Category Archives: Death

My Girls in Heaven (trigger warning)

If I close my eyes and wish hard enough, dream sweetly enough I can hear your laughter. Soft and sweet giggles on the wind. I can feel your little hands close in mind as we go running through the field of wildflowers into the woods where we play hide and seek. I can see your eyes, bright blue and bright green, your hair in alternate shades of deep and light red, your skin pale as the day is long with those scatter freckles across your cheeks just like your brother and sister. I can hear your soft sweet voices singing on the wind as we tumble to the ground and make daisy crowns for our hair while we play by the water’s edge on our afternoon adventure. I feel the weight of your bodies in my lap as I hold you in my arms not wanting this day to end, this dream to be woken from. Your sweet kisses to my cheeks assure me that you will be there again when I come to visit you, that I don’t belong there to stay, that it’s time for me to go home. And when reality sets back in and I open my eyes to the world with tearstained cheeks, I know that somewhere you are still watching over me.

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I scoop up my babies and hold then tight, whispering to them how much I love them. They ask me why I have tears in my eyes and all I can tell them is that it is because I am so happy to have them with me. It is not a lie, I am happy, I am lucky that I get to hold them in my arms, that I get each and every day with them. The only part I leave out is that part of the reason for the tears is for their siblings who are always watching us and will one day be able to hug us when our souls join with theirs. One day I will tell them about their sisters who will forever be in our hearts. But for today, I will wrap them up in all over my love.

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There is for as long as I have known a stigma around writing about miscarriage, a taboo about the written word of losing a baby before they were born. But my girls were a part of me and I am not ashamed to say that. There is a part of my heart and soul that no matter what anyone says or how much time has passed that won’t stop hurting for the loss of them. They were part of me, I created them, I saw them, I knew they were there in my soul and then they weren’t. And that loss is soul crushing.

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When I found out I was pregnant in 2008 I was beyond the moon, a second baby when I was told I couldn’t have a first. I knew that this pregnancy was going to be different because I couldn’t even stand the smell of sugar, oh it was terrible. I was somewhere between 7-10 weeks along when I lost her that Father’s Day, June 21, 2008. It was confirmed by a test the next day, they took my blood and called me and I remember the phone falling out of my hands and dropping to the ground. I remember feeling crushed. I held my spritely boy that day so tightly as though the heavens would take him from me too. Later than summer I was granted a wish and therein lie the miracle and my Pixie was born 2 months after her sister should have been.

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We thought I was sick in 2015, we thought it was my lap band, we thought it was something with my stomach, I went under surgery twice not knowing. And then the results came in, I was pregnant. I was thrilled, beyond thrilled, I had a wonderful relationship and everything was going well. I was terrified and anxious and excited, I was going to do everything right this time. But everything wasn’t going as planned. The first sonogram showed her smaller than she should have been but that was ok. Then the next one, I saw her heart beating! I saw it, it was slow but it was there and I thought, look at that, this is really happening. I tossed away all the concerned looks that everyone else had because of how small she was still measuring. Then it happened the next week. She was still there, a smudge and actual smudge, I saw her…but her heart had stopped beating and she was gone, just gone. And so was I., This time, it wasn’t just let nature happen, it was medical intervention happens. We didn’t know exactly how far along I was. But June 8th, 2015 was her day, her birthday I suppose but as she had passed while still inside my body I don’t know what t call it. She was about the age as her sister had been, but the whole experience was different. This one included contractions and pain and the whole experience I had with my live births. I was devastated. My life would be forever changed.

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Why am I writing this now? Because it is June, because June for me is a hard month, one of plenty of happiness but one of a lot of pain. One that will bring about the summer and one that will forever remind me of my angel babies. May-June one day be a month of rebirth for me and not hold my heart so heavy, this is what I can wish for. So today I will go and make a flower crown with my faerie kids, we shall run and we shall play and we shall laugh. And our laughter will bring us smiles and I know somewhere our angels are smiling down on us.

