This Isn't Over

 I write to heal. That is how I began this blog of mine. I had to find a way to put my grief into words, before it consumed me. So periodically, due to the nature of loss, I return to the page.

Most of my stories, are my day to day observations about my life, and the people who surround me. I can not end the month of May, without telling you of something I did in France. My final, I think, France story is about my love of churches and Ward, my son.

When they were about to close the coffin on my precious child, the gloomy undertaker people, give you a couple of minutes. We all held hands, and my mother spoke, the rest of us were quiet. We passed his body, and did whatever your heart wanted to do. Mine wanted to die, and in a way it did. I leaned into the coffin, to kiss him, and hit his nose, almost knocking me out. I smiled, as all my tears, hit his face. I whispered that I loved him forever, and this was not over.

Each and every day, I think of him, and remind him of how much he means to us.

I say his name, several times a day. I will never stop, even in France.

I asked Bill before we left to make me a dozen copies of a good picture of Ward, for me to leave in every church, I stepped into. Bill said, " What are you going to do with the pictures?" I answered, " Write his name on the back, his birth and death date, asking whomever looks at this picture to say his name out loud."
I wanted someone, besides me, to look at his beautiful face. Hold his picture in their hands, and maybe say a prayer for us.

Bill always knows, that if I have a mission, its done. ( I also took some photos of my sister, so people could say her name, Trudy Blackman)

We went in every church in Paris, lighting candles at each place. Picking out the perfect little altar to leave my photos. Many times, I would see people look at the pictures, and look around to see the person who left them. Thinking that they could spot someone with a broken heart. I think many people have that look.

I would just smile, and continue. I think that people would not recognize me as sad. I love life, and happiness flows through me. Yes, I have suffered a great loss, but my Ward knows his mom is OK. That was the first thing I told him, when we found him on his bathroom floor. Me screaming like a trapped animal, I touched and told him, I would OK. I did not at any time want his spirit to worry, I wanted him to soar. For hours I screamed, we are OK, it's going to be OK Ward. I no longer scream.

So in France, I left his picture in the Louvre, on park benches, in churches. I have had friends take his picture to Costa Rica, Israel. My friend Maria, puts his photo up at school for the Day of the Dead celebration. Each summer the Compassionate Friends do a walk, and carry his photo. We donate money to his college, Savannah College of Art and Design, money to the library, money to Animal Shelters.  His name and face, are all over the place!!! This is not over, loving someone continues, and I want people to remember he was here on earth. Even for just 25 years, its important. 

So I leave you with some photos of the church buildings that were beyond my expectations, and a few of my Ward. You can even say his name for me, Thomas Ward Baron.
This isn't over

I Will Take Versailles, With a Little A.C.

  I could just post some pictures, and that would tell the story of my visit to Versailles. Its just not my style, I need to find a few adjectives to explain my journey.
  I have to begin with the line to get into the compound. It was four or five long, winding rows of miserable people trying to get a glimpse of what? The gold, the staircases, the beds and murals, the history oozing off the walls?  Who were these people, housed in this glorious prison, that they called home.
 Finally we were inside, with no flowing air. It was a not a hot day, yet I could not breathe. Many people sucked up most of the air, but honestly there were no windows. Two long doors in each room that opened to the beautiful gardens, closed. I looked at Bill, with a brow that would scare you, why the hell do they have the doors/windows whatever they call them closed??? Did people live like this, there are no fans even, and they had to wear all of those clothes. This is what happens in my mind, when I visit historical sites, I freak. Where are the bathrooms, you mean to tell me, that they had to walk up and down these HUGE staircases to go to the bathroom????Just thinking out loud.....Bill said they had people.....???
We wander from room to room, the artwork is grand, the fabric on the walls breathtaking, and then there is a bed in the center of the room, the size of a twin bed and nothing else. A few chairs for people ( Yes they had people) to watch you sleep, eat and god only knows what else. Nothing is comfortable, it is marble and hard, and ornate. Yet, over the top, fantastic. The chandeliers are worth the wait in line, the hall of mirrors, I understood. Anything that would reflect sunlight, had to help these people. I do appreciate having your church built into your home, very easy to get to Sunday School!
  After, forever, someone started to open the doors, and a nice breeze came rushing in. My fainting spell eased up, and I thought, OK maybe I could spend the night here?
  We ended the tour in the gardens, that are endless. They had a little train, and golf carts to get you around on, how did they do it back in the days?? These questions haunt me. I promise you that Marie Antoinette never made it down those stairs, and walking to the end of those gardens. A carriage, horses? She even had another house way out in the fields, because she was to too tired, to skip all the way back to the castle. Plus her husband was not very good in bed. ( I did my research!)
 Very fascinating period of time, and worth exploring , even if its only a book.The French Revolution is wonderful history to read.
  I left there, downloading on my kindle, several books, to help me understand what I had just seen.
  I often think we are starving for knowledge, and I had just been to the banquet!!
  Versailles, so evident the art of pleasing and the failure of a doomed monarchy.
  If they had only some air conditioners, and a little less white powder in their hair.
  

