SEXKITTEN

Woman, dry your tears

The trial is over. Now the healing begins. I know what the outcome was going to be a long time ago. I knew that I had no chance not when the 'facts' of the GAL's report was based on Cx's lies. Four different lawyers told me that the judge's decision would be whatever she recommended unless a psychological evaluation contradicted the report. I consistently asked for a psychological evaluation on both CX and myself. The judge did not order it. And so, CX got custody despite the mountain of documented evidence against him of almost nine years of false allegations and harassment, lies, contradictions and manipulations that ended up in their hands.

The judge said that I did not provide any evidence that he is crazy even though he ruled that the evidence that I have would not be admitted. And there are serious allegations made against CX that the GAL did not investigate. And he didn't believe me when I told of the horror that I have suffered for the last eight plus years. He said that I am emotional and stopped short of saying I'm crazy and making up things about CX. He says it's clear that I hate CX which makes me not credible. He said that he does not think that I would foster a relationship with CX and Caesar. He says that my claims of being harassed and abused by CX for the last 8 plus years are in my head.

Did I imagine all the false allegations that have been filed against me?

Did I imagine being accused of having a criminal record? Claims that I chase children with knives.

Have I imagined the countless documented times that I have appeared in court to defend myself against one false claim after another? One emergency order after another?

Did I imagine the false police reports? Did I imagine being accused of breaking into his apartment? Did I imagine the false orders of protections he filed then claims that I violated?

Did I imagine him trying to get me arrested for things that I didn't do?

Did I imagine getting evicted because of lies that he told to the apartment management about Thorr. And left me out on the street and then tried to come to my rescue?

Did I imagine the knife he put to my throat?

Did I imagine the lies that he was telling to school personnel at Caesar's school, daycare workers, doctors, his friends, ex-girlfriends, DCFS about me?

Have I imagined that he has my own son, Caesar telling lies about me?

Did my friends imagine being targeted by him too? Did my ex's imagine being accused of being 'a danger to Caesar'?

Did one of my former attorney imagine being accused of having an affair with me and having to answer to the bar association?

Did my friend, the police officer imagine being investigated by internal affairs because of false allegations that CX filed against him?

I don't attend all of Caesar's activities. Not because I don't want to, but to avoid putting myself in dangerous, toxic situations, to be further lied about, have false allegations filed about me, risk being arrested for things I didn't do. For this, I am accused of being an un-involved parent. CX is applauded for being an upstanding citizen citing his credentials as a PhD, a criminal and civil lawyer. A Marine and a former police offer, listed as proof of his standing in society. It is these credentials that he hides behind while he continues his abuse.

I don't support CX's bizarre views where he raises Caesar to associate manhood with violence. I'm accused of not supporting Caesar's activities that aide him in being a man.

After nine years of trying to accommodate and negotiate with a madman only to have him use my ache for peace to terrorize me, I have learned not to make deals with demons. For this, I am accused of being uncompromising.

For having the audacity to speak up and against being abused, for defending myself, I am labeled difficult to deal with. Stubborn. Crazy. The harder I fight for freedom and peace of mind from this mad-man, the more I fight for Caesar the more I was viewed as angry and hostile.

Dare to be crazy enough to want to change the world. Dare to stand for something. Dare to tell the truth even if it will be used to prosecute you. Dare not to be a willing victim.

"How do you feel?" a friend ask me when I got back from court.

I feel as if I've been run over by a truck and survive. But if I had to do it over again, I would do it all over again,"

I would never forgive myself if something bad happens to Caesar in CX's care and I didn't fight for him. One day he will know that I fought with my last breath. That I showed up to fight knowing that I would be beaten time and again. That I stood my ground against two lawyers and a judge with only truth as my defense. Are you crazy enough to want to change the world?

One day the truth will be known, not because of anything that I have done or will do, but because the monster will come out to feed. He already has his next 'Target' in sight. People like him always do. Crazy is crazy.

To all the Targets who know the truth and fight for your children...I know how alone and terrified you are. I know how angry injustice has made you. Don't lose yourself to hate. Don't become like them. It is not personal. Even as I sit there listening to the judge repeat the lies that CX told about me and which are adapted as truth and labeled 'evidence' I know that it is not personal. Our stories ARE bizarre. Just as we did not understand how bizzare our world had become when a psychopath enters it, neither does the system that prosecutes us for telling the truth about them. How many times have we thought twice about telling people what was happing to us for fear that they would not believe us?

The below excerpt is from Child Custody Justice I came across the site recently.

"...Many mothers who take entirely appropriate steps to protect their children from exposure to abuse are being insulted by court personnel, harshly and unethically criticized and ridiculed in custody evaluations and psychological assessments, and required to send their children into unsupervised contact or even custody with their abusive fathers. And sometimes these rulings are coming in the face of overwhelming evidence that the children have both witnessed abuse and suffered it directly, evidence that would convince any reasonable and unbiased person that the children were in urgent need of protection. Family courts across the US and Canada appear to be guilty day in and day out of reckless endangerment of children,"

There are others out there who understand. They have seen and dealt with these people.

After I finished reading the article, I felt as if a friend had taken my hand. Never stop telling your truth. I know that it's hard. Weep yes. Weep your tears of heartbreak and sorrow. Weep for your child/children's lost innocence. Weep. But let there come a day that you dry your tears woman, and know that when one door closes another opens.
Be prepared for choosing not to live a miserable, defeated life to be used against you.

If you laugh, you will be accused of not caring.

If you cry, you will be accused of being emotional.

If you laugh and cry, you will be accused of being out of control.

If you don't accept the lies that are being told against you, you will be accused of not wanting to take responsibility for your actions.

If you defend yourself you will be accused of being angry and hostile.

If you tell the truth about the abuser, you will be accused of making up stories him.

If you declare that your life is important, that YOU are important and deserves peace. You will be accused of being self-fish.

All this and more the system will do to you in your fight to save your child/children. The system is broken. I went in looking for help, believing that I would be helped. I came out further abused. CX received a pat on the back and control of Caesar who he believes that he will use to control me. Wanna bet? Are you crazy enough to want to change the world?

Don't allow anyone to take your power. Don't allow them to tell you who you are and take your happiness. Laugh all the laughter that is within you. And never stop loving.

It is the love that you possess that they want. It is your will and spirit that they want.

Hold on to yourself. With all that you've lost, this is the one thing that you cannot afford to lose.

That which is Written...

