Ripple
The ClubHouse: Archive: Ripple
Phrf | Thursday, December 20, 2001 - 09:42 pm   I wanted to make this for my dad who passed away this year. Ripple is a Grateful Dead song that I like....some of the lyrics are Rippling still water where there is no pebble tossed no wind to blow..... Anyway just wanted to remember him here. I don't know why except ya'll seem like really nice people and this is gonna be a hard Christmas for us. And anyone else who wants to can remember someone here. PEACE In memory of my Dad Clarence |
Lancecrossfire | Thursday, December 20, 2001 - 10:22 pm   Very nice tribute Phrf. So sorry about your loss. Yes, in memory of your dad. |
Max | Thursday, December 20, 2001 - 11:31 pm   Sorry for your loss, Phrf. Here's to your Dad. |
Alib | Friday, December 21, 2001 - 06:44 am   My brother died the summer of 1993 and as his birthday is on Christmas day we think of him around this time of year. It gets easier as the years pass but he is never far from our thoughts. Anyway, thanks Phrf for this thread ... one of my brother's favourite bands was the Greatful Dead. |
Pcakes2 | Friday, December 21, 2001 - 07:28 am   My thoughts and prayers are with you both. |
Spygirl | Friday, December 21, 2001 - 01:15 pm   My aunt died December 23 last year so this will be a difficult Christmas, too. We are trying to keep as busy as possible with lots of family functions. Also, my great aunt died this week and her funeral is tomorrow. |
Karuuna | Friday, December 21, 2001 - 02:15 pm   Thanks Phrf - a wonderful idea for a thread. I'm going to post a story I wrote in 1998... it's kind of long, so don't wade thru it if you're not inclined! ***************** My home life was, well, a nightmare. Two alcoholic parents, both verbally and physically abusive, my father also sexually abusive. Consequently Christmas has always been a difficult time of year for me. I've managed to muddle thru somehow, but have always felt the ache for a family Christmas -- not the Norman Rockwell thing, but something, well, with even just a little love sprinkled in here and there. This year (1998) it will be me, and my son... and my son's father, my ex-husband. I hadn't planned it that way--it's officially my year to have my son on Christmas. But I don't know how to say no to a father who wants to see his own son on Christmas morning. So my son's father will come over early Christmas morning, and we'll have a family Christmas that's not really a family Christmas. Added to that is the memory that two years ago on Christmas day, when I got home after another of those family-not-really-family Christmases with my ex, there was a message on my answering machine from my mother. A blunt, short message, that said simply, "Karin, call me. Your brother is dead." Something that will forever change all my Christmases from now on. Something I can't ever understand. It would be so much easier if I could see the world as black and white as many fundamentalist Christians do. That my brother was just a sinner who rejected God and got what he deserved. That somehow my brother chose to reject God, and live a destructive life. But of course, I can't do that. I know how much my brother also suffered at the hands of my parents. And no matter how hard I've tried I can't answer the question of why I managed to pull myself out of it in a way that he couldn't. I know that God miraculously intervened in my life in a way that I couldn't ignore, but I have no explanation of why God didn't do that for Ed. Or no way of knowing if He did, and if somehow it still wasn't enough. Or if that just wasn't God's plan for Ed. Or so many other unanswered "why" questions that run endlessly thru my head. I just don't know. What I do know is that Ed never intended to grow up to be a drunk, a drug addict, a car thief, a drug dealer, and later a man who beat his wife and child. I know that, because I saw him growing up. And I remember another Christmas that was sprinkled with just a little love.... Ed was 12, and I was 11. Our parents had finally stopped bothering with Christmas entirely, after years of just letting it slip away. First they stopped with the outside lights, and then we stopped going to Christmas eve church service. Then they didn't bother buying gifts, and each Christmas morning we would wake up to find the "magic" of -- an envelope of money with our names on it stuffed in our stockings. No gifts, nothing but empty space under the tree. When we complained, the next year they didn't bother with the tree. So there we were on Christmas eve, about 8 pm. Mom was out playing bingo (do you think the Catholics feel any remorse over how they contributed to her gambling habit? and on Christmas eve?!). Dad was drunk, out cold in the family room. I don't remember exactly how we came up with the idea, but we decided the two of us would just go get our own tree. Back then, Christmas trees were sold at the local gas station. That's what we called it, not a service station, even tho back then it really was. We snuck into the family room, and stole a bit of money from our dad's wallet. Then we bundled ourselves up, and walked the four long blocks and one short block to the nearest gas station. But it was, after all, 8:30 pm on Christmas eve. Of course it was closed. Back then, the gas stations weren't all fenced in, like the Christmas tree lots are today. The trees were just there, on the darkened lot, leaning against the temporary fences constructed for just that purpose. My brother and I spent several minutes debating the morality of whether it was okay to just take a tree or not. Yeah, right. We jumped right on the idea that we could get a tree, and keep the money we stole! So we started walking up and down the makeshift