Throw the Key Away

   There were many things in France that held my heart.
   When I think, all my stories have been told, I remember a jewel.
Bill and I were walking, a hundred miles, planning our attack on the city of Paris. We sat on the river Seine and just looked all around us, soaking it all up. The cherry blossoms were blowing like a snowstorm, there was no need for words. I reminded him, that it was probably not a good idea to stop walking, for fear I would never make it back to the apartment. So we put one foot in front of the other quickly. When what jumped in front of me was a miracle. We had found the bridge with all the locks on it.
We were not looking for it, and there it was. I had recently told Bill about my desire to find it, and he put it down the list under finding Ernest Hemingway's apartment! He of little faith! Everyone goes to the Eiffel Tower, I wanted to wander.
This was our first day in Paris, and we happen upon this bridge, luck was pulling us in the right direction.
( of course all of the rif-raf selling locks and keys on the street, should have been a clue?? I was looking at the flower-snow!!)
This bridge is for lovers, or so I thought. You put a lock on the bridge, and make a wish and throw your key into the river. There are notes attached to locks, heart and names drawn on locks, its a joy to be surrounded by this piece of art. However there was a sign, a real sign, that told the story about how it started out, to help lock out domestic violence against women, and over the years became a love bridge. I think anything to help bring awareness to violence against women, is also about love. So I was right also.
No we did not put a lock on the bridge, I was too busy reading everyone's little story, and my feet hurt. Bill knows I love him, I told him there is a pretend lock on the bridge with his name on it. He is a chemist, I don't think he really got the lock bridge. He gets me, and that is lock enough for me.

Pictures, I know you may think one is a video, but I hit the wrong button.

On The Wings of a Dove

 One of my girlfriends asked me recently, "What did you not like about France?" I thought that was a fair question. Since so much of France enfolded me with love, I had to think. My first thought, the gray weather, then the wheels of my hamster cage began to turn.

I noticed in France, there were no songbirds. No colored birds, really no birds. I saw a few crows, the size of small mountain lions, and scattered pigeons around. Counting them as birds?? they are very low on the sweet bird list. I missed my music in the morning, of all my birds. Right now, there is a symphony outside of many varieties of birds. I close my eyes, and listen. That was missing in France, and that silence, I heard.

When My Ward died, nature became louder and more beautiful. The very busy lives of birds, all around me, was a balm to my heart.

I found in my favorite grief book, this Saturday morning, a tiny thought written by Terry Tempest Williams.
-I pray to the birds because I believe they will carry the messages of my heart upward. I pray to them
-because I believe in their existence, the way their songs begin and end each day. The invocations
-and benedictions of earth. I pray to the birds because they remind me of what I love rather than what
-I fear. And at the end of my prayers, they teach me how to listen.

