Our True Heritage


 

 

 

Our True Heritage

 

 
The cosmos is filled with precious gems.
I want to offer a handful of them to you this morning.
Each moment you are alive is a gem,
shining through and containing earth and sky,
water and clouds.
 
It needs you to breathe gently
for the miracles to be displayed.
Suddenly you hear the birds singing,
the pines chanting,
see the flowers blooming,
the blue sky,
the white clouds,
the smile and the marvelous look
of your beloved.
 
You, the richest person on Earth,
who have been going around begging for a living,
stop being the destitute child.
Come back and claim your heritage.
We should enjoy our happiness
and offer it to everyone.
Cherish this very moment.
Let go of the stream of distress
and embrace life fully in your arms.
 
 

 

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Father’s Day Inspiration


Hi OneTo Six fans. Happy Father’s Day! Brad (my original co-collaborator and founder  of this blog) sent me beautiful pictures of him enjoying the day with his child and I thought, this happiness should be shared to the world. On that note. please find below poems, pictures and most importantly, a virtual hug sent from me to you. . .

 

 

“There are no goodbyes for us.  Wherever you are, you will always be in our hearts.” ~Mahatma Ghandi

“It doesn’t matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was.” ~Anne Sexton

“There is a sacredness in tears.  They are not the mark of weakness, but of power.  They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues.  They are messengers of overwhelming grief…and of unspeakable love.” ~Washington Irving

“I’ve had a hard life, but my hardships are nothing against the hardships that my father went through in order to get me to where I started.” ~Bartrand Hubbard

“I may not get to feel your warm hug or hear your loud laughter.
I may not able to hand this personally to you.
But deep inside my heart, I want to say I love you.
I really do. I also miss you so much.
Happy fathers’ day from thousand miles apart!” ~Unknown 

Happy Father's Day

Happy Father’s Day

 

 

What Is A Dad?

A dad is someone who
wants to catch you before you fall
but instead picks you up,
brushes you off,
and lets you try again.

A dad is someone who
wants to keep you from making mistakes
but instead lets you find your own way,
even though his heart breaks in silence
when you get hurt.

A dad is someone who
holds you when you cry,
scolds you when you break the rules,
shines with pride when you succeed,
and has faith in you even when you fail…

– Unknown

Hope you all enjoyed. Ironically, holidays annoy my father. But I’ll call him anyway. He’ll wonder why and brush me off, and I’ll smile thinking,  oy, what a grudge! But I love him and I’ll think of the quote, “A son is a son till he takes him a wife, a daughter is a daughter all of her life” ~Nora

And of course, last but certainly not least, for My Michael:

When A Friend Bids Goodbye

© Kathrine Yee Baraquia
My dear friend,
close your eyes…
hold my hand,
and hear me whisper…For the times I was lost,
you were there to look for me.
Will you believe me when I say I love you more than you’ll ever know.
Will you trust me when I say …this time you have to let me go.

My dear friend, I must leave.
The world no longer needs me.
It’s my time to be gone, until we meet again someday.
Don’t you cry now, I know I’ll be okay.
Trust that I’ll never forget you.
Don’t be sad now, just close your eyes until it’s through.
Hold my hand, don’t open your eyes yet…
wait when I no longer whisper..

My dear friend, you’ll be fine.
I’ll be up there watching over you.
For the times I’ll be gone, don’t ever forget
the words I whispered to you.

God calls on my name… and I have to let go of your hand now…
Please don’t cry… and smile for me..
because I’m with the one who made us friends.

Remember, I’ll always love you.
so come, wave me goodbye…
It’ll be painful but we have to…
Hug me, hug me tight, feel the words I can no longer say.

My dear friend, I’m going to miss you.
just pray because I’ll always listen.
and one day, when it’s your time,
I’ll be there for you…
Just like the way I used to.
…I love you…

For Every Dad. . .

For Every Dad. . .

