the rod, spoil the

child was a big thing.] The experience of " that " put me on a path of digging for

truth. Many paths, shaking out what rang true, leaving the rest.

I look back and see, like her mother, she did what she knew to do then, from

where she was. Who ever has any real experience being a parent?

It's not the experiences of beatings, or other turmoil of the times, as it is,

we always had a roof over our head, food on the table, and clothes on our back.

We planted a lot of gardens, and raised chickens. We canned, and I remember

cutting firewood in the dead of winter to help stay warm.

I watched as she went from no experience in life, to performing miracles. I

watched her clean homes for others; work glove mills, and saw her hold a job

while going to night school to become a draftsman, excuse me...a draftswoman.

Women then just didn't decide to become anything....how dare they? Women then,

without a husband and 3 kids dealt with too many things to mention.

I saw all of this growing up. I lived it! And while my paper routes, and lawn

care services put a lot of food on the table; while all the after school jobs

and extra things I could do put my brothers in shoes and things for school.....I

was always trying a new idea.

All it would take is one great idea, and we would never have to live like we had

been. I've started and failed so many businesses when I was younger I wrote a

book on them, lol That book and some of my drawings of the time made 20 bucks

when my brother took them to school and sold them. [my book was hand printed

front to back, ready to go to the printer one day.] [so, I'm published,

somewhere...lol]

My mom would say, " you live in the real world, stop dreaming up ways to change

it " . My reply was always something like, " I'm going to find a way... " . We butted

heads a lot.....all the time. I was proud of working hard, and it making a

difference. I knew too that there had to be a better way to do things.

I only saw her a few times after leaving home at 17. I'd stop back by every few

years and stay a bit, then off again. Visiting was one thing.

I hadn't even seen her in nearly 10 years when I dropped in for a visit and

stayed about 3 months...that was over 12 years ago.

I had wanted to take to visit her grandma on more than one occasion,

knowing her heart would melt from the experience. I had wrote her back after

was born. It was some time before I ever heard back, a few years, and one

of those typed letters kind of things.

[[i'll note that she took my brother Tim's death very hard. He died in the

Bering Sea [think the " Deadliest Catch " show on TV] in '93. It had been my fault

according to her, because he wouldn't have been there earning money for college

if I hadn't of left home earlier. She dealt with that the only way she could. It

gave her something to direct her pain at....]]

She didn't want to speak, or meet, or see , nor much of anyone else. I

still have the letter here. In looking back over those 3 pages it dawned on me a

little while ago that she must have known then something was going on. Maybe she

was closing out the last chapters of life in the best ways she knew how.

One of her favorite statements had been, " your a survivor; out of everyone I

know, you can survive anything. Your too strong for your own good. " I could

block memories, pain, loss, and more. But I had no choice, being strong was what

I had been taught.

Looking back, I have never called myself a survivor. I dislike the word even.

But here she was, with a letter, codified for this moment in time.

I had honored her request to not contact her again. She had never implied such a

thing before then. And I sit here now........

I think we both bottled up so much pain within us, that when it came to her and

I, it was better to let " us " remain behind an iron gate, or amour.

As much as I have used Love, taught it, showed how it worked.....as much as I

harp about compassion, gratitude, forgiveness, empathy and the importance of

joy...in staying in this moment...

I think I'm beginning to understand.... " a knights intention " .

But, this isn't about me. It's about a woman I knew, who did the best she could

with where she was. For without those experiences, I could not now take that

gate down and let it's energy out. I drop my shield, my amour, my sword........

I've sat here at the kitchen table with my big mug of herb tea. I notice the

ashtray over-flowing. I clear my mind so that whatever comes will be allowed to

be. Numb! There are no words....simply images. Faded memories...back to NOW. I

don't know what I feel.

Empathy for others is very easy for me, and I don't use shields to block. But

this....

" T " was ready to catch me earlier. I could see it, I could tell. After all, her

mom had died of the same thing. For her, I have empathy. But I did not " fall " .

It was just a wave that washed over me. And I draw a blank....

I was NOT strong.

I was battle hardened.

And it's taken me a very long time to dismantle this ole rusty knights gear.

Battered and torn as it was....

LOVE is the " only " answer. It was right there all the time, behind that breast

plate of iron.

