Saturday, April 11, 2009

Was Love Meant to Last Forever?

By Jena Isle

“Will you marry me?” he asked breathlessly. Her smile was like the sun breaking through the darkened sky.


“Yes,“ she said, and their hungry lips met to seal their undying love for each other.

What a wonderful love story!

I closed the book and stared dreamily at its cover. There were two figures blissfully entwined in a tight embrace.

Alas! I sighed. Real life stories usually do not have “happily-ever-after” endings. Broken families around me were enough proof of that. I would rather fantasize about my “knight –in shining armor” through the novels that I read than be part of the drama in real life.

July 01, 2000:

Life is one big irony; however, for on this day, I said goodbye to being single. I understood then what lovers meant when they said that “Smoke gets in your eyes” or that “Love is blind.” Indeed, I was so madly and deeply in love with Jayson, that I opted to be “blind” to the uncertainties of the future and was willing to “cross the seven seas” for him. So on this glorious day, we exchanged marriage vows and it was the start of a new life for me.

August 23, 2004:

God had blessed us with two bubbly kids: a boy and a girl. They had their father’s chinky eyes, thick eyebrows, obstinate nose; each complemented all the other facial features to almost perfection. I was thankful they got nothing from my plain looks.

As I had forseen, married life was a bed of roses - with countless thorns. It entailed lots of sacrifices: I was expected to do all the countless household chores even if I had an 8 to 5 daytime job: in the office –piles of paperwork , screaming deadlines, tumultuous meetings; then when I went home – smelly diapers, baby tantrums, sleepless nights and many more. There were also times that I would have to tolerate my husband’s behavior. When he came home from a drinking spree with his comrades in uniform, I would patiently sponge his body with lukewarm water. These were all the sprinkles of salt that had made my married life more meaningful. I had no complaints because I knew these were all part of the package.

June 03, 2006:

Life though had so much more in store for me, for on this fateful day, I sat staring dazedly at the phone. I tried to control the spasms of sobs that rose to my throat. We had three kids by then and they were joyously romping with their father in the backyard. I thought my Calvary was over when Jayson was acquitted from a “robbery case” and was eventually reinstated in the military service a year before, but how wrong I was! Here was another tempest about to wreak havoc in my family.

“Jayson told me that we’ll be together soon,” she had purred into the phone. “A few more years perhaps, until your youngest is of an age to understand.”

I believed her then, for she had known a secret which I had always thought, only I and Jayson knew about.

I did not have enough courage to confront Jayson. What I knew was that I still loved him with the same intensity, after all the years that had passed. Did he still love me? I wanted to ask him then but whenever I started to do so, my eyes would brim with tears and a lump in my throat would choke my words. So, whenever he caught me teary-eyed, I made plausible excuses.

“We are on red alert. I won’t be coming home tonight, please go to sleep early,” he would say, during the nights he was not able to come home.
I convinced myself that he was telling the truth, but now and then I would catch a whiff of a woman’s perfume on his shirt.

The kids were unaware of my Calvary, however. They adored their father and he loved them in return, that I wallowed alone in my misery. I consoled myself by reading the Holy Bible. “Love beareth all things…”

September 18, 2006:

During the past two years, my heart became numb with pain from the constant calls of his mistress. I suffered in silence, ignoring his late –nights out, his missing shirts, and the indications of his infidelity. My love for him and our children was greater than my pain. You may call me a fool, but the happiness of my children was foremost in my mind.

But that day, the woman called, “We will be starting a business, do you want to be our guest?”

A nerve snapped in my head and that did it! I had had enough of this BS!

When he came home that night, I confronted him and had hoped to high heavens, that he would deny my accusations, but all I got was the silence of acceptance. I pounced at him when he attempted to take me in his arms and snarled vicious words at him in my anger.

That night after the kids slept, I slept in a different room for the first time. I prayed so hard for divine guidance. God help me to be strong!
When morning came, Jayson acted as if nothing happened and I joined his charade in front of the children.

December 24, 2007:

My husband urged our youngest son to light the Christmas candle. We all cheered when it exploded into a kaleidoscope of colors.

“Happy new year!” Jayson kissed and hugged me tightly.

Our children trooped to kiss and hug us both.

I gazed happily at the family that I had fought tooth and nails to keep whole. I thank my lucky stars my love for them was great enough to weather the storms that had crossed our path. I thank God for making me realize that the painful events that occurred were just some of the crosses I have to carry stoically, for they will all come to pass.

