Cory Monteith

Cory Monteith

"An accidental drug overdose?" My daughter asked me. 

"Yes, I believe it was."

 He was planning on a life with his longtime girlfriend. He was still on the payroll of Glee. I don't think he intended to die. Maybe take away some pain for a short time, but not his life.

Cory had a tough life. More challenging than most. His parent divorced when he was seven. From there, life pretty much unravelled for him. He attended 16 schools, some of which were alternative schools. He dropped out at age 16, which is pretty typical for someone who has changed schools so frequently. At one point, he lived in his car. It's not surprising that he began using drugs at age 13. He started with marijuana and alcohol, as so many young people do.  He has openly shared about his struggle to live life 'clean.' 

 His story is typical on many levels. His desire to live pain-free is a goal for most humans. Learning to live with pain, and not injure yourself or another is a quest for mankind. No one has mastered it.

Despite his pain and addictions, Cory accomplished a lot in this life. The  producers of Glee stated that Cory had a tremendous work ethic, and was reliable and stable. This is evidence that he was clean for a good portion of his career. Relapses are very common with addicts, and Cory wasn't exempt from this.

The facts remain. Cory was a kind, hard-working young man, that was successful on many levels. He was tremendously generous with his time and money. Just a few weeks before he passed away, he sent a video to encourage a high school student, who struggled with the pain of life. The link is posted below.

http://www.examiner.com/video/cory-monteith-video-message-to-fan

He was the quiet, unassuming, tender man. I hope his life-ending will create a cascade of discussions about drug abuse, addictions and recovery. Maybe there are people, young and old, who will find sobriety through his sacrifice.

Thank you Cory, for following your dream.

You have given us a gift. Yourself.

Whoosh

Water lapping on the shore

Wind blowing my hair

A small plane buzzes through the billowing clouds

A jet ski bumps behind me

I lay on the hard, warm, wooden dock

My eyes are closed, and I face the sky

But I can see the sun through my eyelids

The salty air blows over me, just as I feel my skin begin to sear

What shall I do next, 

Dive off the dock?

Drop some cookies into the water to see what will eat them?

Take a walk to the Johnson's dock

Or just lay here some more and enjoy the sun on my skin.

I can hear a distant voice

"Mom, what'll we have for dinner?"

"Well, we've got that lettuce and those tomatoes. Let's make a salad."

"I'll grill the steaks."

"And bake some potatoes too."

"I'll run to the PX for some more bread and butter."

The ground is cleared.

But the memories swirl around me.

Peace is still here.

In my mind.

Blowing Bubbles

I purse my lips as if to kiss an unseen suitor.
I gently hold a wand of magic in my fingers,
Angle it towards the sky,
Then release a puff of air.

Little circles of transparent eternity
covered in colors
lavender, yellow, orange, pink, green 
swirl over the shiny globes.
They float around me, close, so I can
see through them.

They reflect my present life,
And allow me to see through them, 
to the future.
The colors: soft, gentle, 
inspire me.
They show me that my present circumstances, 
the joy 
and the difficulties
mix together
to create my beautiful life.

I see myself holding the wand, smiling,
gazing at the orb

A gentle wind carries the bubbles over the roof.

My spirit 

lives in the sphere 

of transparent love

 and 

floats 

away.

Now I can send another puff of air
into eternity.
And I will position myself
So that my head
is pointing up
Towards the soft wind, and gentle love
that creates the multicolored world

Bubbles.
They show me everything.

Freedom

Looking at the birds, 

fluttering around on a branch

overhead.

They are hopping on the ground,

beaks, pecking the pine needles

Expecting to find something

As I peck at the seemingly dry ground

I expect to find a drop of water

or a hidden cavern

leading to a new green pasture

The moment my beak hits the ground

The blue sky turns to billowing gray masses

covering any trace of warm, glowing sun

yet a drop of water hits the very spot

of dry, dusty earth

The drop, shaped like a tear

Reflects my face, 

My features become a misshapen oval head

and I sip the drop into my parched mouth

Another drop falls at my feet, and then I feel

a cool drop on my head, another on my back and 

moments later they begin rolling off my oily feathers

Soon I am standing in a small pool

Memory of dryness creeps into my thoughts

And the sun instantly bakes me into a crispy mess

like burnt bacon

I look up and see the birds on the branch

and remember that I must simply put

my beak to the dry ground.