I received a notice today from CX's lawyer, that the judge has granted their order to seal all proceedings, pleadings, transcripts and testimony in our case. That the Clerk of the Court has been directed to impound and seal the court files and restrict and prohibit access to all documents and electronic referenced to the file without court order."

I was not notified of yesterday's court date and will be filing a notice to vacate this order. I want the lies that he's told about me available for all to see. Those who study and understand psychopathy would recognize the pattern of pathological lying and contradictions.

I have expressed getting a Woman's Rights Group involve. That's the only reason that CX is asking for the files to be sealed. It is to protect his plots and schemes and lies and to keep me silent.

This is a custody case...
To ask that the files be sealed is without basis and shows just how terrified he is of the truth being told. Dreading exposure, he now seek the legal system to protect his lies.

Well, documentation exists.

As a target of this kind of abuse, it is now my mission to do my part in bringing awareness to this issue so that others can benefit.

I know how dangerous speaking out is for me.
If CX is The psychopath that I believe him to be, being unmasked is what he fears most. He needs to shut me up before people start to believe me and decide to look at the evidence. That is why he wants the files sealed.

His lies have taken on a life of their own that he did not count on. I am supposed to be destroyed by now.

I am not CX's only victim. I am not his first and I will not be his last.

And justice may be around the corner. If not by the system, then nature. He's sick. Karma may soon come knocking at his door. It may be that all I have to do is sit back and watch nature take its course.

*CX knows about my site and will attempt to bring his poison here. He will attempt to get me shut down. I suspect that he's been doing that already.*

Every word that I have written here for the last 8 plus years is saved.

“That which is written, cannot be undone. The evidence, seal or not, exists. It is only a matter of time for that which exists in the dark to make it's way into the light.

If one tells the truth and loses....one still wins. You didn't compromise who you are. You did not sell your soul.

There is No Reward for the Truth

I spent three days in court last week in what has become an endless custody battle for Caesar.

If I did not have cause to worry about Caesar's physical and psychological well-being, I would not be involve in a custody case. Caesar is a child, not a piece of property and it tears me apart that he is being used as a weapon of hate to satisfy an insane man’s appetite for destruction.

I have no doubt that CX will take every shot at me even if Caesar is standing in the way, especially if Caesar is standing in the way. That is what makes CX so dangerous. That is why this battle must be fought and this story told. That is why I walk into court armed only with truth as my defense knowing that the system would use it to prosecute me. There is no reward for telling the truth. It is the liar who will be rewarded. The system is broken.

I show up anyway... I will never stop fighting for Caesar.

In our first custody ‘battle’ that started in 2003- 2004 when I filed for child support and CX filed for custody, my friend Tyson said to me one day, “Give him custody. If you are in a relationship with a man who wages war on you because you ask him to support his child, let him keep his money, and the responsibility. Do yourself a favor; take the freedom that you are given to strenthen and empower yourself. Caesar will always be your son, Kitten,”

The mere idea was unthinkable. Caesar was so young I could still feel the echo and longing of my womb. The void where we lived inseparable for nine months still pulsed with a void that was deep and raw.

“I will never do that,” I said. Tyson studied me for a long moment. “Why do so many women insist upon functioning from a place of weakness while men use that weakness to abuse and control them?”

I could not answer then, and the logic I could not grasp.

Desperate to end the ‘custody war’ I negotiated joint custody in hopes of a peaceful parental partnership. I didn’t know that peace would be an elusive dream for which I would long, but would never attain with a man like CX.

Here we are again… I understand now what Tyson meant so many years ago, and would have no problem giving CX residential custody if it would end the war and give Caesar peace. I can't imagine a greater honor than paying child support for my son. I’m fighting, not for money. What money? We've given more money to the system than we have between us combine. This tragedy is jarring in its senselessness. I'm here because I have met Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I know that Caesar is not safe with CX.

When I ran out of money and my lawyer withdrew, I defend myself. I have only truth. I am not a lawyer and don't know what I'm doing. I don't know the rules. I made many mistakes. I objected when I should not have. I interrupted when I shouldn't. I chuckled a couple of times especially when CX was on the stand,asserting, "She's a criminal. She's been arrested. Here's the proof" The proof he was talking about are false police reports that he'd filed against me. The judge did not like that I chuckled. I tried to explain that I had never been arrested for anything, ever. I was threatened with being held in contempt. I broke down when I testifed about the last 8 plus years of being terrorized, vilifed, threatened and abused by CX. The judge said that my behavior is irrational.

Where I am armed with the truth, CX is armed with lies and manipulations and years of carefully orchestrated plots and schemes, with the intent to strike and kill at all cost, no matter what.

“…We have suffered their vilification and distortion campaigns that spread into our children’s schools, doctor’s offices, workplaces, and to friends and family. Often only years after it started, we find that we have been described as vile, hateful, dangerous people to hundreds or thousands of people around us who have never even met us but believe all these lies…” Except taken from: Personality Disorder Abusers in Family Law courts

I found out in court that an ex-girlfriend and friend of CX, a psychologist, had called DCFS on me based on stories that CX had told her about me. She testified that CX put Caesar on the phone to collaborate the stories. She had never met or spoken to me. I understand that using Caesar in that situation had put her in a difficult situation. That was CX's intention. I am torn between my understanding that we are both victims of a manipulating, psychotic man and feeling a deep sense of sadness at how easily we can damage each other with so little to go on. I also understand that people like CX are notorious for using others to do their dirty work. See Parental Alienation.

I am up against a mastermind.

I know that.

I went in anyway… armed only with the truth and whatever courage I could find.

“Just because you’re afraid, is not a good enough reason to not do what’s right. Just because you may lose does not mean you should not fight,”

“You will one day find that there is no reward for the truth,” my father once said to me. That doesn't mean that you should lie,"

I was a teenager and refused to compromise my principles even to get out of trouble. Instead, I told the truth and took the punishment. Life has not tamed me. I am still the person who I was born to be.

My father picked me up from school and we went to the beach. We walked in silence with sand sifting between our toes. He looked at me with pride and sorrow. He knew that I would triumph and I would suffer.

I will not be silent.

What is the truth?

My truth lies in the love of my boys who knows that I will slay dragons for them. In the friendships that I have maintained for fifteen, twenty years and who knows my heart. The men I loved and who still love and respect me today long after the relationships have ended for they were treated with respect, and honesty, even Rey. We have grown enough to forgive ourselves and each other. And my family who has never for one moment doubted my character. They know me in all my complexities and beauty.

I will not stay silent.

*CX knows about this site*

And still I write...