MOM.......

I Forgive You.....

I Forgive Me.....

Thank You.....

~~D~~

[Guest guest]

With Heart felt sympathy, No matter how close or distant we might be to a parent, somewhere inside we are still the little child looking for their love and approval.

It is some how easier to forgive and to let nothing but the LOVE remain when they have moved on from this plane.

I pray you will be well and will feel the love of all that you are always mighty for.

Blessings,

Annie

"May He give you the desire of your heart and make all your plans succeed."Psalm 20:4

P Save Trees. Print only when necessary

From: <knightsintention@...>Subject: [] ~~~~~~~ Date: Sunday, August 16, 2009, 6:22 AM

My mom died today, well. last night now.Actually, she died several years ago, of breast cancer. I only just found out through a childhood friend who I ran across last night on F/B, when she mentioned how much she missed her.I've sat here for hours wondering how I feel. Asking myself do I feel. Getting lost in memories, and conversations long past. A tear may start to come, and I pull myself back to the present moment. If they come, and they will, I want them to be real...not to gain pity, not to draw sympathies. I simply want what is true.We were never ones to get along, not really. We were both head strong, strong willed.She grew up in a house full of kids, 13 in all. To say times were hard then is an understatement. I use to hear stories about all the times "granny" chased everyone with a fire poker, and "grandpa" had to intervene. Of course, looking back, I know it was the times, the stress, the hormones, just to

name a few. But they all made it out alive. She later died many years after not knowing anyone around her.Mom, met my dad at 17. A city boy of 19 and a country girl out on their own...and here I come. By the time she had the third, my brother Tim, I was 5, and dad was gone.That's when a woman of about 22 found herself alone, 3 kids, no job, no experience, and very little help.That's when she ran across the "church" she would be a part of for many years. [that particular religion spawned many stories in such places as The Painful Truth, a website online]. But it's how we grew up. [spare the rod, spoil the child was a big thing.] The experience of "that" put me on a path of digging for truth. Many paths, shaking out what rang true, leaving the rest.I look back and see, like her mother, she did what she knew to do then, from where she was. Who ever has any real experience being a parent?It's not the experiences of

beatings, or other turmoil of the times, as it is, we always had a roof over our head, food on the table, and clothes on our back. We planted a lot of gardens, and raised chickens. We canned, and I remember cutting firewood in the dead of winter to help stay warm.I watched as she went from no experience in life, to performing miracles. I watched her clean homes for others; work glove mills, and saw her hold a job while going to night school to become a draftsman, excuse me...a draftswoman.Women then just didn't decide to become anything.... how dare they? Women then, without a husband and 3 kids dealt with too many things to mention.I saw all of this growing up. I lived it! And while my paper routes, and lawn care services put a lot of food on the table; while all the after school jobs and extra things I could do put my brothers in shoes and things for school.....I was always trying a new idea.All it would take is one

great idea, and we would never have to live like we had been. I've started and failed so many businesses when I was younger I wrote a book on them, lol That book and some of my drawings of the time made 20 bucks when my brother took them to school and sold them. [my book was hand printed front to back, ready to go to the printer one day.] [so, I'm published, somewhere... lol]My mom would say, "you live in the real world, stop dreaming up ways to change it". My reply was always something like, "I'm going to find a way...". We butted heads a lot.....all the time. I was proud of working hard, and it making a difference. I knew too that there had to be a better way to do things.I only saw her a few times after leaving home at 17. I'd stop back by every few years and stay a bit, then off again. Visiting was one thing.I hadn't even seen her in nearly 10 years when I dropped in for a visit and stayed about 3 months...that was over 12

years ago.I had wanted to take to visit her grandma on more than one occasion, knowing her heart would melt from the experience. I had wrote her back after was born. It was some time before I ever heard back, a few years, and one of those typed letters kind of things.[[i'll note that she took my brother Tim's death very hard. He died in the Bering Sea [think the "Deadliest Catch" show on TV] in '93. It had been my fault according to her, because he wouldn't have been there earning money for college if I hadn't of left home earlier. She dealt with that the only way she could. It gave her something to direct her pain at....]]She didn't want to speak, or meet, or see , nor much of anyone else. I still have the letter here. In looking back over those 3 pages it dawned on me a little while ago that she must have known then something was going on. Maybe she was closing out the last chapters of life in the best ways she