I was so starving for birds, that when we stopped outside Strasbourg, I heard a rooster that would not stop crowing. So I went looking, there was a chicken man, beside our hotel, with the most beautiful vegetable garden and chickens galore. Bill said to me, "Where are you going?" since we were headed into the hotel to check in. " I have a chicken man I need to talk to!"
" Bonnie, he speaks not a word of English."
" Well, love is a universal language, and I can point, so leave me alone to converse with some nature!" and
" Where the hell is my camera!"
" You are taking pictures of chickens in France?"
" Yes I am, you are looking at a very happy person!!!"

France was good to me!

Never Beat A Dead Horse

   Not only will I beat a dead horse, but I will breathe life into it, and beat it again. What in the world else would you do with a dead horse? Who makes up these "folk" sayings? What is the true meaning? I would never really beat a horse.....but a dead horse, the idiom that it is, is having a beat down!

If you are new to my blog, read this and know you will read it again. If you are one of the two hundred sweet "hits" ( is that what we call people now?) that read my blog, you may roll your eyes and read on.
( to the nineteen followers, that signed whatever was needed to follow my blog, you are the cream on my coffee!) ( I one day will understand what a blog is??) (and how to improve) BUT..until then keep reading.

We just returned from Paris, and I will have a few entries that talk about my trip. It was a big trip, and deserves my attention. Love was in the air yesterday, while writing, today it is all about "no sun" in France.

There is my dead horse, lack of sunshine, sucks the life out of me. Cool weather, damp weather, gray weather is my nightmare. In Paris, the sun would peek out, between clouds, just to tease. Paris will taunt the faint of heart, with her batting lashes of sunshine. I would sit in the beautiful city parks, strangled with scarves, looking oh so, Chanel! Paris was gray, with glitter, and that saved her.

After a week, we headed to Northern France, Lorraine, Metz, Nancy, toes into Germany. Beautiful farms,wine country, rolling hills, and green fertile land surrounded us. Rain, wind and cold came with that beauty. The sky was black, to gray, for eight long days. No sun shinning on any cobblestone streets, no sun causing me to hang up my raincoat. No Hermes scarf is pretty enough to block out this weather. Plus, now I was on my own, my partner in crime was teaching. I would walk, yes walk, walk, walk everyday all around the city, enjoying my alone time. I would go to my churches, and this time light candles for my dead horse, is that wrong? Praying for sunshine, I think not."  I would buy flowers, and think that would lift my spirits. I went to movies, that were ancient and I know had black mold growing, to shelter myself from the storm.

How do people live in cities, towns that are gloomy. I knew I was just visiting, I had hope. I went into a pharmacy to see if they even had suntan lotion, so I could sniff it, none!! French people in this area, are very pale. If you were pale in my house, growing up, you stayed home from school AND had flat ginger ale.

My vacation was awesome, all of it, just different degrees of awesomeness!!???

I came home to Atlanta Georgia, to honeysuckles blooming their heads off, windows open, sunshine streaming in. Glad to see my real sunshine, my kids and animals.

Home for me, is where the sun shines, and all dead horses are buried!

Things That Made Me Go, Oooh La La

 
Never in my 40 years of living, (historical fiction!) have I seen the likes of Paris, France.
It was not perfect, but it so welcomed my imperfect self.

I loved many things.
Let me remind you, that I do indeed love many things period.
These were new loves to me. Loves that caused you to pause, and breathe.

After a long flight, we arrived at our cute, tiny apartment, left our luggage and began to walk.
WALK should always be in all caps, when discussing France, maybe even WALK bold caps!
Never in my fifty years of living,( getting more realistic??) have I walked so much. Walking and looking, and taking pictures at my young age is not easy. Of course, I had great shoes, several pairs and enough Advil to help Marie Antionette. However, I suffered and not in silence.

The Louvre and everything to see was in walking distance, or a bus, metro ride hop, skip and a jump.