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Mommy loves you

Always

Shaye

xoxo

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I’m here for you. For as long as you need me.

I was going to go into detail, tell you of my story but right now I can’t. I can’t because you don’t need to hear my story right now, you need to hear that I will understand yours. If I can’t understand you, I will listen and empathize. I will give you my hand, lend you my shoulder and certainly be a sounding board. I chose these pictures for you because in them I saw my past, I saw my friends, I saw my struggles and I saw the messages I needed so long ago. The reason I became who I am today, I wanted to be the person that I never found so long ago. So these are for you and me.

I am here for you. For as long as you need me.

Sparkles,

Shaye

Xoxo

 

Don’t put off today, what you may not get to do tomorrow

My friend Tony wrote these incredibly touching words on why you shouldn’t put off I love you’s. Why saying goodbye comes way to fast and why you should always let those near and dear to you know that they have a place in your heart.

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I wanted to share something very important that we should all take to heart.  In this life all you have is your loved ones and your memories, and I finally realized after all these years you have to take advantage of them whenever you can.

There may not be a next fishing trip, the next cruise, the next family get together. I have buried more friends young than I have been to weddings, two this year that started seemingly innocent as a cold.  So don’t take for granted that there will be a next time, don’t let it get to “it’s been far too long” because you never know when too long will become too late.

Don’t be afraid to take that trip, spend the money, do something out of your comfort zone because that’s where our best memories come from.  Nobody talks about how awesome it was to sit home alone instead of making memories and I have made that mistake all too many times myself.  Don’t be afraid to tell your friends you love them, that they mean something to you.

Spend the money, spend your time, make things happen with the people you care about.  Don’t let the excuses, the laziness, the long drive, the lack of funds, the easy way out rob you of your life experiences.  Money isnt the end goal of our lives, that’s not why we work, its a tool to be used to manifest the life you want to live.  Go out and do it because there’s no guarantee there will be a next time.

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Thank you Tony, you have touch mine and many others hearts with your words

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You can’t kill all the players…

…just because they are dumb. Granted, he didn’t want to kill all the players, he usually just wanted to let them die for being dumb. Steve was the man, the myth and the legend. His stories were classic and if you even think about them you can hear him laughing in your head. He usually made you feel like the king of the world and the biggest mook of your entire life. This gif is something he said to me once at a party and I laugh because I am sure he said it to more than one person before he broke into a grin and clapped them on the back with his big hands.
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I knew him from 2002 and we weren’t the best of friends, hell he wasn’t even someone I kept in touch with other than at game, but he was part of my family. When I saw him there was a hug, a laugh, a lewd comment and an actual curiosity on how I was doing. He always asked about my life, my sex life, my kids and we usually fell back into conversations about the old days. You just had to give him one topic and he could talk for hours. He was one of the kindest dirtiest old men I knew. I only call him a Dirty Old Man because well he was older than me.

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Steve was too young to leave this earth, but I guess that he was shooting for the head of world plot again. Now he and Keith are sitting up there and Keith is talking and Steve is shaking his fist at us and Keith. And if there is humor up there where ever he is, then he is stuck with cardboard wings cursing the fact that he took the name Glacier.

You are love Steve Franks. You are and will always be in our hearts and minds.

Sparkle Thoughts

Shaye

xoxo

“Wood elves, they taste like chicken nuggets.” –Steven Franks

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Bohemian Lullabye

Yes this may or may NOT be the prologue to Shaye’s tale

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Prologue

“What are you doing?” my brow furrowed as he first turned his gaze and then his entire body away from me.

I was met with silence, that cold ring of silence that makes you uncomfortable and anxious all at the same time. I stared at the ceiling and tapped my fingers together wondering if I was going to get an answer from him.