knew how.One of her favorite statements had been, "your a survivor; out of everyone I know, you can survive anything. Your too strong for your own good." I could block memories, pain, loss, and more. But I had no choice, being strong was what I had been taught.Looking back, I have never called myself a survivor. I dislike the word even. But here she was, with a letter, codified for this moment in time.I had honored her request to not contact her again. She had never implied such a thing before then. And I sit here now........I think we both bottled up so much pain within us, that when it came to her and I, it was better to let "us" remain behind an iron gate, or amour.As much as I have used Love, taught it, showed how it worked.....as much as I harp about compassion, gratitude, forgiveness, empathy and the importance of joy...in staying in this moment...I think I'm beginning to understand.. .. "a knights

intention".But, this isn't about me. It's about a woman I knew, who did the best she could with where she was. For without those experiences, I could not now take that gate down and let it's energy out. I drop my shield, my amour, my sword....... .I've sat here at the kitchen table with my big mug of herb tea. I notice the ashtray over-flowing. I clear my mind so that whatever comes will be allowed to be. Numb! There are no words....simply images. Faded memories...back to NOW. I don't know what I feel.Empathy for others is very easy for me, and I don't use shields to block. But this...."T" was ready to catch me earlier. I could see it, I could tell. After all, her mom had died of the same thing. For her, I have empathy. But I did not "fall". It was just a wave that washed over me. And I draw a blank....I was NOT strong.I was battle hardened.And it's taken me a very long time to dismantle this ole

rusty knights gear. Battered and torn as it was....LOVE is the "only" answer. It was right there all the time, behind that breast plate of iron.MOM.......I Forgive You.....I Forgive Me.....Thank You.....~~D~~

[Guest guest]

I know that numbness . For me it was about anger of my brother being gone. You will find what it is for you. As you said, Love is the only thing that is important. You loved her for doing the best she could under the circumstances, the same way I loved my parents. And I am sure she loved you too. Anyway, I think our time on earth is about the people we have loved, not about the people who have loved us. My heart goes out to you friend and I ask the Creator to help you find your way through this maze, and I did.

Love, Light, Peace and Joy,CherylVisit me at: http://www.myspace.com/senegaladyBe safe - use the Bcc method for multiple emails and deleteother people's addresses before forwarding emails

In a message dated 8/16/2009 6:23:47 A.M. Eastern Daylight Time, knightsintention@... writes:

