Posted in Cali Colombia, child death, Colombia, family, friendship, Grief, hip surgery, life lessons, parents of deceased children, sadness, Signs of the Universe, Spiritual Presence, strength, Uncategorized

Another sign from Misha

All who follow my blog know I believe in the Universe and spiritual signs. The Universe, nature, and the environment are my religion. I’m not a believer in organized religion. That is not to say those that do have it wrong. This also doesn’t mean I am an atheist or an agnostic because I have no doubt that God exists. I’m happy to do my meditation within my world of beauty at Villa Migelita Ecolodge, because I consider nature to be my church. I believe that if we allow others to influence our thinking through their opinions and bias we cannot be free thinkers.

Everyone who follows my blog knows I am in Cali, Colombia because I have had hip surgery. I’m challenging myself every single day with physical therapy and it is not easy. I’m weak after my hour of intense exercises. I’m also shaky and hungry. Yesterday while riding the bike I felt a pain in my right leg and it is difficult to accept that I am in for a long process to get back to where I was before I found out I had CAM, and started living with undeniable pain in my hips. That pain is gone, but new pain is arriving as my physical therapist demands more from me at every session. I’m walking as much as I can now without crutches. This week my PT told me to use them less. I bring  one crutch with me now when I go out because I use it if I need to stand anywhere for a long time, for hills, and for stairs. I don’t  use them at all in the house. This is new territory for me, a transition perhaps, I  have to accept I’m no longer the exercise queen, but an older woman who still thinks young.

This past weekend I had so much fun with Jazmin, she is my rock. I find myself focusing on many things that are important to my physical self. Without her support it would be quite difficult to be in Cali for a month! I’m sure I would not have plans like I do, nor go out as much. She keeps me young in thought and in style. Including, making me wear shorts and changing the color of my lipstick!savingPNG

While we were out this past weekend I was thinking so much about Misha and how  Jazmin takes care of me. Jazmin is close to the age Misha would be if she was still alive. Sometimes, I feel Misha is inside of Jazmin. I know that sounds strange, but Misha would be telling me to change my lipstick, to wear shorts and she would be making me get out and do things. She was always that way with me, even when we didn’t get along. Misha was always  in my closet using my clothes. Now Jazmin uses my clothes also. She is so much like Misha, but there is no other side to Jazmin, she is who she is and never changes. Jazmin is a young mother like Misha would be and a person who appreciates what is happening in her life as we work together. She also is funny, inspiring, kind, and my best friend. Jazmin brings thoughts of Misha to my mind often.

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I’m wearing shorts! Even with those white legs of mine.

After a fun evening  with Jazmin on Saturday, when we got home there was a photo waiting for me in Facebook messenger. My cover photo of Misha as a young girl, with a  little friend . It was from a friend I hung out with in the early years of my marriage, before everything went wrong. I’m not really in touch with her much anymore, but it seems Misha always reaches out to me through different ways, always unexpectedly. The photo had been sent only minutes before I arrived back at my rented place here in Cali, Colombia. I had never seen this photo before, and it took me by surprise because as I said before I had been thinking a lot about Misha recently.

I have discovered over the past eight years that you make friends, lose others, make new bonds, but the emotional pain doesn’t change, it holds on with a grip that cannot be undone. More sadness and grief are always waiting in the corner ready to punch you in the gut when you least expect it. I’m still trying to make peace with losing touch with my granddaughter. I speak to her every so often, but she is being controlled and she can do nothing about it at her young age, she sounds very sad and scared to say much when I do talk with her. I’ve learned to accept that bad people will hurt children and destroy their self-esteem  to get even for long ago slights. Not even my slights, but maybe something Misha had done before she was killed.

When I was out that evening with Jazmin I kept thinking about how much Misha would enjoy the lifestyle I lead in Colombia, a life filled with adventure, peace and lovely friends. I often think she could really be herself here in Colombia, as I have found out myself. When I saw the photo of Misha’s sweet face with freckles, I teared up. Somehow, she is watching me. I can’t explain everything that has happened since she passed, but it seems when I have some difficult times she sends a message. This time it was her smile. Still the same as she grew older, lips together and mischievous. Honestly, she must know someway that I’ve been missing her a lot while I heal from surgery. She let me know she misses me too.