aisles, just like we were trained to do by our parents. Ed played Dad, reaching in and standing up a prospect, and spinning it all around so I could view it from every direction. I played Mom, rejecting this one and that because it wasn't quite symmetrical enough, or it was too short, or too tall, or whatever. And we started arguing, just like we were trained to do by our parents. Ed started slamming each rejected tree back into its place, claiming I was too picky, and was being ridiculous. I railed at him for his impatience, and not really caring about what I thought. Yeah, we were just like our parents. Finally, we agreed on a tree. It was pretty tall, so Ed couldn't carry it alone the four long blocks and one short block back to the house. So he grabbed the trunk end, and I grabbed the top and we started back. He groused about how heavy it was, and why couldn't I have been more reasonable and picked out a tree he could easily carry home. I yelled right back at him for being so miserable to me, and cried because the pine needles poked right through my thin cotton gloves and kept pricking my already aching half-numb hands. Somehow we did manage to get that tree home. And Ed even managed to saw a bit off the bottom and a few of the lower branches without cutting any fingers off -- just like he'd seen my dad do. We got it in the stand, and argued again about which way to turn the thing and whether it was straight, and Ed complained again about what an awful tree I'd picked out because it had a crooked trunk and we would never be able to make it look straight. At some point though, we must have gotten it straight enough. Then Ed put the lights on it, and I complained because he wasn't doing it right and he was leaving bare spots here and there, and he told me that I should do it myself if I was so damn smart. And then I put the garland on, because that was always my Mom's job. And Ed complained that I wasn't doing it right, because I'd left bare spots here and there, and because complaining about how the garland was put on was my Dad's job. Finally we got out the boxes of ornaments, and we put those on, each of us having our own side of the tree to decorate -- a system we had worked out years ago to minimize the fighting. Although we did still have an understanding that we could fight as much as we wanted over who was taking the best ornaments and making sure we both had exactly the same amount. Finally it was done. Well, not quite done. There was the angel. Every year we had to argue about who put the angel on top of the tree, whether it was my turn or Ed's turn. And Dad would hold the winner of the argument up to put the angel on, while the other one cried or just stomped away angrily, and Mom would crab about how we weren't getting it on straight, and Dad would yell something about how this kid was getting heavy and we would please just get it on there and be done with it. But this year, that was the one thing that we didn't do in the way our parents had trained us. We both looked down at that angel in the box. And then we looked at each other. Ed reached down and picked up the box and handed it to me. There was no livid argument about who's turn it was. I gently reached in and took the angel out of the box. And then my dear brother, the man who would drink himself to death on Christmas before he reached his fortieth birthday, got down on all fours without a word, so that I could stand on his back and put the angel on the top of that tree. I still had my boots on, and I fidgeted around on his back trying to reach way up there, and it seemed like it took forever to get that angel on there reasonably straight. But he never uttered one single word of complaint. Afterward, we both just sat down on the floor, and silently stared at that tree. Now I look back on that moment and know, that whatever else Ed was, he was my brother, and he loved me. And somehow, thru it all, I believe God loved him then, and is loving him even now. Just as I loved him then, and just as I love him even now. |
Tess | Friday, December 21, 2001 - 02:42 pm   Thank you, Kar. |
Weinermr | Friday, December 21, 2001 - 03:21 pm   As usual Kar, you were thoughtful, articulate, and deeply caring. Thank you for sharing it with us. |
Bookworm | Friday, December 21, 2001 - 03:47 pm   Oh Kar, I have tears in my eyes. Hope this is a good Christmas for you and your family. |
Wink | Friday, December 21, 2001 - 04:07 pm   Karuuna your ability to touch hearts, even tho yours has been so battered, is truly a gift. My wish for you this season is for peace and for the angel within you to always be able to enlighten others with your words as you always do.{{{ }}} |
Moondance | Friday, December 21, 2001 - 04:32 pm   Much love to you Kar and may 2002 be as amazing as you are! My heart is with those who have had loss at this time... truly a tear on your spirit but a special angel we have  |
Urgrace | Friday, December 21, 2001 - 08:27 pm   Kar, may God bless you this Christmas and throughout the new year. You are truly one of _His_ children. |
Babyruth | Friday, December 21, 2001 - 09:09 pm   Oh my goodness. I can't even begin to tell you how much that story moved me, Karuuna- it really touched me deeply and I'm sitting here in tears. Much of it is similar to my relationship with my brother and I can truly relate to the love you shared and still feel. You express yourself very well. Thanks so much for sharing this story... |
Magikearth | Friday, December 21, 2001 - 09:13 pm   Karunna, Thanks so much for sharing your story.You are such a strong woman with a very kind heart! I also think this is a wonderful thread. My thoughts and prayers go out to all who have suffered the loss of a loved one.