In fact, I will be writing a lot more. I plan to launch a new website focused on informing women about abusive men. I hope to offer tips and stories of survial and courage from others that will empower. More on that later.

I will not be silent.

Eight Years

Last month marked 8 years since I’ve been blogging. And as I often do each year, I go back and look at where I've been.

I have come close many, many times to shutting down this site. To start anew from where one chapter ended and another began. I’m glad I didn't.

I am the mistakes, the consequences and the lessons learned, the young girl and the woman, the ignorant and the informed, the clueless and the evolved. The past, present and future are irrevocable linked. And for the things that I've done and are not proud, I have accepted and forgiven myself.

It is said that to understand the present, one cannot forget their past.

To understand who I am, I cannot deny who I have been.

Today I can cry and laugh with the woman I was back then.

I look through the mirror of my words and linger in the presence of my past. The emotions are bitter-sweet. Like love, some wound and others heal. Some take and others give. They embrace me, but make no attempt to keep me. I have journeyed beyond their grasp, through heartbreaks and fears, through hatred and love, through trials, tribulations, and triumphs. My past understand it's rightful place. It visits now and then, like memories.

On the Island where I was born, we had an old custom:
When a child is born, the parents would plant a tree and bury the child's umbilical cord at its root. It is believed that a life-long spiritual bond is formed between the child and the tree.

My tree is still alive and it’s magnificent. It still bears fruit in abundance. Looking at it last time I was home, I had a moment of clarity...

All that I have been, I still am.
Just more…
I am a tapestry stitched upon by life
Limb by limb, one leaf at a time
Like the branches that spread like wings, I have soared.
Like the broken limbs snapped by the wind, I know pain.
And like the fallen leaves scatter the ground, I am still searching.
But my root is deep and strong
Made of innocence, it sustains me.

I am like my tree.

*Thank you all for sharing this journey with me.*

The Lost Children

I pull up at the drive-thru window to pay for my chai-latte and finds a familiar face smiling at me.

“Hey there, Kitten,” Bill greets me.

“What are you doing working here?” I ask.

“Didn’t Angella, tell you?”

“She didn’t tell me that you work here. Did you guys move back?”

He turns off his microphone, “The bitch divorced me and tried to take me for
everything I have,"

I stare at him.

He turns his microphone back on and smiles. “I started seven months ago. It’s not that bad,"

Angella is an old friend whom I haven't seen in a few years. Bill had landed a six-figure job in another state and they moved away with their twin infant sons. I haven't spoken with her in over a year.

Angella said that she divorced Bill because he was physically and verbally abusive. He responded by filing for custody of the children. He accused her of being bipolar, that she abuses the children and kept calling DCFS on her.

After a lengthy and costly court battle, he was ordered to pay child support and alimony. That's when things turned really strange. Bill checked himself into a mental hospital claiming to have suffered a nervous break-down due to stress.

Once released, he began taking jobs at fast food restaurants, and now claims that he does not make enough money to pay child support and or alimony.

She is now a single mother raising the twins on her own, working two jobs just to pay the
bills, and is depending on other people to raise the boys who she seldom sees.

I thought of Angella and the boys long after I got off the phone. This is a sensitive issue for me. CX did similar things to me. I am a nine-year survivor of character assasination, psychological control and abuse.

The first time I filed for child support, I ended up in a war zone. He accused me of abuse, put a knife to my throat and threatened to kill me. He accused me of threatening to kill him, his mother and grandmother. He called DCFS on me numerous times. Once while a DCFS worker was at the house, CX called telling me that he is going to kill himself. I put him on the speaker so that the DCFS man could hear him. The DCFS worker told him to stop wasting his time and advised me to file charges against him. CX claimed that I flirted with the DCFS officer. He didn't stop.

He started using Caesar to tell teachers and daycare workers,doctors, friends and girlfriends things about me so that they would call DCFS on me. He accused me of breaking into his apartment, filed charges against me, and tried to get me arrested and prosecuted for something that I didn't do.

Few years ago, he told the property manager at the apartment where I lived that Thorr broke into someone's apartment so that they would evict us. I ask for a police report. There is none. The 'family friend' who reported the incident wanted to remain anonymous.

The attacks were not confined to me. When a friend, a police officer came by information that CX who was working as a professor at a university was on campus and was allegedly threatening to commit suicide. The police officer called the university and inform them about his bizarre past interactions with CX and to take caution. CX contacted internal affairs and made a mountain of accusations against him, one of which is that the officer, came to his job and was hiding out in a tree with a sniper gun trying to kill him.

Internal affairs (is an organization that investigates police officers charged with misconduct.) determined that the officer was at the police station at the time that CX claims that he was in a tree with a sniper gun.

The insane allegations piled one atop another. Every new lie contradicts the one before it, and the one before it...

He and I are in court for the second time. I filed for child support, and once again, CX filed for custody. His M.O is the same, "Character assasination"

First he said he shouldn't pay support because Caesar lives with him, and that I'm not involve in his life and does not do anything for him. Then he accused me of neglecting and abandoning Caesar. I'm painted as a raving lunatic who chases children with knives. He accused an innocent old man of being a child molester. Accused a boyfriend of abusing Caesar. Claims that I am violent and hostile. Claims that I have physical fights with people on a regular basis, only he cannot present a single person with whom I've had any kind of physical confrontation.

I'm a geek. My idea of fun outside of being with the boys, is working out, reading and writing. You will find me in a coffee shop sipping on a steaming cup of chai latte, with
my reader, but you will never find me on the street painting the town red.

I have a weakness for single mothers...

I know our struggles intimately, the desperation, heartbreaks and tears of helplessness. I have watched Thorr and Caesar sleep with pain in my heart and fear for their innocence and childhood lost. I have struggled with guilt that I am not present enough to give them more of me, not because I don't want to, but because I am mother, father and bread-winner.

I have wondered how I was going to put food on the table and keep a roof over our heads. I have taken jobs I didn't want, and which did not pay enough to cover the bills. But I had to feed them. I was all they had.

In court, CX brought a daycare worker to testify that I picked up Caesar late sometimes. I was further abused by a court system where believability depends on who is willing to lie, use, abuse and manipulate to tip the scale in their favor.

I would rather lose.

I learn really fast that a court of law is not the place to go for justice. It's a business like most things.

I have a weakness for single mothers...

I have watched helpless while Thorr waits for a father who did not come. And having to wonder what will become of his heart.

I weep every day for Caesar's young heart and his safety. Only nine years old, his life has been embroiled in parental warfare, instigated by a demented, pathological father who does not think twice about psychologically abusing and manipulating him to terrorize me. What will become of Caesar's heart?