It was difficult at first to forgive Jayson when he had pleaded for forgiveness. He realized that he had to choose between his family and his mistress and that he could not have both.

We had moved to another town to start anew , and it was all worth it. The woman attempted to call Jayson several times through his cell phone, but he ignored it. He decided to change his number when it was evident, she would not stop. She was an ardent pursuer –that woman! Any man could fall into her claws just because of her persistence. I thank God, we were able to evade her venomous reach.

Happily- ever- after endings do happen in real life. It takes TRUE LOVE, understanding, and forgiveness to be able to achieve it.

I’m happily snuggled up with my husband right now, as I write the draft of this story. He’s contentedly watching our children opening their gifts.

Indeed true love was meant to last FOREVER!

I would like to acknowledge the efforts of Jean Knill of Jean's Musings for this story. Thanks Jean.
Photo 1 by victoriapeckham
Photo 2 by Peter Giger

Photo 3 by notsogoodphotography


A SPHINX PICTURE FROM JEAN OF JEAN'S MUSINGS

This picture was generously shared by Jean of Jean's Musings from her recent travel to Egypt. The Blogosphere is a good world to be in with people like her. May her tribe increase! Thanks Jean.





Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Patricia Rockwell's Response to my Query


PATRICIA ROCKWELL, author of the blogs COMMUNICATION EXCHANGE and SUBJECTIVE SOUP has responded kindly to my question and request for a post on ONLINE EDUCATION and its benefits and drawbacks.

Patricia is retired now and has been a professor at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette and the Northern Illinois University.

Her expertise in the field of education and communication has provided her with appropriate credentials to speak on topics such as Online Education and communication. She writes about a lot of topics under the sun, e.g. entertainment (Dancing with Warren Buffet), medical related articles, girl chat and many more. She does not only pen formal and academic papers but also has a creative venture - a novel, Sound of Murder, which she completed in the month of November for NaNoWriMo .

She writes too for Helium and Associated Content and has a book for sale entitled: Sarcasm and Other Mixed Messages: The Ambiguous Ways People Use Language .

Due to these, I had nominated her to the Blogger's Choice 09 Awards for Best in Education Blog. Kindly click this link to vote for her.

Visit her blog and read various, interesting topics that could be very useful and relevant to you.

Thanks Patricia and all the best!



Saturday, April 4, 2009

The Laughter of Grief - 15th Story for the Inspirational Book

By: JOHN ROONEY


There’s an old saying that goes something like this, ‘If you want to make God laugh, tell him what you’ll be doing tomorrow.’ It’s an adage that I’ve come to believe in greatly over the years and it’s one which has helped me to see the lighter-side-of-life when carefully made plans have gone haywire.

But on that cold, frosty January morning I wasn’t particularly at ease with God’s sense of humour. It was supposed to be the day that I was taking my daughter back to school following the Christmas break; the day that I had planned to clear my office of all the junk I seem to accumulate during the course of a year’s writing; and most significantly it was the day that I had set aside to oil reels and polish rods in preparation for spring and the start of a new fishing season. Instead I was sitting on the backseat of a taxi, on my way to see my dying father.

There’s a magic in fishing that only those with a fervour for it can fully understand. It takes you to a place of mist filled mornings and long summer days where time stands still; a place where myths and legends – the one that got away – lurk in the reed-beds of tranquil pools and bubbling streams; a place where mother nature plots the pattern of the day and where all men – kings, presidents and paupers are equal; a place where childhood dreams are re-lived and new adventures unfold.

So it was for my father and me. We lived and shared our dreams together on lakesides and on riverbanks and through our passion for angling we forged an alliance that surpassed kinship. Our friendship lasted for 40 years and was built on trust and understanding.

He hadn’t been ill long. Just a few days before we shared a family meal of turkey and roast potatoes and he beamed as he watched his granddaughter – my daughter – open her Christmas presents. He laughed as she danced and skipped through the mess of wrapping paper and declared that her favourite present was a pair of Spiderman wellingtons. And later, when she was sleeping, he told me how thoroughly he had enjoyed the day and how special my daughter was.

The taxi arrived at the hospital, stopped, and my mother and I got out. The driver wished us ‘all the best’ and inside the large, grey building a young doctor introduced himself with an apologetic smile. He led us to a small room off the main, brightly lit corridor where we sat whilst he explained how my father’s chest infection had worsened which, when combined with the chronic obstructive pulmonary disease he suffered from, made breathing almost impossible. He was receiving antibiotics and the staff were preparing him for a chest x-ray.