I See You-Inner Wise Self


I see you in your stops and starts, your fears and resistances. I see you in your glorious unfoldings and creative inventions. I see you think you’re not enough, and then see you leap to the next spot, laughing. I see you write yourself in and out of memory and dream, smoke and shadow. I see your new writings taking flight. I see you refusing to quit for long, I see you willing to sob on the floor, I see you showing up to the page, over and over , over and over again- even when it’s boring, messy, not your favorite. I see you celebrating, creating, making your writing REAL and sharing your life’s purpose. I see you allowing the splendid imperfections and glaring omissions and inescapable truths and uncertainties. I see you, I know you, I love you unconditionally– completely and forever. Call on me constantly. I’m right here, right now, right always. I adore you.

 

With loving support,

Inner Wise Self  

Words To Remember

You Learn by Jorge Luis Borges


 

You Learn

After a while you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,

And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning
And company doesn’t mean security.

And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises,

And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,

And you learn to build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.

After a while you learn…
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.

So you plant your garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure…

That you really are strong

And you really do have worth…

And you learn and learn…

With every good-bye you learn.

~Jorge Luis Borges

Once you learn how to be happy, you won't tole...

Once you learn how to be happy, you won’t tolerate being around people who make you feel anything less.

 

Hug Your Mom Tight For Me – NYPOST.com


Hug Your Mom Tight For Me by Cindy Adams

I have reprised this column every Mother’s Day since springtime of 2000. That’s when I lost my own mom. It was akin to losing my whole world. Each year this special weekend is my only way of touching her.

I’m a mother lover. I print this annual tribute because I never loved any creature, big or small, man or woman, old or young, human or animal, the way I loved my mother. And not in this life nor in those the Spirits say I may pass through, will I ever love anyone more.

My grandmother, who came over from the old country, Russia, was a janitress in the New World. Cleaned stoops. Took in boarders. Made chicken soup so thick you broke your wrist lifting the spoon. And once washed my mom’s only party dress — pretend satin, trimmed with fake fur — then stuck it on a radiator to dry. The thing turned stiff. Grandpa never made a living. He was a tailor but couldn’t save mom’s only party dress.

They had five children. My mother Jessica, the baby, was born in Liverpool. Mother married a dentist but liked nothing about him including his teeth. She divorced him after I was born. An executive secretary, she was a single parent.

I was always sickly. But, no matter what, she was always there. She’d pawn things because we needed other things. She then married a dear man who loved me and sold insurance. Mostly I remember that she was always, always there for me.

She dug up my birth father when I was 12 so we could meet because he’d never once seen nor supported me. We met. I was distinctly ungood-looking at 12. He continued to not care to see me again. Years later as life changed for me, he then reached out. Mom and I both then told him what he could do with his reach.

Mother was beautiful. I was not. She had my nose fixed. Improved my hair line. Made me diet. Fed me little green Feosol tablets because I was always anemic. Gave me speech, posture and acting lessons. Took me to a modeling agent and announced: “My daughter is going to become somebody.” Underwhelmed, they said, “Maybe, but not here.”

At age 8, my class had a May 1 Maypole Dance in the park. We each bobbed and weaved, over and under, braiding our streamers into the Maypole. It was a chilly morning. Only my mother alone came bearing a sweater. I was mortified. Was I not a grown-up? No other mothers were babying their children. I hissed at her, “Go away.” She blinked at me. She went away. But there were tears in her eyes.

That happened civilizations ago, but I still cannot wipe that image from my mind.

Yearly readers request I reprise this Mother’s Day Valentine. Last week, again, a copy of 2007’s column was sent to me as a reminder. I think this is the part they want:

I can’t believe my mother is gone. Even in my heart the word is capitalized. Every winter she was in Palm Beach with an army of aides. Every summer in the Hamptons. Even when she lay unfocussed and unspeaking in the hospital bed in the country home I provided for her, she was in my life.