"...a psychopath is incapable of loving anyone. He regards all people, including his children, as tools to get what he wants and as his personal possessions. Like you, they represent objects he will manipulate and control. Like you, they confirm his virility and personal power. As he got tired of you and of every other woman he played with, he will quickly tire of your child, his newest toy."
Excerpt from the article: "If you have children with a psychopath" by psychopathyawareness

Bill’s smiling face peeking out of the fast food window flashes hauntingly through my mind.

“You can’t blame me for Thorr’s behavior,” My ex-husband once said in a discussion about Thorr’s reign of terror. “I didn’t have anything to do with raising him,” I didn’t waste time telling him what is wrong with "not having anything to do with raising his son"

How does a father get to be so heartless that he resort to destroying his children?

What kind of father would rather give his money to lawyers while his child/children goes hungry?

What kind of man takes pleasure in the suffering of the mother of his child/children?

We are a society infested with an ocean of lost children with no sense of who they are, searching for their lost innocence in all the wrong places.

Fatherless children have become an epidemic.
Single motherhood is an epidemic.
Dead-beat dads, is an epidemic.
Unfit parents,(man/woman) is an epidemic.
And many more children who are at the mercy of parents who do more damage present than if they were gone, is an epidemic.

Life does not allow us to stay innocent for long. Do we have to take the little time that they get?

Can we not join forces and become partners in raising our children?

Judgment

After I wrote Women know how to fake orgasm... I was flooded with emails telling me that both Jennifer and I are going to hell, me for being friends with her and in doing so encourages her behavior. The bible is discussed in great detail condemning us as sinners. I read the entire bible when I was twelve years old. I haven't since. I could be wrong, but I don't recall anything that would damn a person to hell for dating or being friends with someone who dates married men.

I did not respond to any of these emails and I wasn't going to write about it, but the emails got me thinking about morality. Religion and politics are not topics that I wish to discuss here even though I have much to say about both. But on matters of moral judgment, I find myself having conversations with myself out loud. And when that happens, I must write.

“We have to let the ghosts in,” My father used to say. “They won’t go away until you let them in,”

That’s why I write. I have a lot to say and my mind will not allow me to keep silent.

I am not worthy of passing judgment on anyone. I am no less flawed. I have never dated a married man, but I have done other things that some may find equally if not more objectionable. I lust. I write about sex. I don't think homosexuality and lesbianism is a sin. I believe that people are who they are. I think that if you want to be a whore, be a whore if being a whore makes you happy. I have a child out of wedlock and I don't really believe in marriage. I don't trust churches. I think that alot of the pastors of our day take advantage of the weak and use the bible to do it. When I have sex it’s for pure, unadulterated pleasure not for procreation. I’ve cheated, see Gypsy woman. I can make a long list of things that I have done and beliefs that I have that one would call 'sinful’. When it comes to individual life choices, I am indifferent. It is up to us as individuals to decide who we are and who we want to be. Who am I to pass judgment on anyone?

Jennifer is an exceptional human being, one that I am proud to call friend. We’re all flawed, but we are also a work in progress and perhaps should not be defined by the mistakes that we make, but rather what those mistakes have taught us, cost us and make of us. My mistakes have taught me my greatest lessons, the biggest of which is that I am still becoming.

If I were to be judged on my mistakes, I would have long been banished in the wilderness. I am thankful to my friends and family for knowing that I am more than I am sometimes. I am thankful that they are able to show me compassion and understanding and stick by me, even when they disagree with me, and for loving me even though I may at times disappoint them. As an evolving being, I like to think that I posses the intelligence to recognize, accept, and understand that we all falter on this life journey.

And so, I will continue to hold Jennifer’s hands and wipe her tears and listen not because I agree with her, but because I am her friend and I understand humanity’s shortcomings.

It is said that life is the greatest teacher. Jennifer is a good student.

If the only argument one has is that we're going to hell because the bible 'say so' it's going to take a lot more than that to convince me to give up my friendship with Jennifer.

My faith was once strong it is now weak. I have more questions than answers about life. As an adult who have grown to think critically, I do not function on blind faith.

Growing up, I believed what the preachers taught in church that heaven is in the sky and hell is beneath my feet. I wonder if this reality that we live, this time and space, is this limbo for I have seen and experience what I believe to be both heaven and hell here on earth.

The older I get, the more I realize that I don’t know much about anything. I don’t know what is right or wrong for anyone. I can only speak on what feels right and wrong for me, and there are times when I am wrong about that.

This realization that I am still becoming humbles me. It teaches me tolerance and acceptance. I go about my life now with an openness that offers me freedom.

That’s not to say that I don’t care about anything. Far from it – my passions run deep and my will is fierce and bottomless – all of my battles are fought on principle. There are people and things in my life for whom and for which I am willing to fight to the death. My family – my name... and beyond that there are issues that I will not keep silent about, child abuse – molestation – rape – physical and psychological abuse of any man and woman – socio-economic injustice – racism --exploitation...

But when it comes to passing judgment on others, I prefer to live life like a fallen Fall leaf dancing in the wind, colorful and detached. I don’t know anything.

The Hopeful Romantic

Kenny once said to me, “I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you when on the worst day of my life, you showed up. I can't rememember a time when you weren't there to help me though the tough times. That’s when I knew you loved me too,”

“You needed me,” I said.

“A lot of people avoid you when you need them. That's how you know that they were never there in the first place,"

We were in bed. His taste and smell clings intimately to my skin. He traces tiny kisses down my back, linger in places he finds particularly sensitive, and I hold my breath in ecstasy.

Have you ever sat in the rain with someone when there’s shelter?
Have you ever spent a night at the hospital,in a chair, afraid to go to sleep because you want to be there when he opens his eyes?
Have you ever shown up to share in the worst moment of a man's life, to carry some of his pain, because even in his darkest moment, being by his side is still the most beautiful place in the world?
Have you ever loved a dying man until his last moment?

I am a hopeful romantic. I’ve always been. I don’t believe in the fairy-tale kind of love or the Knights in shining armor, and riding off into the sunset to live happily-ever-after kind of love. Life is not a fairytale and there will come trials that will take every relationship to the edge. Do we stand together or crumble beneath the strain of adversity?

I believe in the kind that when the chips are down and I reach for a lifeline, he takes my hand.
He forgive my mistakes because he knows my heart.
He accepts my imperfections, not from disillusion, but from knowing my value.
He chooses me knowing that I’m sick, and may have a tough and treacherous road ahead, but he wants to take care of me.
He will take me penniless because he knows my ambition and believe in my promise.

