Why Have You Forsaken Me?

Jesus felt betrayed, forsaken and abandoned.  He felt alone and in a very dark place.  I’ve been there.  I can relate to Jesus.  I was taught that Hell is a place where there is no God.  That’s why it’s Hell.  God is not there.  I’ve been there too!  I’ve been to Hell!

I remember it well and I don’t want to ever go back there if that is possible.  The moment I knew my son was gone from this world, gone from me, forever, I felt the aloneness.  I felt abandoned.  I wondered if there ever had been a God.  Was it just wishful thinking?

God, why? Why Ryan? Are you there?  Why have you abandoned me?

No answer.

No answer.

Quietness.  Silence.  Stillness.

All I can hear is the beating of my heart.  Stop beating.  Why are you still beating?  Why don’t you stop?

God is not here anymore.

The pain is here.  An ache so strong inside that threatens to break my head in two pieces.  The pain is real.  It fills the emptiness inside.

It chokes the air from my lungs and clouds my eyes.  I cannot see anything in front of me.

Why have you forsaken me?

Yes, I’ve been to Hell and I don’t want to go back there.

But Life Goes On http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nkcYbTeRKqA&list=FLoK1WnenNkyimF3a1j7T14Q&index=4&feature=plpp_video

Thunder Bay’s Out of The Darkness 2012

Thunder Bay’s Out of the Darkness Walk was last weekend.  Even though the weather threatened to baptise us with some water it held off until near the end of the half hour walk.  I had a booth again this year with my books and I brought along some printed poetry of mine, not really sure of what to bring.  They seemed to be a hit (as they were free) and I didn’t have enough.  This gives me ideas for next year’s walk.

I also sang a song that is one of the one’s that I have on youtube called “Life Goes On”. My singing is not the best and I’d get kicked off of American Idol in round one but I still find that the message that I am bringing to people is what is important and not how I do it. 

A couple of friends just popped in at the walk which was really nice because it was comforting to see familiar faces.  Susie has been a true and good friend; she was the first person there for me the night that we found Ryan and she stayed with me.  That is something that I will never forget.  Kim was a friend of Ryan’s and she came to see me after he died and gave me a journal which is what I started writing “The Cedar Canoe; What Happened to Ryan” in.

There are amazing people on this planet.

The organizer of Thunder Bay’s Walk is Margaret Hajdinack (not sure of the spelling).  I met her at my book signing at the Chapters Book Store in Thunder Bay.  She came there and showed me a picture of her son, Steven and I hugged her.  We bonded instantly.  She had a dream of having a memorial walk and she went to New York City to participate in their walk and then organized it for Thunder Bay last year.  She has had tremendous support from organizations such as Leadership Thunder Bay and also from politicians. She encouraged me to try to organize one in Red Lake and she attended ours last year.  We had 25 people.  Thunder Bay had 300.

The Out of the Darkness Committee of Thunder Bay has given me $200.00 for this year’s walk which will help to pay for advertising and snacks.  I am very grateful.  We will see how it goes.  The stigma is so hard to fight.  I sent in the ad for the walk to the local radio station and they took out all of the “suicide” and “depression” words and just called it a Memorial Walk.

Baby steps.

Some times I feel all alone and ask myself, “Why do I bother?”

And then I think of Ryan.

The Road I Walk

 

The road I walk is a bumpy one, full of ruts, like a washboard

It would be easier to travel on a smooth road

paved with lines to direct you where to go

It’s the road not of my choosing,

somehow I was knocked off the highway

and onto this dirt road in the wilderness

 ut now that I’m here there is no other choice

 but to continue on and hope and persevere

that somewhere ahead it will smooth out a little

 so that I can enjoy the view along the way

 until I get to the end.

Blogger’s Block

Yes, I have a block, it’s in my head and as thick as the chunks of ice still floating around outside my window on the bay of Red Lake.  It is stubborn and just won’t give up, even though it is cracked and thinned, it just will not melt.  That’s me!  Sometimes, my head is so full and writing helps to clear the shit out so I thought I would try that by just confessing that I have a block.

The weather definitely has had something to do with it.  Spring is in the air…oh wait, it’s winter again…no, here comes spring…wait, never mind.  Yes, mother nature has been playing her girlish tricks, that bi#%*.  Can’t blame everything on her though.  Have to find someone or something else to take some of the blame as well.

Okay, okay, we all know that I do it to myself.  I am my own self-torturer; my own worst enemy.  So, lately I have been busy with trying to get my blood pressure down!!!!! Can you believe I have high blood pressure??  The stress of having high blood pressure has made it even higher (I keep checking it every two minutes to see if it has gone down yet).  Alas, I have decided to change some eating habits, drinking habits (sob,sob) and uggghhhh – exercise!