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Posted in Devastating sadness, Disappointment, Entreprenuer, expat life, Grief, life lessons, parents of deceased children, sadness, Uncategorized

Jail Time

That time I went to jail I have never written about. People who are close to me know. I am writing a chapter for my book now about my 36 hours in Broward County jail.  It is still so fresh in my memory. It was horrible, I was shown a side of society I didn’t know existed. Jail was something I read about in books, or watched in movies. The reality is very different. No matter your place in society, the treatment is disturbing from the moment you are arrested to the time inside the jail, the lack of compassion, the complete cruelty I experienced by the police and the people who worked in the prison. However, the other inmates were pretty darn cool with me. It was obvious to them I didn’t belong there. They comforted me, they gave me a lot of reasons to write it down, but I never did. I have never written about it before because it shows my daughter in a way that is not flattering, something that I have not wanted to do. I need to heal myself, recent events have made me realize I have not done that. Even with therapy, my move to Colombia, these moments in time exist and they bring me to places I only think about when I awake at night and cannot sleep.

I was arrested on false charges. I was an innocent to what the rules are when the police show up at your door. I had no clue about anything about police visits to your home. If I had known, this experience would never have happened. It was a nightmare that you dream and then wake up with your heart beating fast inside your chest. Surreal, incomprehensible, I am sure my mug shot exists somewhere even though all charges were expunged. I didn’t even understand that they were taking my mug shot. I was sobbing uncontrollably. I didn’t understand all that was happening and it was very harsh, with a lot of merciless treatment by all involved who work in the system of Broward County, Florida.

Now I am writing it down in a chapter for my book. I am leaving nothing out. The dreadful side of my daughter, the crappy friends she had, one who has my sweet grandchild in her care right now without any legal papers of custody. I am telling the story. All of it, the lessons I learned from experiences I had no control over. Including my daughter meeting the father of my beloved grandchild. I am going to tell you the entire experience from the time of my arrest until I was let out to the street outside the jail of Broward County without a charged cell phone, no shoes, and no money.

A wonderful cab driver gave me a ride with my promise of payment if he could just take me to my house. I didn’t even have a key to get inside my own home! I will always remember the kind treatment I received from the other inmates, from that cab driver, the father of my grandchild: who when he heard what Misha had done made her immediately go to drop the charges. This is hard just to say in a blog. I went to jail. I was 50 years old, I could have lost my job, that is what Misha did. Wait for it. Coming soon to all who want to buy my book. I am writing the chapter now. It is funny at times, but it is also very terrifying to anyone who might think it could never happen to you. It can and I experienced it.

 

 

Posted in child death, Devastating sadness, Disappointment, expat life, freedom, Grief, parents of deceased children, sadness, Uncategorized

Disappointment

Devastation is part of my life. Like a dark cloud that follows me with too many downpours. The thunderous clouds roll in, then the lightening strikes with such intensity I fall to the ground inside my brain. I cannot function. My already shattered heart breaks into smaller pieces. I silently look at the sky, the sun peaks out a bit and for a moment I feel hope. Then I remember I’ve lost another part of myself. I know the sun is behind those clouds and will appear again but it is not certain it will stay. I’ve learned to live my life with these painful moments.

Recently, I found love or so I thought. I came to the United States to see my boyfriend. I came to see him with the thought this will be fun going back and forth to Colombia because I could see my granddaughter more often. What I didn’t expect was the situation that occurred immediately with my granddaughter. I was denied visitation and my right to see her. It was devastating. I’m taking care of the situation but to be in town and not have her to enjoy and participate in my activities made me very sad. Not stressed out, but  grief-stricken. I felt the same way I did when Misha was murdered. I had a day of  weeping sadness. Yet, no one was murdered I just might never see my granddaughter again.

One day. Think about that, one day of normal human emotion.

So here is the reason I was dumped. I’m never going to be able to come to the United States and be happy. Really? I’ve learned long ago to accept situations that are without reason. Mean people who don’t want me to find out things that are happening, things that are most likely illegal. I have a boyfriend in the United States and suddenly I will be there more. I’m denied my rights to see my granddaughter.

Imagine my surprise when he dumped me. The man who said I’m amazing for what I’ve accomplished through all of  this adversity. One day of  natural behavior and he can’t be with me. I’m never going to be happy when I visit the USA. It’s not about what I have or don’t have. It’s about being sad. That was it. He said I’m always going to live here, you will live there. Yes that is true. I was blindsided by what happened with my granddaughter. She is the only part left of my deceased daughter.

That is all it took, one day of sadness.

So, I am going back to my paradise and to my peaceful existence in Colombia. I’m done with him. I don’t give second chances at my age. I’m in good hands with a lawyer I highly recommend. Howard Friedman of Ft. Lauderdale. He is going to take care of this situation once and for all. I’m heartbroken not to have my Amaya, but I’m in good hands. And that guy, he is history.