This has been a very tragic year,indeed. |
Llkoolaid | Saturday, December 22, 2001 - 04:43 am   Karunna, Are you a writer, your story was so moving, I could relate to it a lot. I would like to print it off and have my kids read it, sometimes they need to appreciate the life they have and I don't like to get into stories with them about when I was growing up. It was a touching story and I thank you for sharing it. Phrf, you are a kind and thoughtful person,starting this thread just shows how much. |
Willi | Saturday, December 22, 2001 - 10:03 am   It has been a hard year. (((Kar))) Thanks for sharing that Karuuna & starting the thread Phrf. I'm wishing you all a very happy & healthy 2002 a bit early. |
Phrf | Saturday, December 22, 2001 - 11:32 am   To Karunna and all- Kar, I'm so glad you posted here. You have a beautiful heart and spirit. And everyone else who have added their thoughts and rememberances here.....thank you too. I really don't know what I would be doing if I were not here with you guys in spirit. I used to go chat at yahoo and it seems that people there dont care about anyone. It is MUCH nicer here. Thanks again my friends. |
Karuuna | Tuesday, December 25, 2001 - 10:46 am   I've started several times over the past few days to post a response to all of your kind words and caring. And each time I felt like whatever I typed was so inadequate compared to how I felt. And frankly, I still feel that way. Each time I try to find the words, I find myself moved to tears by your compassion and the way you've each touched my heart. So here's the best I can do to express my deepfelt appreciation and warmest regards for all of you. I hope your holiday celebrations are as blessed and wonderful as each of you so truly deserve! |
Micknrc | Wednesday, December 26, 2001 - 10:51 am   (((Kar))) That sound you can't hear are big fat teardrops running my cheeks... We are all damaged, all forged, all strengthened by what we had to endure just to grow up. On this, the adoption thread, and others, I've started to post, but feel like it would take too long, or be, like you say, inadequate to the task. Without the long version, I think some of us (Car, RG, Yourself, and so many others, I'm sure,) take that pain and alienation (from our own families of all things!) and use it to create our own version of the loving, warm family we were denied. This doesn't have to be blood, or even the people you live with, but a better version of the world we'd like to live in as long as it breaks those cycles of pain and abandonment. I actually smiled with recognition as I read of your parents' lack of Christmas joy. My mom was very similar. For me, I may not be the perfect mom, but from the time my kids were born, I always swore their christmases would be a damn sight better than mine were. Take heart, Karuuna, and all the rest of us who deal with feeling like we belong on the island of misfit toys. I decided a long time ago that I would take the past for what it was worth-- the thing that made me the person I am and gave me strength to meet any adversity as an adult--cause I sure dealt with enough of it as a kid. And that I could only go forward through forgiving my parents. Not the sappy, blind, kind of forgiving that excuses truly heinous behaviour, but the realistic kind that recognizes parents for the flawed humans they (and ultimately we) are. "They did the best they knew how" works for some of us, but again, some folks and their actions are more easily forgiven then others. Thanks to Karuuna and all the TVCHers at this holiday time. It may sound goofy, but I'm crazy about you guys and you're helping me to remember what's important. As Elvis (Costello--not The King) said: What's so funny 'bout Peace, Love and Understanding? |
Kep421 | Wednesday, December 26, 2001 - 12:20 pm   Reading these posts (especially Karuuna’s) and talking with some of my friends here have resurrected some memories. While I'm normally hesitant to talk about my past, your kind and comforting responses have encouraged me and I really want to pay tribute to my sister, Melody. My earliest memory of Melody was when we were trick – or – treating and it wasn’t even Halloween. She was about 5, I had to be about 4. I looked up to Melody with the total admiration and devotion common to most baby sisters...I'd have followed her anywhere. My mother was a working single parent, much too young to have four children. Melody was the oldest and we had two younger brothers in diapers. But our sitter was totally irresponsible, so we were on our own quite a bit. During our Halloween adventure, we ended up staying five days with a older senile woman who thought we were her grandchildren. There was a big door to door police search (this was back in the fifties), and once we were found, my mother was deemed unfit, and we were taken away…. My memories of my sister are like snapshots, frozen in time, crisp and clear. I have two snapshots of our time at the children’s shelter. One, falling asleep holding my sister's hand