We had been in a lull between tours and we had just another few weeks before we went on the road again. There had been talks of separate buses, because who wants to deal with a weepy Oliver when he can’t see the baby. I didn’t even know if the entire family was coming along this time. The last month long tour we did on the west coast we were ramped and it just blew.

There was a crack in my ceiling; I idly made it into various shapes as he still was silent. I knew he wasn’t dead, how morbid of a thought, because he was still breathing. And he wasn’t snoring so he wasn’t asleep. He was just waiting. Just fucking waiting. For what? I didn’t know. I had nothing left to apologize for. I tried to make amends for my past, for being distant, for not wanting to jump his bones every five seconds, hell I apologized for not making the bed the other day. But it wasn’t enough.

I took a deep breath “Baby, why did you turn away from me?”

“Because I needed to, because sometimes I don’t even think you realize that you aren’t a person anymore.”

I winced, sighed and let my head drop. “Alright, if that’s how you feel.”

I slipped out of the bed, feet hitting the cold stone of the floor, and quickly yanked on a pair of yoga pants and a sport tank and headed off to the kitchen. I almost expected him to follow me. I knew he wouldn’t, when he gets like this he never does. I half hoped that the guys were coming over to snag him for a rehearsal today. As the coffeemaker began to drip I scooped my hair into a ponytail on the top of my head. He called me pebbles when I did that, not that he had done that lately. I glanced around at the quaint stone cottage and made a face at the boxes I had yet to unpack.

I just didn’t have the strength or energy lately, honestly all I wanted during this break was to rest and spend time with Eric. But my time with him kept leading to these petty fights and I just, I just didn’t know what to do. He’s so logical and I’m so not. I’m spontaneous and he’s organized. I love clutter and he, well he can’t leave dishes in the sink overnight.

Adding some coffee to my sugar and cream I plopped down in my oversized armchair and flipped the lid open to the box closest to me. Pulling a manila envelope out of the top, I frowned because I didn’t remember when or how that got there. I opened it slowly and placing my coffee on the table next to me, reached in tentatively. It was full of pictures.

I pulled them out one by one, studying each and every detail. Some were from even before we hit it big. Way before. Some were from high school, HIGH SCHOOL. When my hair we all kinds of curious colors, and there was smiles on all of our faces. Each of the pictures as they fell into my lap brought back memories I hadn’t had in so long. Some bad and some good but each had lyrics and poems attached to them. I knew what I had to do to get out of this funk. I grabbed my pone and loaded up a bunch of songs and stood up letting the pictures flutter to the floor.

I hastily wrote a note and left it on the table:

Eric,

Went for a run to clear my head. Technology free day, soon as I come home. Yes I have it on me, and my knife and my pepper spray.

Love you,

Shaye

 

Placing my ear buds in, I stretched my legs out and headed out the door of my small stone fortress, and out into the woods. Taking in a deep breath of that green fresh mountain air I began to slowly jog, losing myself in my memories.