After about two days, I was sure, my feet had turned to nubs, I asked Bill to look and see if they were still there. He kept walking.......

To get to any bathroom, you walked up or down, or sideways many stairs to GO.

I loved the markets, and bakeries on every block.

I am convinced that next to The Father, Son and Holy Ghost, there is a French Pastry Chef.
I loved the parks, and ability to stroll, something we don't do in the states. I loved all the Merry-Go-Rounds, we need one in each neighborhood. Loved off the beaten path stuff, bookstores and pharmacies like my youth. At the big green cross, I pointed to parts of my body, and the pharmacist gave me what I needed. Personal service, I like.
I love my new perfume, that lays on my skin, and brings me to Paris in a quick spray. It is delicious
and the young lady that helped me, all dressed in black, was so French!! except sweet. Just kidding about the sweet, she was a little tight, they have a reputation to uphold, I like it. There nose held high, they are French for heavens sake!!!!!

Churches, beyond belief, that took me to my knees and I am sure directed my prayers to the Almighty, no detours. I think prayers from the likes of Notre Dame travel faster, my story. There is no word to describe the artwork, Bill had me on a tight leash, about "falling out" in the Louvre. Screaming was kept to a whisper, and touching....well I got close enough to smell the paint on some, and maybe a frame or two. A few statues, I may have barely polished with my hand.

There was so much, we were lucky to have seventeen days to wander.
So long to practice my Ooooh La La( even if I were to be sixty??)

Pay Attention To Your Life

Usually I end the month with what I have read; books, articles or street signs. Things that have touched me in some way. You see, it is my story and I am trying to keep track. Speak what I feel, not what I ought to say.

Well April ended, and its May, we leave for Paris in a few hours, and I have not blogged my finds!!!

Books in April were all over the place. I read Wash by Margaret Wrinkle,you  about slavery. I read much about this subject, and with this book, I learned new things. Characters were strong and flawed, and I certainly became attached. Some fantastic quotes are:
1. And you can drown on dry land just as easy as you can drown in this ocean, so pay attention!! ( that one line, speaks volumes, I love each word!)
2. so she sat watching the ground and feeling the sound of their words falling on her skin like rain on a dry place. ( beautiful)
3.Folks take hold of whatever story suits em best and nothing you can do. (Amen, and Amen!)
4. you either tell your stories or else they tell you ( so rich)
Next was Carry on, Warrior : Thoughts on Life Unarmed by Glennon Doyle Melton. All women should read this book. All new mothers, all mothers and grandmothers, wives and witches. It is a must read for all my girls, Emma, Emily and Kelly, Nicole(new girl)
Words to live by;
1. My best guess is that I was born a little broken, with an extra dose of sensitivity.
2.I learned I was worthy and capable of being another human being's constant.
3.I think I may have the wrong idea about what peace is
4.Happiness is low expectations paired with a short-term memory problem. ( True girls)
5.listen for love ( it takes practice!)
6. There is no room for shame or regret in my life. I'm too full. Iam too forgiven, too adored, too fully loved, too full of ideas and dreams and passion to waste my precious life pretending to be crippled!
All women read her book.
Lets Explore Diabetes with Owls by David Sedaris- If you have not read any of his books,shame on you.
He is one of my loves. He makes me howl with laughter, over and over and over again. I will just leave you with one quote: The man spoke with an accent, and though I couldn't exactly place it, I knew he was poor. His voice had snakes in it. And dysentery, and mangoes. David is my friend, its my story!!

I read one more book, but it was too sad for all, so I will leave that one out. Oh your choose, the title is- I'll See You Again by Jackie Hance. A book for mommies who have lost children, not for all. I have to always continue my grief work.

One article I copied was by Elizabeth Gilbert, here are some of her words, that caused me to take a deep breath            I wish you luck and stubbornness
                      and the absence of the need for
                     a permission slip from anybody
 Pay attention to your life and your story, write it down, share it. listen for love. Read a book, we are all students and teachers.

Off to Paris