Tag: change

You go a little crazy when your child dies and that craziness brought me to Colombia. A decision many found controversial, but a decision that has provided healing to me after many years of turmoil. This journey, often messy, often wonderful, and often sad brought me to a point where I know whom and what I personally need to fulfill myself, the main discovery is I am my own best friend. My friendships with others have been involved in the shaping of my life, but ultimately I am the one who I need to count on during good and bad times. My mom would call this character if she was still alive. I call it strength to be me. No matter how many outside influences try to change my character, I am the one responsible for my life. The past is always in the forefront of my musings and brings forth the question of how our life relationships play a part in our life journey?

Contemplating while I lay sleepless some nights, I look back on friendships that played important roles in this formation of my life. The life I envisioned when I raised my children gone to the wayside, with only memories left to remind me it happened. When I was that soccer Mom, going to my daughter’s games to hear her cheer, routing for my son at basketball games, volunteering in the school cafeteria, making sure my family was well cared for, my thoughts when I envisioned the future were always about my children going to college and me encouraging them as they began their own life journey. There is no crystal ball to show us the future, but we have relationships that are part of the composition of all that develops. Did the unfolding of my life come with me in a predestined package when I was born? Did my decisions cause the problems my children encountered in their teen years or was it what we call free will which we all exercise as humans.

I have written of my first marriage and the birth of my daughter which you can read about here: https://hummingsfromparadise.wordpress.com/2013/11/22/being-myself/. I met my best friend for life when I married my first husband, she is still with me today as my confidant, cheering me on as I move forward here in Colombia, happy for me and what I have accomplished. Isn’t this the way we should be with our friends? Supportive, honest, and loving? I know nothing will come between us, as she is the sister I always wanted, the person I go to for advice about anything, and she is non-judgmental, which applies to me also. I really do not gossip about others, even those that have hurt me. If I have something to say, I say it to the face of the person and it is between us only. During my many years on this earth I have acquired and lost friends, some dropping from my life without notice as I raised my family, others being set aside because of treacherous behavior, and those who left from their own false judgments based on gossip or jealousy. Then there are those who have entered my life recently who are enriching me with kindness, support, and shared love for all living creatures of this world. People I have met through my website http://www.facebook.com/VillaMigelita. I remember watching TV on a standing television without a remote, and now I have connected with many through technology and I consider them friends in my new life of Colombian living! Lastly, the friends that I had lost contact with, finding me again (through FB) with their own tales of what occurred during the years we had not talked. What does it all mean?

I reflect on much during those nights of insomnia. I have one particular incident that bothers me constantly since my daughter’s funeral. When I was in my twenties before both of my marriages I had a friend. I considered her a best friend for many years. Her son grew up with my daughter as playmates he was almost 4 years older but we always did things together and when I married again, my ex-husband became friends with them both. They were always at our house, went on vacation with us, we called them family. The day Misha spoke of the incidents to me the sun was shining, my mood happy, my son in the car with us as we parked to go inside a store. “Mom he touched me where he shouldn’t have and had me touch him where I should not.” The air left the car, the words were inside my head but I could not believe them. The boy who grew up with both my children molested my daughter who had just turned 10, he was almost 14. He took her innocence. He did it while I was in the house with my 3-year-old son right there when he did it. These details came out during her counseling. The friendship ended. You would think that would be the end of this story but it is not. My ex-husband brought them back into his life when my daughter was killed. He brought that boy now a man to sit beside him in the front pew of the church next to my son. He placed the ex-friend in the pew behind where all my family was. My ex-husband had no one from his HUGE family attend except his sister. I stew on this question often; “Why did I not make a scene and have them removed?” I was in so much shock from her death is my only explanation, because I always stand up for what is right. It is something that really bothers me, so I am writing it down to get it off my chest. I wish I had approached the Priest and told him what this kid had done and I know he would have changed the situation. I did not and now I live with this inside me and will forever. I will never understand why my ex-husband did this. I know his motivation was to hurt me, but this was his daughter he disrespected at her funeral by bringing the young man who took her self-esteem during a time in her life when she should have been discovering who she was. He brought these people around my son again at a vulnerable stage in his life. It broke my heart, and during the whole funeral I was aware of their hateful presence. This was an act of treachery I meditate about often, and I never can find an answer to it. Sometimes there are not answers in our life journey, maybe we find out later when we are no longer living on this earth.

Many people were so wonderful during the week of my daughter’s death, I can not emphasize that enough. Then the funeral was over and they were gone. Poof, abracadabra, gone. Then me wandering the house with so many memories of my children, not just Misha, but my son, who was not with me much anymore. I remember that time vividly. It was awful. I still was going through the divorce from hell, and now had the huge stone of grief carried upon my back, carried with such sadness because my daughter left many angry about her death and I was the person they all took it out on. Now all those people (well most of them) are my friends because they realize I had nothing to do with the actions of my daughter in the year preceding her death. If anyone was asked they would say “she is not consumed with her daughter, but her death has changed her.” I actually went to a retirement luncheon the year after she died, full of much anticipation to see people I had not seen in a long while who knew what had happened. I was shocked by the reception of people I knew for years. I was barely spoken to, I was ignored by friends of many years, it was cruel. I then started putting things together and I realized that the people who supported me during Misha’s funeral and death really did not like me. It was clear. It was awful. I will never go back to a retirement luncheon again because I have enough of my own grief and sadness to last me a lifetime and I do not need other’s to place their preconceived perceptions on me also. I had a friend for years that I always notified of my arrival back in the States, who never really responded. Out of some sense of guilt I kept contacting her because she was wonderful during the divorce and the death of my daughter. Then she just changed. The last contact with her was me asking if she wanted to meet myself and another of her friends for lunch when I arrived? Her response? One word; “maybe” that was it she is out of my life.

So that is enough of the negativity, let’s talk about the good things. A very dear friend who was my maid of honor in the wedding of the father of my daughter recently contacted me through Facebook. We have reconnected and I see her and her husband as part of my life forever. They are making plans to visit Villa Migelita. Her husband still calls me “Missy” my nickname from childhood. Another friend also has reconnected, she a flight attendant with so much of the same stories of her horrific divorce. Then there are the flight attendants who admire what I have done, not knowing me well but asking to be my friend on Facebook, and the flight attendant friends who never have left my side during this journey of life I am on, never judging always supportive. They know who they are. I love them. Me, well, I am real excited about the Bed and Breakfast I will soon open, just like a new chapter in a book. It is my life; good or bad. I am struggling every day to get past Misha’s death, but I am winning.

For those who follow my blogs, the trial for the killer of my daughter will take place starting June 2nd. My trip and subsequent publicity made a difference.