I was not the only one who showed up for Kenny’s dark moments. He carried me through mine. He wiped my tears and followed me into my nightmares. He peeled away the layers I wear for protection and left me trembling, vulnerable and innocent. "You're safe," he said. I believed him.

Over lunch with Leah, and a conversation about marriage, I realized how deeply ingrained societal expectations can be, and how thoroughly those expectations can distort who we are. I think that I’ve been able to hold on to the person who I was born to be, unmarred by all the things that I am told I am supposed to do and be. That is why I am still standing outside the fence. I like it here.

I can't remember the last time I sat down with a girlfriend when marriage did not become a major topic of discussion. It seems more pressing now that I am getting older. I'm still in my thirties, yet I'm being told that the train is going to get away if I don't get on it right now. Let me say this...I will stand calmly by and watch the train leave the station and not make a move to get on it.

“You’re not getting younger..." she was saying, "And as you move forward, you will have to learn to settle for things you do not want. You will have to look the other way, you will have to bite your tongue, and…”

I touched her hand. “No,” I said softly. A smile tugs the left corner of my lips where all my smiles begin. “I will do none of those things,"

“But Kit, you’ll never get married,”

“Marriage is of no importance to me,” I said.

“You keep saying that, but every woman wants to get married,”

“Who told you that?” I asked.

She pauses as if she finds the question ridiculous. “That’s the role you’re born into. That's what we’re supposed to do,”

“I'm not supposed to do any such thing," I said.

She stares at me and sighs as if I'm a stubborn child who just won't listen.

"Why would I settle for someone who is not worthy of me just to say I'm married? Does getting older make me less valuable?"

"No, but we all know that it's harder to get a man the older we get,"

"So be it," I said. "I am more valuable right now than I have ever been. I’ll be more valuable five, ten-years from now because I will have an even better understanding and appreciation of myself and others. No. There will be no settling. I demand a love that is worthy of me and nothing else will do," I said, thinking that it was when I hit thirty that I began to grow into myself. That’s when my decisions became more sound and I could begin to articluate in an intelligent manner what I want and didn't want from a relationship, and why. I did my settling and lowering of my standards in my twenties when I didn't know better. And now in my thirties, I'm being told that I'm getting too old to have standards. Huh?

Could it be that the solution to the high divorce rate is for us to stop getting married for the wrong reasons?

"Kit, no one wants to die alone,"

“I would rather die alone than be in a marriage where I have to look the other way and bite my tongue. And as for dying alone, we all die alone,” I said.

“I thought you said that you would’ve marry Kenny,”

“Because he wanted to make me his wife and I loved him,”

“Don’t you want someone to grow old with?”

“He died,” I said. I could see the jarring impact of my words and for a moment we fall silent.

We can plan all we want, but how do we know that we'll get to grow old with the man/woman we love?

“I don’t want you to be alone,” she said.

“What's wrong with being alone? And why would I be alone? Do you not see the way some of these men are watching me?” I flashed a lopsided smile.

I have been loved, and one does not forget the taste.

Women know how to fake orgasm...

Jennifer and I collapse in the steam room after our workout. She called as I was heading out the door, her voice strain with the effort not to lose herself. I know what is coming. We’ve been here many times before. I ask her to meet me at the gym and she did.

I’ve written several posts about Jennifer in the past. She is an extremely intelligent woman, who in most areas of her life is capable of making sensible, rational, common sense decisions. Yet for many years now she’s been involve with a married man who gave her an engagement ring promising marriage as soon as he divorces his wife.

Jen is still wearing the ring, and he’s still married… three years later.

I have long stopped asking questions and giving advice. She stops by to talk, and I listen. She cries and I hand her napkins to blow her nose and wipe her tears. I don’t understand and I no longer try to. She fascinates me; this ability to stay and believe and fight for someone else’s husband. I once ask her, “Jen what is it that is broken in you that you choose this life?”

“What is broken in you that you would never think of staying, not for a single moment and fight for a man you love, even if he is married?” she asked.

We stared at each other, me thinking about her twisted logic. “Self-love,” I said. “Reason and logic, pride and compassion for his wife and children who may love him too,”

“He doesn’t love her,”

“So he says,”

“I want him,” She said stomping as if wanting to plant herself into the ground to solidify her position.

“Then one day you shall find yourself beaten bloody and washed up on shore, with the realization that you have given your life to a man who places no value on it,” I said.

“And you will always stand alone, holding firm your standards that no man can live up to,” she said.

She intrigue and scares me for all that she is and that I am not. Family and friends have distanced from her. I won't. I don't agree with what she's doing. I don't condone it in anyway, but does that mean we cannot be friends?

The calming effect of the steam-room was immediate. I realized a long time ago, that the steam-room is a place where women come to cry. There is something about the white fog that makes one feel safely lost, and where if only for a moment, we let go. I have shed a few tears in this unlikely haven.

The sound of her sniffling did not come with surprise. We had not yet discussed why she called but it was coming. We all have our way of exorcising our demons. Some people use drugs, alcohol, sex, work, food, pills…; I write my life story on a world-wide forum, yet safely hidden behind a computer screen. She talks to a woman who has learned to just listen without judgment.

Part of Jen’s problem in staying I believe, is that she is making an emotional decision to a problem that requires logic and common sense. Emotions, especially those of the heart can blind and imprison us. Stand too close to a mirror and we cannot see clearly what is in front of us. Now that I am aware of this, my first instinct is to recognize and distinguish between the two and act accordingly. It is hard to act against once heart, but there are times when it is necessary.

We are our problem. We are also our solution.

“She stopped by last night,” Jen said after a while.

“Who stopped by last night?” I asked.

“His wife,” she said with a touch of irritation. “She found the text messages that I’ve been sending John. She tracked me down. She’s really nice,” She paused as if the idea of her lover’s wife being nice is a difficult concept to grasp. “John told her that I am a desperate, crazy woman who have a crush on him and won’t stop harassing him,”

“Women know how to fake orgasm. Men know how to fake an entire relationship.” Sharon stone once said in an interview.

I wish that this love she wanted so badly could’ve worked out, that the man she chose to give her heart deserved it. “How can a married man ask for your life when his is promise to someone else?” I once ask her.

“Just because he's married doesn't mean that he's with the right woman. Do you think I'd be wasting my time if I didn't believe in our love and he in us? Why would he give me a ring if he’s not going to leave her?” Jen responded.