I lower my head

In expectation of the rain

that will soon fall 

and quench my every need.

Chest pounding.
An ache that reminds me of getting run over by a car.
The tire tracks riding straight over my heart.

Remember the kisses on each eyelid, each cheek, then the chin, the forehead
sometimes the top of my head.

I love you all the way to the moon and back.
Now I know what that really means.
I'm on the moon, looking back.
And I peer in the window of our home
our  hearts
And I want to thank you for those hugs, and kisses
And the bedtime prayers

Thank you for bouncing the ball in the house
for leaving your shoes in the middle of the floor
for dropping your book bag in the kitchen

Thank you for taking out the trash
For doing your homework
Thank you for showing me your feelings
For telling me that you were sad, but you didn't know why

Thank you for touching my necklace
And asking me why people cry.

Thank you for riding circles around me on your bicycle
Thank you for letting me try to pitch 100 baseballs to you
in the pouring down rain on a fall day, in the dark
Because you wrote each of your spelling words, ten times.
And each word you put on the paper earned you a pitch from me
And when we got to the 67th pitch, you said,
"Let's go inside mamma. It's raining, and it's dark."

Right now, its raining  in my soul

And I pray the rain will help germinate
a small seed of hope
That will grow
And take the place of my loss

Swimming all day. Coming in exhausted. Eat dinner. Sleep. Repeat. Swim. With no particular destination. Just swim. Dive off the dock, into the murkey salty green water. Look at the little holes on the bottom. What's in the holes? I never found out. I swam. On my back, on my side, underwater, through the pilings of the docks. We got brave and took out the little sailboat. It was dangerous beyond description. No one had a clue how to sail. "Just pull up the sail, let the wind take you out, then turn around and come back in."  I didn't wear a life vest. Neither did anyone else. The boat turned over in the middle of the bayou. We laughed, jumped on the bottom of the boat and celebrated the upside down craft. Just enjoyed the day. The sunshine. We waved at shrimp boats, ski boats, deep sea fishing boats. We righted the boat and headed back to shore. I don't remember any of the conversation, just the feel of the wind, the sun and the houses on the shoreline. They looked so small. We couldn't see one human figure. I was eleven years old, and free. Fearless. Adventuresome. Life would never end. So I lived it fully. Came in sunburned. Tired. Hungry. Smiling. Laughing. Planning to sail out again tomorrow. And we did.

Giving birth. That won't be happening anymore. The reality that 'child bearing years are over' usually doesn't bother me. But once a month or so, I get a little sad about it. Today, I had a notion that I can find a new way to nurture young life. I can plant things, create little flower gardens in different places. Last night as I drifted to sleep I recalled my grandfather ambling up and down the rows of his vegetable garden. That is childbirth. Yes it is. He clipped his roses, as parent scolds his child, picks him up and sets him in the corner. When I marry again, one day, we will plant things, and watch them reach up towards the sun, and enjoy the tender little green arms. And smile when a flower opens. And cry when a bush explodes in color, like a child taking his first steps, or a first word spoken. We will water the plants, as a parent holds her breast to a baby. It won't be the same, but God knew what He was doing when he allowed a woman's body to end the life giving process. He knew that her energy and focus would change. That her muscles would ache after bringing in a few small grocery sacks...and her eyes wouldn't focus on close up objects...so He helped her out. I can enjoy mothering in a different way. Now, mothering myself first. And saying "no" to demands that aren't essential. My body says, "No," and while pangs of maternal drive sometimes push hard inside of me, I see the wisdom in some things coming to and end.