© S.R. Gray 2016

This is NOT a Love Story

The first of many books I stated, let me know what you think

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This is NOT a love story! And what I mean by that is that this is some mushy gushy story about love triangles, about some guy or girl shaped my world or any of that nonsense. Though if I really think about it those aspects are in there. However, this is NOT a love story. I will not let you categorize it as such, much like Disney categorized Frozen as a sisters story when it WAS a love story. This, at least I think is more of a suspense thriller, but most people would disagree…Granted most people can’t see inside my brain. Hell I can’t even see inside my brain. Ok off track here a little bit. Anyway, now that we are clear what this isn’t, let me tell you what this is.
This is MY story; yeah get your chuckles out now. I know what most of you think of me, even some hell probably some of those who I’ve chatted up in the grocery store line. I know what you’re thinking. And no, I am not a conspiracy theorist or any of that nonsense, I just know what mask I where when and how people judge me in relation t such. Hell, I’ve burned some of those masks years ago and people still remember them. They are seared so hotly into people’s brains that I will never be who I am today but always who I used to be. So, this is a story without the mask, or at least I hope I can be brilliant honest and make it through. This is the story I should have typed a thousand times in a thousand different ways and I didn’t…
I have a lot of good excuses why I didn’t, but nothing that really gets me out of it. I have 5 fucking stories on my computer, 5! And they each have at least 2 chapters…One of them even had a PROLIGUE! And they are genuine stories that I hope to finish someday, but I can’t put my heart back in the place it was when I was writing them, does that make sense? Ok so by now you know that in person I have many masks, I make a lot of excuses and totally judge books (and movies) by their cover (and tag lines…see first paragraph). Let’s add to the stack shall we? I often go off on tangents that no one can follow (be prepared), I can be very sexual and potty mouthed, and sometimes I just out and out lie…Granted I think it’s more of a retelling of the story in a more fanciful fashion but when push comes to shove, I lie. If you have to ask why at this point I would tell you because I like to. See I told you a suspense thriller would be more my story.
So here I am baring my soul, to the world. Or at least I hope to. In this story that is not about love, though there is love in it. A story full of stories, full of unheard truths and confessions. Maybe I’m repenting for some bad shit I did in a past life, but all I got from all the oogie boogies down in New Orleans where that something really bad happened in a past life but they couldn’t tell me. I think I am writing my story because it is time, or that I am running out of time. No I am not suicidal, I am literally running out of time, I was supposed to write 50,000 words by the month of December and as of right now my word count is 607. I think if I can pound out 50,000 words in two days I would be incredible proud of myself but incredibly worn out. But I made a promise to someone in New Orleans that I would finish a book by the beginning of this year and I broke that promise. I hate breaking promises. So now it’s time to promise myself I will finally finish what I have started. For once in my life have something to look back on and say hey you…look at that, not only do you make beautiful kids, bake a mean apple pies and have a gay harem that puts the world to shame…but you wrote a fucken book. Go team you.
Now that I have gotten a minor introduction out of the way I guess we should start with my childhood right? I don’t have a lot of memories as a kid, but I have flashes of them, if that makes sense. I look through photo albums and I know faces and names and not a lot of details. Every once in a while a very clear memory will pop up in there and I will blurt it out, but those memories are so sporadic, sometimes I wish they would either stay or go away completely.
©S.R.Gray 2016

The Answer You Didn’t Want

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You sat there in the chair shifting. The cushion was not comfortable but it wasn’t the worst you’d ever deal with. You waited as the papers shuffled on the desk and he turned to face you. Quietly the little boy with the big brown eyes was playing with the blocks. The noises made the silence worse. Shuffle shuffle, click click, unidentified sounds from that beautiful boy. Finally he turned, you dug your fingers into your legs to keep from shaking. You already knew the answer but you needed to hear it from someone who could tell you that you weren’t crazy. He had a PhD, he knew crazy.  Autism, Aspergers to be exact. Along with Sensory Processing Disorder and anxiety. You lips pressed together so you don’t cry. You knew what they were going to say, but hearing it was a slap in the face. But 4 years later you’re still ok.

Tap, tap, tap….fancy pen on a fancy leather shoe. Your under a microscope. He won’t tell you what’s wrong. Claims he doesn’t know. But you already heard the answer, because you’ve been living with it for years. But you needed to hear him say it. Say that you were bipolar and borderline. And he refused. So you broke his mug. And when you were finally ready to hear the answer, it was still a stinging mark across your face, because it wasn’t supposed to be right. 3 years later, you’re still alive.

Over and over this happens. It feels good and bad at the same time. Vindicated but what the fuck are you supposed to do now?

Now…When you need answers. When the bloods come back highly abnormal, you get nervous. And it’s not nervous that they will find something but more nervous that they wont. You are tired, swollen and drained. So they had scheduled another test. And you pray something pops up. Because in all your years …Nothing has. It’s hard to fight an invisible disease when you can’t find it. Sick and tired of being sick and tired. So you hope they find something. So that you won’t  have to suffer without reasons…

But you realize in this moment that this may be the one answer that you don’t want to have already answered.