I didn't answer. If she didn't know the answer, it's because she did not want to know.

I close my eyes and escapes into the fog, and left her in hers. I open the secret door to my memories where I visit Kenny. He holds me to him and I am lost again in the love that once healed and protected me. I remain there as long as I could before the heat jolts me back to the present and forces me to close the door.

Once outside, I touch Jen’s hand and squeeze hoping that at least she’s feeling a little better. She will get off the crazy train at some point. We all do. But how much of her life will have been wasted? Who will she have become? What will she have learned about herself at the end of this journey?

Sometimes it's not easy to get back from the places we've been. Jennifer is not good at forgiving herself.

Just imagine

I am the best mother to my boys, not when I am unhappy and falling apart, but when I can stand firm and capable of making sensible, rational, and well thought-out decisions for us. That is when I am the best sister, daughter, friend and lover.

The greatest and most valuable gift that we can give to the people in our lives is the best of who we are. That’s why I am an advocate of self-love, self-fulfilling and self-reliance.

I’ve been accused of being self-fish and cold-hearted for having the audacity to think and say that I am important. Well, I am.

I know what it’s like to be on my knees in the dark. I have cried myself to sleep, and awakened to a new day smiling. I survived CX putting a knife to my throat and threatening to kill me. And nine years of his threats, violence and psychological imprisonment. Still, I get up every day and walk out into the world. It is self-love that heals me. I am important.

I received several emails recommending that I present a more unified message when discussing relationship issues. It is insinuated that I put little to no emphasis on parnership and seem to place no value on men. My article on Identity was mentioned several times in relation to this perceived idea.

I love, admire and find men beautiful beyond description. As a mother of two boys, I feel that I have a duty to raise men with whom women can be proud to call husband, father and brother.

I have dated some of the most amazing men. The relationships did not work, that does not mean that they were bad. In some of them, I was the problem. But let us not pretend that bad things doesn't happen and learn from our experiences. It is madness not to.

I wasn’t always a poster child for women’s power…I used to believe that my role as a woman was to support my husband in all that he aspires to be even at the expense of myself. I may make suggestions, and offer input, but the big and important decisions were made by him. I would want what he wants. Go where he said we would go, and live the life that he said we would live. I would learn to cook and he would get the biggest and best piece of the chicken.

Growing up, it was the role every woman I knew played. Why would my life be different? But it is different. We live in progressive times and I am a progressive woman. I will love support and encourage yes, but I am not irrelevant. I am important.

What happens if you place your life into the hands of someone who places little to no value on it? Women are abused, raped, killed and abandoned my men to raise children on their own every day.

At the end of my journey all I had was me and a little boy who needed me.
If I didn’t leave, what would’ve become of us?

I learned that not everyone can or should be trusted with my life.
My needs are not secondary. There is no reason why I cannot be the captain of the ship.
I have my own path in life and will be happy to share it with you should our courses align. Sometimes I should keep the biggest and best part of the chicken for myself.

It is awfully romantic to declare ourselves ONE with a man, but that is an illusion no different than the idea of the tooth fairy. We are, and will always be individuals with separate thoughts and needs and aspirations and sometimes life takes us in different direction. What happens then?

Does a girlfriend give up her dreams to follow a man who is chasing his? I don't know. I would, if it is a decision with which I can live without regret no matter what happens. But am I selfish if I choose not to follow? No.

Living a self-fulfilling life means a happier you to share with your partner. Imagine two self-fulfilling people working on the same team. Just imagine...

We should take care not to compromise so much of who we are that we become a shell existing only in someone else’s shadow. We should not allow ourselves to be used, misused and reduced to make a relationship work. It can't. It is already broken. In situations such as these, it is guaranteed that the self you’ve abandoned will be needed for your rescue.

I think of D sometimes. He is married now and blissfully happy. I know that if he had stayed for me, he would have lived to regret it. I did not ask him to stay. I couldn't. I had no right. The odds of making it was not in our favor.

And so I wonder… in situations like these, is the question also the answer?

Once a man, twice a child

I caught a glimpse of life today, the beginning and the end, in the face of an old woman.

Nellie is 102 years old and marked with lines that zig-zags across her face like a timeless puzzle.

She is almost bald…
The few remaining strands scatter about her head, white as snow.
She has no teeth and speaks in incomprehensible tongue.
She cannot stand or walk and reaches for her nurse with a shaky hand.

Her mind no longer comprehends the world into which she has grown. She looks about
her, cataract eyes flickers sideways and upward like an infant discovering the world in which she is born.

She is graced now and then with fragmented faces of friends and lovers and family trapped in the fading recess of her memory. She trembles with the effort to hold on, but no use, she is lost within time and space as life prepares her for the journey back from whence she came.

“She is alone,” Anna said. “Everyone she knew is long dead,”

Once a man, twice a child, I thought staring at her from the doorway as Anna spoon feeds her apple sauce. She set her eyes upon me and pauses as if to place me in memory, apple sauce drips down her chin. I stare back, caught in a moment that takes me back in time and thrust me forward all at once.

I caught a glimpse of life today…
I saw in all my stages, what was, is, and will be, should I live long enough for time to take back all that it has given me.

Anna wipes her chin and coos as one would to a child. Nellie gives up placing me in her fading memories, smiles at Anna, and goes back to eating apple sauce, snapping her toothless gums.

It is said that one cannot capture time. Is time not captured in the newborn, the aging, and the aged among us?

I caught a glimpse of life today…
And recognize what is being shown; a life over a century old. Experiences, insights, mistakes and lessons learned, locked away and inaccessible in a degenerative mind. We go back the way we came.

I am more thankful for this outlet than I have ever been. What better way to record a life, to capture in motion moments, that if not documented, will disappear with time?

There may come a time when I will be unrecognizable to myself.

The simplest things

I hope that everyone had an enjoyable Christmas, that family and friends was a priority. Mine was quiet and reflective. Not to sound like scrooge, but the older I get, the less into Christmas I have become. I find the season stressful. I am glad that it’s almost over. Had it not been for the boys, Caesar more so than Thorr, I would have disconnected from what I have come to view as commercialized madness a long time ago.

My feeling about the season is partly cultural. I was born and raised on an Island where Santa Claus did not come. There were no toys beneath a Christmas tree come Christmas morning. But the season was festive. There was music and dancing and children playing in the street. Wild flowers decorated the landscape in the most magnificent colors. Visiting friends and family was pleasurable.