Even in those years when she didn’t know who I was, I knew who she was. I knew somewhere inside that shell was the stunning, bright, sassy, verbal, vibrant, witty, dynamic, fun-loving, killer lady who had forever been my everything, the core of my being.

The last time I hugged her an icy stab of fear sliced through me. I sensed an increased fragility. I wanted to crawl into that bed alongside her, but there was no way. No room. Besides, I was terrified I’d frighten her or, worse, the bed would collapse.

And so I pressed up close, my body flat against the protective side bars. All I could do was stroke that small head. And place against the cold steel railings of the hospital bed a stuffed teddy bear so those curled fingers might touch something soft.

I remember that gorgeous head when it was full of information. When it ruled worlds. When it was big and strong and knowledgeable and featured that powerful mane of thick red hair. It seemed tiny now. The hair white. Sparse. Shiny.

I was an only child. I married in my teens. So we were four. Then dad went, and we were three. Next, my husband, who was the same age as my mother. And then we were two. And now I’m one. And my only family are two yappy Yorkshire terriers — but at least they come from England as she did.

It’s tough. Tough to lose your mother. It is now a dozen years since I’ve lost my mother. It’s still tough. I’d give up everything to give her a gentle, easy, slow-moving hug today. Just one. One that wouldn’t alarm her. One that couldn’t be returned. Or even understood.

I’m aware that each Mother’s Day, for whatever reasons, families become aware there are wide gaps between many a mother and child. Not for me to sit in judgment.

It’s just that — if it’s within your ability — call. Buy flowers. Send a gift. Write a note. Tell your mother you love her.

I wish I could.

I can’t anymore.

Read more: If you still can, please tell your mother you love her – NYPOST.com.

Mother’s Day Poems For Grieving Parents



A week before Mother’s Day; I have lamented on what to say to all mothers who have lost their children on this occasion. Alas, I realized that I do not have the words as I have never yet had children of my own. Who am I to bring words of wisdom on a subject regarding feelings that I cannot begin to comprehend? Still, one of the reasons for the articles written on this blog is to bring solace to those who are seeking a brief reprieve from their grief. With this in mind, I decided to post poems by those who have expressed the loss of a child.

;

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Here are the poems I chose in dedication to every mom missing their child. Please read and enjoy, or cry, or yell, or smile. . .or whatever feels right in your heart. I wish I could hug each one of you to know that someone out there cares. As long as I shall exist, this blog will always be here and I hope it brings you some relief to know that you will never be alone in your grief.

A Peak Into Heaven
by Callie Sanders Thornton

;

Just one little peek into heaven,
Is all I’m asking for today.
I just want to know how she’s doing,
And heaven seems so far away.

Is she playing on the clouds with angels?
Is she laughing and running today?
Does she miss me?
I guess only she knows.
Oh why does heaven seem so far away?

If you just let me look for a moment,
To catch a glimpse of her sweet smiling face,
I promise I won’t try to take her,
I know, she’s in a better place.

Just one little peek into heaven,
Is all I’m asking for today.
I just want to know how she’s doing,
And heaven seems so far away…

Just For Today For Bereived Parents
by Vicki Tushingham

;

Just for today I will try to live through the next 24 hours
and not expect to get over my child’s death,
but instead learn to live with it, just one day at a time.
Just for today I will remember my child’s life, not just her death,
and bask in the comfort of all those treasured days
and moments we shared.
Just for today I will forgive all the family and friends
who didn’t help or comfort me the way I needed them to.
They truly did not know how.
Just for today I will smile no matter how much I hurt on the inside,
for maybe if I smile a little,
my heart will soften and I will begin to heal.
Just for today I will reach out to comfort a relative or friend of my child,
for they are hurting too,
and perhaps we can help each other.
Just for today I will free myself from my self-inflicted burden of guilt,
for deep in my heart I know if there was anything in this world
I could of done to save my child from death,
I would of done it.
Just for today I will honor my child’s memory