through the bars of the crib and the other playing games with my mother and sister when she came to visit. My next clear memory relating to my sister is the night I cried myself to sleep in the arms of a woman who was wearing a star of David. It was the first night after they separated Melody and me… I didn’t see Melody again until I was nearly fifteen. She had been in a mental hospital in Marlboro NJ ever since our separation. I was a troubled teen and acting out quite a bit. A social worker thought that a reunion with my lost sibling would help me to understand some things. It did. Something was terribly wrong with Melody, and while I recognized there was a problem, I had no understanding of the underlying cause. The next time I heard from Melody was the week after I married. Marlboro State Hospital had tracked me down to say that Melody was too old to remain in their facility and unless I made arrangements for her, she would have to be moved to an adult institution. I was excited to welcome her into my home, but was too young, naïve and totally unprepared for someone who was mentally ill. When she refused to take her medicine, Melody ended back up in a mental institution and when the hospital closed two years later, Melody was adrift, moving from place to place, living off SSI. I saw her occasionally and tried desperately to stay in touch. When I was 26, Melody found our Mother. She knew I had been searching and without telling me, Melody wrote a letter to an address she remembered. Turns out, my mother’s aunt still lived there and forwarded the letter to my mom. Both Melody and I were ecstatic to meet our Mom and we immediately went for a visit. Melody cut her visit short and I remained for a few days with our mother alone. That’s when I learned the reason for her problems. My mother had placed both Melody and me with her aunt when she couldn’t care for us, the same woman whose address Melody had remembered. Melody went there first and when I got out of diapers, I joined her. Mom started to say she never knew about the abuse until much later…but suddenly a rush of memories came flooding back. Things I thought I had only dreamed. I couldn no longer hear what my mom was saying because I had begun to remember being tied to the stairwell to the basement with dishtowels. I remembered being so thirsty i drank water from the toilet (because I wasn’t allowed water as punishment for wetting my pants) and being locked alone in a room until I learned to tie my shoe. I remembered the trip to the hospital for the large gash in my sister’s head resulting from the hairbrush being broken over her head. I remembered the nurse asking me what happened, and being too frightened to answer… When my mind returned to the present, Mom was saying that because Melody had stayed with this aunt longer than I, she suffered far more abuse. Suddenly I knew why Melody was the way she was. I don’t know where Melody is today. She cut all ties and has disappeared. The last information my Mom and I had was that she is a homeless person in San Francisco who shuns all contact with people. Today, I can’t pass a homeless person on the street without sending up a prayer for my sister. So this is my tribute to her…kind of a way to say I still miss her and love her very much. She has not been forgotten… |
Lancecrossfire | Wednesday, December 26, 2001 - 01:14 pm   Kep, that is quite a tribute you your sister. It's also quite a tribute to you and your love for your sister. It is clear you both went through a huge amount of trauma in your youth. I hope your sister is safe where ever she is at. Thank you for sharing your story with us. I have no idea how you feel after sharing it, and would hope your heart feels good about doing so. Torture of the mind is as bad as toture of the body. |
Bookworm | Wednesday, December 26, 2001 - 02:58 pm   I love you all here. Reading this thread and the adoption thread has made me appreciate all I had growing up. I continue to read both of these threads with little written response because I just can't find appropriate words. I just want to give out hugs to everyone here. Some of us had lovable childhoods and others had less than perfect childhoods. Some of us are dealing with rough times now, be it with our health, mood, or circumstances. But everyone here is caring and supportive of everyone else here. This is a safe place for people to speak their minds and bare their souls and that says a lot for all of us. What a group of compassionate and caring people we have here. I am so glad to have found this site. Now here is a big hug for anyone who needs one. {{{{{{{{{{{{ }}}}}}}}}}}} |
Resortgirl | Wednesday, December 26, 2001 - 03:51 pm   Kep, Thank you for directing me here. You touched on this when we were talking on Christmas Eve.(That was why I started the adoption thread) I have no words to express my admiration for you. I guess I did have a fairy tale upbringing, compared to yours. Reading it made me thankful for the things I had then and for all the things I have now that I take for granted. You are one strong individual and it took a lot of courage to write about that here, but I now that you will get nothing but love in return! Hugs back to you (((((bookworm)))))) |