For the past few years, I’ve been feeling as if I am playing a game that I don’t want to play, but can’t quite get out. Caesar still believes in Santa Claus. And there is no escaping the commercials and the expectations that is associated with celebrating Christmas. I have friends who are devastated because they cannot afford to buy their children the things that they want which amounts to hundreds of
dollars of stuff. Love is not enough.

As much as I love the pleasure that Caesar gets from ripping through gifts that he believes comes from Santa, a part of me cries out in shame.

There is so much suffering in the world…so many children dying of hunger at this very moment. The excess, of which we are a part, paralyzes me.

I speak to Caesar and Thorr a lot about kindness and the importance of sharing with
others. I want them to understand the value of a dollar, and not take things for granted. I want them to respect life and have compassion for those who are less fortunate. I know that long after they have outgrown the stuff, the values will remain. The simpliest things in life, the stuff that doesn't cost anything, is the most valuable. I want them never to forget that.

I want to take this time to thank my readers not just for sharing my life all these years, but for the privilege of making me a part of yours. I have met some of the most amazing people. I consider many of you friends. I am grateful and thankful for you. As we approach the new year, I lift my glass to you...

Cheers…to us,
The life we’ve lived
The places we’ve been
The lessons we’ve learned
And the people we’ve become.
May we stay true to who we are…
May we live our dreams
May we know our strength in our darkest hours
May we never lose our capacity to love.

Identity

The name given to me at birth was based on a mistake that went back two generations.

My father was given for his last name my grandfather's middle name. And so it came to pass that my sisters and I would also inherit my grandfather’s middle name as our last name.

When I got married, I took my husband’s name...

By the time we divorced, there was very little that I liked or respected about him. Yet I was stuck with his name. For sixteen years, whenever I signed my name, or hear it out loud, I cringe. I was as disconnected from it as the shattered marriage by which it came.

I tried once to explain it to my friend Allie letting on that I was thinking of officially changing my name. She gave me a look with one eye brow lifts high and the
other drops so low she looks insane. I giggled as I almost always do when she does it.

“It’s a damn name,” she said. “What do you mean it doesn’t feel like it belongs to you?”

“It’s not mine,” I said. I doesn’t "fit" me,”

She stares at me, “Kit, it’s a name,”

I change the subject.

I’ve known Allie for more than twenty years, long enough to know that she would not understand. How could she when I could not quite put into words a knowing that a name is not just a name. It is identity. It is a connection to self that when taken away, is catastrophic. We are all born into a name, history and a legacy that is an integral part of who we are. I spent years saying I am to a name I didn't want, one with the essence of a failed and tragic marriage. There was no pride
in it.

Whose idea was it that a woman should give away her name in marriage? To give away her SELF? I will not be doing that again.

In one of the stories my father used to tell me, a woman says to a slave who was renamed by his master, “Slave, what name were you given at birth?” The slave thought long and hard...so long that the woman had to repeat the question. After a while, the slave looked at her with sadness, "I can’t remember,” he said. “I’ve been a slave since I was a boy,”

I have never forgotten the story of the slave who who could not remember his name.

Earlier this year, I changed my name to the one that is my birthright. It was not a simple task. I had to change my drivers license, passport, credit cards, contact social security... But it was worth it. Now when I hear my name, when I say it, when I sign it, there is pride and recognition. When I say “I am” it goes beyond personal, its ancestral.

Whatever the legacy, it is mine.

Lust

His lust hit me like spiked fever. Warmth rushes throughout my body leaving me momentarily without reason. I meet the stranger’s gaze from across the room and hold it. He’s been watching me for the past hour.

The attraction is mutual. My gaze keeps going back to him as if compel against my will. My heart beats a little faster and pressure grows strong and pulsate between my legs…it’s been a while since I drank desire from a lovers kiss or lay naked and breathless in the crook of a man’s arms.

I am not without suitors. I am confident in my sexuality. But even though the moment holds the promise of an intoxicating love affair, it will not come to fruition. There will not be a first kiss. If good, one is never enough. Nor will there be a first touch; some touches ignite flames that spreads like cancer and cannot be put out.

We are often told to follow our hearts and take a chance on love whenever, wherever or however it presents itself. True. But one must also be aware that oftentimes, it is not love that comes knocking, but lust.

He wants my body. He knows nothing of my mind and character nor I him. He makes me wet and throb that’s all I know. Lust is like a blindfold that when taken off you may not like where you find yourself or who you have become.

Lust can and does grow into love. It happens when you can see someone from the inside out and still desire them despite all that you've come to know.

I have loved recklessly not realizing that in matters of the heart, there are times when the potential for damage is too great to risk. And one should not act outside the lines of reason. My pulse will slow. The throbbing will stop.
But some scars last a lifetime.

Beyond the thrill of a kiss and touch, the emptiness inside me runs deep. Trust takes time. And what may seem like blissful surrender may be the gift of a seductress. It is not my heart that I fear…mine is locked safely away behind a block of ice slowly thawing. I am still healing from my losses. I am flying on one wing, the other is broken and flapping at my side. Growing in strength, but flapping nonetheless.

How can I give the best of me when I am not at my best? There exist emotional pain that will cause more harm than good if not healed. No one can heal me. I must heal myself. When all the loss and pain is absorbed into the making of me with love, acceptance and understanding, I will be ready again.

Giving in to lust would be a mistake for HIS sake. My kisses will intoxicate. My smile will melt his heart. My body will make him an addict. I can stop his heartbeats with my fingertips. But the moments of pleasure will be forgotten, replace with pain when his heart lie in pieces at my feet.

"When a man or woman leaves you, they are doing you a favor whether they mean to or not," my mother used to say. I believe it.

I feel him behind me, and turns with a smile…

All lovers were once strangers. All love stories begins with physical attraction. The ones I will always love. The ones I never loved. The ones I may have loved but now wish I'd never met, all started with a smile, introduction, exchange of numbers and the first step toward an unknown future.

We are presented with choices all the time…the outcome of those choices may depend on where we are in life when we make them. Are they made with conscious awareness? Openness? Are we free and willing to go wherever they take us?
If not, the risk may be too great.

I stare at him thinking…

Will you understand come morning while your body still hungers for me, to find me gone?
Will you understand when you want to hear the words “I love you” and I am silent?
Will you understand when you ask for forever and I tell you that there is no such thing?
Will you understand that I am as elusive as time?

I am not afraid of love. I welcome it. I don’t fear pain. Love will hurt me. But for now, I leave out there, what might have been. Good or bad, I am not ready for this lustful land.

I thank him for compliment that he bestows upon me and reject him with an apologetic smile.