Food for thought
Shaye xoxo

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Another Fallen Star

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What do you say when someone you has never met, but has touched your life so profoundly. Do you weep freely or hide your tears from the world. When we lose those that shaped our lives through their words and talent; We sit in stunned silence as if a lover has passed. When the tears finally come and your body convulsed with solve, you curse the universe for trying to shatter dreams.

“What are you going to do next? Hit me with that fiiish”

Thank you for bring my awakening, helping me go after my dreams and just being one helluvah guy.

RIP Alan Rickman

Your star will never stop shining.

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I Love You Forever

I love you forever
I like you for always
As long as I’m living
My baby you’ll be

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I remember life before I was a Mom. I can tell you some tales that are outlandish but true. But those are in days long past, in a memory box, on a shelf not yet forgotten.

Jayson and Kaylin showed me how pure and divine love is. That there can be tears and scrapes along the way but nothing will bounce back quicker, fight harder or grow stronger than the soul of a Mother. 

Now I know that you can eat oreos dipped in orange juice and that boogers are nutrious. I know that when push comes to shove you can and will use anything to clean up spills, that magic eraser doesn’t work on all paint and stains on beige carpet are harder to get out than one would think.

But I also know a tutu goes with everything (so does a Batman mask). I know the satisfaction of being read to. And how important having medicinal peas in the freezer are.

Today is one of those days I am counting my blessing as I can hold my babies tightly. My thoughts are with those whose time was cut short. May they shine brighter than the rest of all the stars. And may we know that they are ever by our side, waiting patiently, till we can take them in our arms again.

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Maybe Dumbledore Isn’t Always Right – Rebecca Ethington

One of my favorite authors and closest friends posted this on Facebook a few days ago. I found it so profound, and you don’t usually find stuff like that on FB anymore. It summed up so many things, what ifs and lonliness, bullying, and just not knowing when to reach out and help someone or when to ask for help for yourself.

Never be afraid to reach out and help those in need, never be quick to judge because you never know what that woman behind that mask or the man behind the curtain are really like. Sometimes it isn’t east to click your heels together three times, sometimes their is no faerie godmothers. But there is always you, and that is good enough for me.

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“There is a scene in the final Harry Potter where Harry and Dumbledore meet at a place between life and death, and in that space they see a piece of Voldemort’s soul – this quivering, whimpering, ugly child, shoved underneath a bench.
And Harry, tries to go to it, convinced it needs help. And Dumbledore tells him not too.
I’ve always hated Dumbledore for that. Yes, Voldemort is evil, did he probably deserve what’s coming to him – yes. And I am in no way comparing myself to that quivering whimpering child, hidden away in pain.
But we have all been there.
We have all been so full of loss and heartbreak, and agonizing defeat, and sadness, and rejection. That we have all been there.
We have been that forgotten child in the corner, a deep part of us just shaking and crying and desperately hoping that someone would just come over and pull us out of the dark and hold us while we cry and comfort us until it all goes away.
I know I have.
And chances are, when you are there, you don’t know how to ask, or maybe you don’t have anyone to turn to anymore. You are alone, and you can hear people talking on a bench and your crying out for help, but they don’t come to find you.
So take this with a grain of salt. But you know those “whiny” posts everyone complains about on Facebook? Yes, some of them are just negative people. But what if some of them… just maybe… where people so lost and alone and scared and so desperate for help that they are asking for help the only way they know how. That maybe they just need that hug, or that phone call with a real voice.
I can’t believe I’m going to say this… but maybe sometimes we shouldn’t listen to Dumbledore. Because maybe sometimes they need our help, our compassion, our empathy and our love. Don’t be afraid to reach out – because people are people – but they are also human. And in this crazy world, we can’t do it all on our own.” – Rebecca Ethington

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