Sunshinemiss | Wednesday, December 26, 2001 - 04:37 pm   Bless all of you, for surviving and overcoming the pain in your past. The only positive thing I have ever gotten out of suffering is this- that pain is the great equalizer- it is the one thing that every human has in common... no matter how many differences we have, and no matter how far apart we can be, the one thing that bonds us all is pain. We all have felt pain and heartache, every one of us, in our own way, and at times when we feel all alone and that nobody understands how awful we feel, it can be a small measure of comfort to realize that in that one way, we are never alone in our suffering. As a child of abuse myself, I relate in an all too painful way to several of the above posts. Not a happy place to go back to in my brain, but it helped make me who I am today, and I am ok with that. Now, anyway. Heartfelt love and hope for the future for any of my friends here that are in pain this holiday season. |
Phrf | Wednesday, December 26, 2001 - 04:47 pm   Ya'll - I think we all need a big (((((HUG))))) and I echo Bookworm's sentiments I LOVE YOU ALL Let's all have a Happy New Year I know i will now cause I know all of you are out there and here in my heart. |
Meme9 | Wednesday, December 26, 2001 - 05:13 pm   Wow, you all have touched my heart! I think we all grow up with less than perfect parents. Even the parents the appear perfect, usually aren't. When my mother was dying, she asked me to tell my other brothers and sisters "that she did the best that she knew how to raise us". There was 10 children in our family and mom raised us(divorce). Some were harder too raise than other and she used different methods with most of us. I myself got very few spankings but I had one brother and one sister that just never seem to know when to behave and so they seemed to get punished more often than the rest of us. I believe she was truly trying to prepare us for adulthood. As an adult sometimes you can't have your way, and you have to learn to hold your tongue and count to 10, or what ever it takes to just be still. Having an opinion is a good thing, knowing when to say that opinion is sometime that will affect you life. Example: telling your boss you think he is a real @ss. (this is best to hold your opinion to your self if you want to keep your job!). I always said I wanted to raise my children different than my mother did. (My husband and I put in for adoption but before we could adopt we were finally expecting.) It took me 11 years to have my first child, 20 months later a second, I was so thrilled to have them. And I think "I've tried to raise them the best that I could" I also tell my children that I'm not perfect and when they have children to do better than I have, maybe if each generation trys, maybe just maybe our future heirs will have "great" parents. I am truly blessed, first in having my children, and I'm very proud of them (they are almost perfect), secondly because they do seem to like me most of the time (it took me a long time to type this because they keep coming in to talk to me about different things and I always stop to listen to them whenever they need someone to listen). And last but not least, I've been able to put the past things in the past, because I can't change the past. All I can do is make better decisions that will hopefully make our futures brighter and less stressful. One problem at a time, and move on to the next, I think to myself often "well this problem could have been worst". As with my 17 year old's wreck this week, he's doing ok, and his friend is fine, my daughters car is really not, but it could have been worst. What would Christmas have been like if my son were not here. Blessed yes we are blessed. So for Christmas this year no tree, but I made a point of putting puzzles together one after another for days. This was our tradition for years with the kids, and this was the one thing that we had dropped due to us being to busy.... the kids said this is what they missed most so.... the puzzles were more important than a tree, or a lot of present to them. We had a great time, talked, laughed and enjoyed a less stressful holiday. A little prayer is being sent for everyone here to have a very bright future. I'm so glad you all were able to post all of these personal things, it truly makes one think. |
Moondance | Wednesday, December 26, 2001 - 06:13 pm   Thank you everyone for sharing... you all have touched my heart, soul and spirit  |
Juju2bigdog | Thursday, December 27, 2001 - 09:03 am   Thanks for sharing your stories. Most of them break my heart. |
Jewels | Thursday, December 27, 2001 - 12:47 pm   What heartfelt and amazing stories. It takes alot to share....I am so glad you all have. Thank you.  |
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