I have come to realize that I can’t just stop eating and I cannot give up my merlot entirely…no friggin way, but I will try to exercise regularly and see if it helps.  and maybe calm down on all of the activities I get myself into.

I am currently planning our Out of the Darkness Memorial Walk for Red Lake and I am going to Thunder Bay for their walk on the 7th of May.  I will have a booth there with books for sale and I am singing the closing song.  No pressure there…

I’m on the Elder Care Committee for my community and we are planning a tea for the seniors for World Elder Abuse Awareness Day in June.

I am presenting the Ryan Tetlock Memorial Award at graduation at Red Lake District High in June.

After that, I am going to just relax and sit outside for the summer and dream!

And read a lot of books, because I am also a member of the Fools Gold Writers Group and we are planning our first writers festival for September!!!!!!!!!!!!!   Ahhhhhh, my blood presssurrrrreee.

Breathe in, 1,2,3,4,5 and out 2,3,4,5.

You Raise Me Up

Another milestone for me.  My oldest baby, William, will be 20 on Tuesday.  He is leaving his teens and entering adulthood, although, really, he did that the day Ryan died.  I am very proud of him and all of his efforts.  He is finding out that he takes after me in a lot of ways;we’re both goal oriented and can’t sit still too long.  Business keeps your mind from thinking too much so we always have a project on the go.   I’m sharing a song that is for William but I know he doesn’t read my blog so he won’t be embarrassed by it.  He’ll just be embarrassed by all of the baby pictures I put on Facebook on his actual birthday!  Gotta have some fun.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hX50cyaXVOA

 

My Baby Girl

Good-bye baby girl

I’ll miss your sweet face

but I won’t forget it

don’t forget me

I have to go away for awhile

until I get healthy

then I’ll return to you

and be a mother

dear little baby girl

how you must be growing

do you have your first tooth yet?

do you laugh and play peek-a-boo?

my days are long and empty

I lie here in a bed

waiting for the day when

I’ll rise and walk again

precious little baby girl

have you taken your first step?

is there someone there to catch you

if you fall and I’m not there?

the nurses helped me sit up today

and I saw the sun shine finally

soon I will be coming home

and we’ll be a family

sweet little baby girl

are you talking constantly?

do you call another woman mother?

don’t you remember me?

I am growing stronger with each day

the doctor says I’ll be leaving here soon

what will await me

when I return to you

Joe

 

During the forties and fifties, tuberculosis was a deadly killer in the North of Canada Many First Nations people were sent out to the sanatorium to be treated where they would spend years of their lives. Children grew up in these hospitals. Many people died and almost half of Pikangikum perished.

My Uncle Paul did not survive the disease and died at a young age, leaving behind his wife and baby. Sadly, the baby did not live very long afterward either. A few years later, my mother would also contract the disease and spend approximately two years of her life in the Thunder Bay Sanatorium, leaving behind her first baby, my sister.

In order to deal with loss and grief it was quite common at that time amongst the Anishinabe, to “adopt” another child when you lost your own. If your young daughter died, for example, you could adopt another young girl in the community who might remind you of the one that you lost. You would then make arrangements with the family and be able to visit this child regularly and take the child gifts.

This is what my grandmother did when Uncle Paul died. Even though he was a young man, not a child, at the time of his death, she informally adopted another young man who had been Uncle Paul’s friend. His name was Joe Ashen. Joe Ashen then became my mom’s brother.

I knew Joe since childhood. I knew that he was my mom’s adoptive brother, although I never called him Uncle; to me he was “Joe.” Everyone loved Joe because he had such a funny yet whitty personality, his favourite saying being, “If you wanna fight, join the army.”

Joe had an apartment in the Summers Road complex, although he was old enough to live in a senior citizens home. During the last few years of his life he walked with the help of a cane (a stick actually) and was moving slower. His legs bothered him.

Joe usually called me by my sister’s name, just like my mom did, and he called my sister by my name, unless we were seen together then he knew who was who. I would give Joe a ride once in awhile when he needed one. He was educated, probably went to residential school and spoke perfect English. He used to pop into the office where I worked just to see “what’s happening in Canada.”

The last time I saw Joe was during our Norseman Days Festival in 1993, while we waited for the fireworks and we went for a stroll together. I remember laughing because one of his friends passed us and said something to Joe in Ojibway. I could understand enough to know that he said something about me “the white woman.” Guess he was wondering what Joe was doing walking along the street with me. I take after the Irish side of the family.

Joe was someone I always saw on the streets of Red Lake back in the day and even though he’s no longer here, I still can see him in my mind.