I have grown tender of a man's heart.

Out of chaos comes order

I have had moments of absolute terror and loss. It's been a life marked by scratches and scrapes and bumps and bruises inflicted by time lived. The mistakes are plenty. And the lessons learned are timeless. Through it all, I can still say that mine is a beautiful, self-filling, uncompromised life.

I have loved to the depth of me, my family, friends and the men with whom I have shared my life.

I have been asked how it is that I can still be hopeful with all that I have been through. I know this: There is beauty and magic in this world. I have touched, tasted and lain naked in blissful surrender. Do we not sometimes cry from laughter? Does a rainstorm not pass and make way for sunlight? Has there ever been a time when dusk did not turn to dawn? The ying and yang of life are indisputable.

And then, there are fundamental guidelines by which I live that keeps me balance and grounded.

I refuse to live in the shadows of someone else’s world.
I do not buy into fairytales.
I do not allow myself to be abused and misused by anyone or thing.
I have not and will not bend to the destructive dictums of society.
I would rather be an outcast than be accepted on a lie.

I remind myself no matter what is going on to stop and smell the roses. I value the simple things in life.

Standing up for what I believe in has more often than not left me standing outside the fence. I don't mind standing outside the fence.

One of six daughters, it was necessary to assert and define myself at a young age. I was never part of the herd even then. I observed the world with interest and curiosity and quiet amusement, but never wanted to be part of the circus. I took instead the roads less travelled, the ones with undiscovered bends, some steep, some dark, some winding, but marked with discoveries along the way. I got in trouble a lot, but it was worth it. I learned that fear is like a double edge sword, it warns of danger, but can also hinder one from being the best that one can be.

I was often misunderstood …

That little girl still lives at the core of me, protected by all that I have become. I am still standing outside of the fence observing... I can clearly see those who have sold their souls and are being led to slaughter. She is a constant reminder that I am built in stages and phases, chiseled in invisible layers and fused together with time. There is sadness in me now that was not there before.

I view this time even with my broken heart and nine years of swimming in shark infested water as approaching shore. I am chewed up, but alive. There is a sense of freedom and liberation to my life into which I have to grow. CX did not break my will. He brought out the warrior in me. He forced me to fight or die. I picked up the sword and discovered that I was masterful in wielding it.

To the reader who emailed me this question: Do you feel damaged by dating a man like CX?

Yes and no. I am forever changed but not all bad. I have gained in strength, courage, and awareness. I have learned to see the invisible. Choose my battles. Know when to run and when to fight. I learned that life is not fair. I learned that I am stronger and more powerful than I knew.

This experience with CX was mine to have. There is a little boy with my blood coursing through his veins and he is brilliant and amazing and he was meant to be. One cannot fight and win against what IS. But we can learn from it.

Every experience is an opportunity to learn about oneself. I hope that I have been a good student.

I don’t know what is around the next bend, but it will not be a life of defeat. I will not surrender nor will I be defined by the moments that bring me to my knees. My legacy will be or rising from the ashes.

There is much living and laughing to do. I have and will continue to lay naked and pulsating in a lover's arms even with CX lurking in the shadows. I will take a chance at trust. Not every man will want to do me harm. And I will continue to give and accept love when it is offered to me.

“Out of chaos comes order”
—Neitche—

I am moving towards order. I demand it.

The road to nowhere

I was sitting on a bench staring at the ocean when I was joined by a young man. A rain cloud passed overhead and showered us for a minute or two, the sun was still shining. All around people scurried for shelter. The man and I did not move or said a word. We sat there as if existing in our own time and space separate from everyone else.

I was thinking of all that I’ve lost in the last two years. I felt as if life has taken from me all that I love.

Thorr is still trying to be a man before his time. I held on as long as I could, trying desperately to change his course in life. I failed. He thrashed me about like a bull-fighter with a death wish. In the end, I was forced to let go or get trampled under the force of a teenager who was chasing something that I could not see. I am left with nothing but hope that the path he's chosen will not take him to places from which he will not be able to find his way back home.

As for Caesar, CX and I are embroiled in another custody battle. It is the second in Caesar’s nine years of life. Both in response to me filing for child support. Had I known what I now know about CX, would I have taken him to court? I don't know but I am glad I did. I have always known that something was wrong with him. This time I went in search for answers. What I found has led to the most difficult decision of my life…one that devastated me beyond anything that I have ever experienced, and again, I found myself being forced to let go or die holding on. (The full story will come at a later time)

I will choose truth over ignorance every time. Ignorance is not bliss. It's dangerous.

The rain stopped, and still the man and I stared at the ocean. After a while, he looked at me and smiled. His face speckled with raindrops.

“Evidently you and I are supposed to meet,” he said.

“I suppose so,” I said smiling.

“Let me guess, you are sitting here pondering the meaning of life,”

“Something like that,” I said.

And so he told me his story…at twenty-eight years old, he was diagnosed with stage four colon cancer. He had just turned twenty-nine, but would not make it to thirty. The diagnosis came shortly after he got married, and on the day he found out that he would be a father.

“You are sitting here with a dying man,” he said. “Two months tops. I will be here no more,”

I stared at him not with pity. Why do we pity the dying? Is death not part of life? And not with fear, but a deep connection to another human being. We are all part of the great mystery. And it was all there in his eyes, the questions he no longer asked. Hope and prayers silenced first by helplessness and then acceptance. He has let go and given in. He's been forced to accept death, and so he understands life.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Jerry,”

“I'm Kitten,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you. Did you live a good life, Jerry?”

He chuckled. "I laughed a lot. I loved a woman I was meant to love, and gave life to a child that needed to be born. I did what I was put here to do. Do you believe in destiny, Kitten?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Don’t worry about things you cannot control. Take that from a dying a man,”

“What has been your greatest life’s lesson?” I asked.

“We are born alone and we die alone,” he said simply. “That is not a sad statement. It is a factual one. Do what makes you happy. Don’t worry about what others may think of you. Be who you are,”

His wife and child showed up few minutes later. He introduced me to them and joked about us sharing a rainstorm together while the sun was still shining. He picked up his son and they headed for the beach where the waves rolled in and crashed to shore.

"Death is a stripping away of all that is not you. The secret of life is to die before you die." --Eckhart Tolle wrote.

I watched them for a long time. The dying man living his last few weeks. The wife who must go on without the man she planned to grow old. The child who have yet to experience loss, and will be too young to remember the man who gave him life.

Perspective.

What comes next, no one knows. We may all be on a road to nowhere.