by doing something with another child
because I know that would make my own child proud.
Just for today I will offer my hand in friendship
to another bereaved parent
for I do know how they feel.
Just for today when my heart feels like breaking,
I will stop and remember that grief is the price we pay for loving
and the only reason I hurt is because
I had the privilege of loving so much
Just for today I will not compare myself with others.
I am fortunate to be who I am
and have had my child for as long as I did.
Just for today I will allow myself to be happy,
for I know that I am not deserting her by living on.
Just for today I will accept that I did not die when my child did,
my life did go on,
and I am the only one who can make that life worthwhile once more.

For All Parents
by Edgar Guest

;

I’ll lend you for a little time,
A child of mine he said.
For you to love there as he lives
And mourn when he is dead.

It may be six or seven years,
Or twenty two or three.
But will you , ’till I call him back,
Take care of him for me?

He’ll bring his charms to gladden you,
And shall his stay be brief.
You’ll have his lovely memories,
As solace for your grief.

I cannot promise he will stay,
Since all from Earth return.
But there are lessons taught down there,
I want this child to learn.

I’ve searched the wide world over,
In my search for teachers true.
And from the throngs that crowd life’s lanes,
I have selected you.
Now will you give him all your love,
Nor think the labor vain.
Nor hate me when I come to call
To take him back again?

I fancied that I heard them say,
Dear Lord, thy will be done.
For all the joy thy child shall bring,
The risk of grief we’ll run.

We’ll shelter him with tenderness,
We’ll love him while we may
And for the happiness we’ve known
Forever grateful stay.

But shall the angels call for him
Much sooner than we’ve planned,
We’ll brave the bitter grief that comes
and try to understand.

For those grieving their mothers on this occasion, I will post something for you this week as well. You are not forgotten. And for those of you who are blessed to have your mother’s presence today, appreciate her while you can. After all, we only get one in our lifetime. There is no love like that of a mother. . .
. . .which reminds me, I need to go buy my mom her Mother’s Day gift!
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Happy Mother’s Day mom. I love you.

A Dose Of Sarcasm For Valentine’s Day


Just when we thought we survived the holidays, here comes another one sneaking around the corner-Valentine’s Day. People have their opinions about Valentine’s day, some endorsing it and others dismissing it to a day dedicated to greeting cards.  Fact is, it is considered an annual traditional holiday and for people in mourning, it’s a reminder of our loss. It evokes feelings of memory and traditions, tugging at our emotional boundaries.

Here’s my advice: if you made it through the past two months of holiday “festivities,” maybe crying in your eggnog while hurled in a fetal position in your bed (oh wait, that was me..) then this too, shall pass.

Now, my opinion and 75 cents will buy you a cup of  coffee (unless you’re at Starbucks.) Make no mistake, I’m not an emotional counselor, a psychiatrist or any type of doctor of any kind. I simply blog about mental health advocacy and list the professional agencies here on the site for you to use as needed. My expertise is that of being a human being and any advice I give is based off of my personal experiences.

I’ve read many articles with suggestions on honoring your loved ones and their memories by baking cakes, writing personal notes, lighting candles, and so on. They bore me, especially because I won’t take any of those suggestions. Not only that, I won’t feel bad about not taking them. You know why? Because I’m learning how to live with loss my way. I have been doing that for years. There is no cure, remedy or corny sentiment that anyone can share with me that will make me any stronger than I am right now. We’re all unique individuals and we all learn recovery in our way, on our own time.

This year, another Valentine’s Day will come and go, like it does every year.  I’ll think of my life, my loved ones and probably get a postcard from my chiropractor or dentist, wishing me a happy holiday while reminding me to come in for my overdue check up.

For all of you One To Six readers, have a wonderful Valentine’s day. Celebrate it, ignore it, or simply sit back and see where the day takes you.  I’ll be here, thinking of my next holiday post…

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