My mom died today, well. last night now.Actually, she died several years ago, of breast cancer. I only just found out through a childhood friend who I ran across last night on F/B, when she mentioned how much she missed her.I've sat here for hours wondering how I feel. Asking myself do I feel. Getting lost in memories, and conversations long past. A tear may start to come, and I pull myself back to the present moment. If they come, and they will, I want them to be real...not to gain pity, not to draw sympathies. I simply want what is true.We were never ones to get along, not really. We were both head strong, strong willed.She grew up in a house full of kids, 13 in all. To say times were hard then is an understatement. I use to hear stories about all the times "granny" chased everyone with a fire poker, and "grandpa" had to intervene. Of course, looking back, I know it was the times, the stress, the hormones, just to name a few. But they all made it out alive. She later died many years after not knowing anyone around her.Mom, met my dad at 17. A city boy of 19 and a country girl out on their own...and here I come. By the time she had the third, my brother Tim, I was 5, and dad was gone.That's when a woman of about 22 found herself alone, 3 kids, no job, no experience, and very little help.That's when she ran across the "church" she would be a part of for many years. [that particular religion spawned many stories in such places as The Painful Truth, a website online]. But it's how we grew up. [spare the rod, spoil the child was a big thing.] The experience of "that" put me on a path of digging for truth. Many paths, shaking out what rang true, leaving the rest.I look back and see, like her mother, she did what she knew to do then, from where she was. Who ever has any real experience being a parent?It's not the experiences of beatings, or other turmoil of the times, as it is, we always had a roof over our head, food on the table, and clothes on our back. We planted a lot of gardens, and raised chickens. We canned, and I remember cutting firewood in the dead of winter to help stay warm.I watched as she went from no experience in life, to performing miracles. I watched her clean homes for others; work glove mills, and saw her hold a job while going to night school to become a draftsman, excuse me...a draftswoman.Women then just didn't decide to become anything....how dare they? Women then, without a husband and 3 kids dealt with too many things to mention.I saw all of this growing up. I lived it! And while my paper routes, and lawn care services put a lot of food on the table; while all the after school jobs and extra things I could do put my brothers in shoes and things for school.....I was always trying a new idea.All it would take is one great idea, and we would never have to live like we had been. I've started and failed so many businesses when I was younger I wrote a book on them, lol That book and some of my drawings of the time made 20 bucks when my brother took them to school and sold them. [my book was hand printed front to back, ready to go to the printer one day.] [so, I'm published, somewhere...lol]My mom would say, "you live in the real world, stop dreaming up ways to change it". My reply was always something like, "I'm going to find a way...". We butted heads a lot.....all the time. I was proud of working hard, and it making a difference. I knew too that there had to be a better way to do things.I only saw her a few times after leaving home at 17. I'd stop back by every few years and stay a bit, then off again. Visiting was one thing.I hadn't even seen her in nearly 10 years when I dropped in for a visit and stayed about 3 months...that was over 12 years ago.I had wanted to take to visit her grandma on more than one occasion, knowing her heart would melt from the experience. I had wrote her back after was born. It was some time before I ever heard back, a few years, and one of those typed letters kind of things.[[i'll note that she took my brother Tim's death very hard. He died in the Bering Sea [think the "Deadliest Catch" show on TV] in '93. It had been my fault according to her, because he wouldn't have been there earning money for college if I hadn't of left home earlier. She dealt with that the only way she could. It gave her something to direct her pain at....]]She didn't want to speak, or meet, or see , nor much of anyone else. I still have the letter here. In looking back over those 3 pages it dawned on me a little while ago that she must have known then something was going on. Maybe she was closing out the last chapters of life in the best ways she knew how.One of her favorite statements had been, "your a survivor; out of everyone I know, you can survive anything. Your too strong for your own good." I could block memories, pain, loss, and more. But I had no choice, being strong was what I had been taught.Looking back, I have never called myself a survivor. I dislike the word even. But here she was, with a letter, codified for this moment in time.I had honored her request to not contact her again. She had never implied such a thing before then. And I sit here now........I think we both bottled up so much pain within us, that when it came to her and I, it was better to let "us" remain behind an iron gate, or amour.As much as I have used Love, taught it, showed how it worked.....as much as I harp about compassion, gratitude, forgiveness, empathy and the importance of joy...in staying in this moment...I think I'm beginning to understand.... "a knights intention".But, this isn't about me. It's about a woman I knew, who did the best she could with where she was. For without those experiences, I could not now take that gate down and let it's energy out. I drop my shield, my amour, my sword........I've sat here at the kitchen table with my big mug of herb tea. I notice the ashtray over-flowing. I clear my mind so that whatever comes will be allowed to be. Numb! There are no words....simply images. Faded memories...back to NOW. I don't know what I feel.Empathy for others is very easy for me, and I don't use shields to block. But this...."T" was ready to catch me earlier. I could see it, I could tell. After all, her mom had died of the same thing. For her, I have empathy. But I did not "fall". It was just a wave that washed over me. And I draw a blank....I was NOT strong.I was battle hardened.And it's taken me a very long time to dismantle this ole rusty knights gear. Battered and torn as it was....LOVE is the "only" answer. It was right there all the time, behind that breast plate of iron.MOM.......I Forgive You..... I Forgive Me..... Thank You.....~~D~~------------------------------------Humanity Healing,Healing the heart of Humanity,one soul at the time. <center>I GoodSearch & GoodShop for Humanity Healing Foundation.Raise money for Humanity Healing Foundation and Projects just by searching the Internet with GoodSearch.com(powered by ), or shopping online with GoodShop.com <*>To download our new ToolBar http://.OurOrganizationToolbar.com <*>www..net<*>©2006-2009 Humanity Healing FAIR USE NOTICE: This page may contains copyrighted material the use of which has not been specifically authorized by the copyright owner. This website distributes this material without profit to those who have expressed a prior interest in receiving the included information for research and educational purposes. 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