“But he didn’t seem too bad last night,” my mother said.

I had to agree. The previous night my father had sat up in the hospital bed, giggling and chatting with my daughter. He was wearing an oxygen mask but his appearance had improved substantially. Nothing like the man who, just two days earlier, had been taken to hospital sweating and struggling for air. His previously sallow skin was glowing and he eagerly made plans for the New Year.

The doctor fixed his gaze towards the floor and said, “I think you should expect the worst.”

My mother wept. I was too engrossed in disbelief to cry but managed a croaky, “Can we see him?”

“Of course,” the doctor replied.

My partner got the job of leaving our daughter to school and arrived shortly after the shocking statement and together the three of us entered the long hospital ward. We approached my father’s bed where an array of monitors kept the hospital staff informed of his condition and a tall, black cylinder supplied him with oxygen. My mother and partner tried not to appear anxious, though I could see the tears welling in their eyes.

I gently took my father’s hand and said, “You’re going to be fine. We’ll be back catching fish in no time.”

“Oh,” he said, his voice was low and hoarse. “I don’t know about that.”

Numerous phone-calls were made that day. Family members, close friends and acquaintances arrived and when my father drifted into a deep, coma-like sleep he was moved to a small private ward of his own. I held his hand and when the time came I kissed him on the forehead and said, “Goodbye.”

I left the small room, made my way to the bathroom, got down on my knees and through my tears, I prayed.

There’s something terribly un-nerving about watching a parent decline into ill health and eventually death. And the feelings of loss that are part of it emanate from the pits of your stomach to fill every cell and thought of your being. The person you looked upon and relied upon to be there in the stormy seas of life, to be the calming influence when your boat was swamped, is no longer your anchor. More than at any other time in your life you are on your own. It’s something you know will happen. It’s something you prepare for and think you’re ready to deal with, but when it does happen you can never be prepared enough. And praying was all I could think to do.

My father was buried a few days later and as the days progressed and turned into weeks the pain began to subside, though the feeling of loss will remain with me always, of that I’m certain. My daughter was a constant source of enlightenment despite asking all the questions I had equally expected and dreaded.

“Where is granda?”

“Why did granda leave?”

“Will granda be back?”

My partner and I done our best to explain and in her own way, as best a four-year-old can, she mourned the passing of her ‘granda.’


One evening we decided it would be good if we all spent the following day at the Zoo. Preparations were made, provisions were packed and we went to bed early to be ready for the next day. Around two thirty in the morning I was wakened when my daughter climbed into bed beside me. She curled up beneath the covers and in the sweetest voice I ever heard she said, “Daddy, can we go fishing tomorrow?”

God was laughing again and so was I, and as I laughed I knew that somewhere in the heavens my father was laughing with me.

copyright John Rooney 2009

ABOUT THE AUTHOR


JOHN ROONEY of The Ups , Downs and Sometimes Insane World of Writing is a freelance writer and photographer.

He says : "My work has appeared in magazines throughout the UK and Ireland."

He writes about excellent topics which are very useful to amateur and professional writers. His expertise as a published author lends credence to his numerous articles:

e.g. Beat the Block - Tips to Defeat Writer's Block . This article has proven that he can write in any genre. Visit his blog to learn more about him.

Friday, April 3, 2009

REMINISCING AMIDST THE SUNSET OF IBIZA





Thursday, April 2, 2009

A Poem For Zorlone

These are modified, related cinquains which I sincerely dedicate to Zorlone, as he had inspired me to write them.


You,
endowed, vacillating,
upon the threshold
of the elusive muse.
oblivious to everything -
fettered.

Realization,
dawning leisurely,
and the consummation
of passion and desire,
umbrage for lost
time, chances -
enlightenment


Liberation,
wanton, felicity,
deluge of words.
emancipating you from stillness,
alive, flying, skies,
empowering you -
freedom.


Write,
Enthused, unceasingly,
unafraid; and redeem
yourself, from the lengthy
slavery of silence.
Carve, indelibly -
words.



Thank You to My EC Top Droppers

Thank you to all who dropped on this blog, especially to my top droppers. God bless and happy blogging!

Dropper # of drops
The Esoterical Journey 15
Jean's Musings 11
Blogoncherry 8
Wayaworld 6
HotMomma 5
Three Different Directions 4
My Heart Voice 4
Sugar Coated World 3
Life, In My Own Backyard 3
HereandNow ~*4Angel*~ 3