Strong. Beautiful. Community.

My phone exploded with messages from friends and family telling me of the horror. I had barely been at work an hour when the texting began.

Slowly a first. A then a flood of concern and inquiry.

“Is everyone at Home alright?” They asked.

“I think so. Why? What’s happened?” I had no idea.

“Turn on the TV!” They replied.

I found the remote.

It didn’t take long.

It was everywhere.

A lone gunman had walked down a stretch of street as familiar to me as the back of my hand and opened fire.

An 18-year-old girl. Dead. Executed when she tripped and fell while trying to run away.

A 10-year-old girl. Dead. Succumbed to her injuries later in hospital.

Just like that. Bang. Bang.

Two precious lives taken.

And the ripple of shock was immeasurable.

My breath stopped.

My stomach clenched.

I felt ill.

And then I cried.

The brutality was so cruel. The meanness so deliberate. The loss so unnecessary.

This, not only in the city I was born, but in the neighborhood I’ve called Home for more than 40 years. On a festive and familiar stretch of street I’ve lived on and laughed on and cried on and loved on since an age I can’t remember.

The Danforth of Greek Town.

A street I’ve walked countless times with family and friends, and my own precious child. Moments and memories treasured and immortalized in the very pavement now stained with the blood of this unprecedented, senseless killing.

He just walked. Stopped. Turned. And without warning, shot into the face of innocence. Over and over. Killing the peaceful trust of my community. My neighborhood. My family.

No one will ever be the same.

He’s dead, this nameless shooter. This bastard who felt it his right to destroy and take the lives of others. His lifeless body found in some back alley. Self-inflicted or maybe the police? Who knows? Who cares? Doesn’t really matter. Even if he had lived, he took something that could never be given back with an unsatisfactory explanation.

Though were I Her mother, I’d want one.

These acts of rage and hatred and cowardice are becoming far too random and are happening far too often. We are so much better than this! I don’t understand what is happening anymore in this world, or why. And I’m so saddened and incredibly fucking pissed off that this is something the children of today have to understand, accept and survive.

This kind of shit is their future.

It’s so unfair.

So fucking unfair.

I’m going to visit Toronto tomorrow. A trip planned before this awfulness occurred. And I will visit my Danforth community and pay somber homage to the loss and shattered lives so deeply affected by this senseless killing and terrorization. I will see familiar faces in pain and they’ll all ask, “Why did this happen?” And I will wonder, just like them, at the needless cruelty of people.

I will walk that stretch of familiar street with a very sad and very heavy heart, and it will hurt my soul to see and feel the pain of confusion and disbelief and anger I know I will find in the aftermath of such inexplicable madness. But I will leave as much love and healing energy behind as I possibly can in the hopes that it will help the familiar and unfamiliar faces of the people and the place I lovingly, happily and faithfully call Home.

Toronto’s Danforth.

Strong. Beautiful. Community.

We will survive.

❤️

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Finding Solace

I’ve been trying to decipher what is intentionally good in my life versus what is not. It’s not an easy thing to wade through. The waters are murky and deep and filled with emotional piranhas who could devour my peace of mind in seconds.

The constant movement of bile and bias, of old love and new love, of memory and reality, coat me in oil slick residue that feels thick and permanent and over time, has made me almost tear proof.

Almost.

My Sadness will always be there. Buried deep inside. Between the sheets, around the beats, beneath the heat of my valleys and peaks, and at the center of any happiness I may find along the way. It is the bluish blackish bruise of me and I have embraced it as such in its entirety.

I am neither happy nor sad, neither confused nor certain, neither hurting nor healed. I am simply here, living in the quiet storm of this crazy existence. Some days feel dangerously volatile and others deceptively calm. Yet through it all, I find solace in the shade and shadows of yesterday.

No longer frantic and filled with regret and the endless ache of wanting and wishing, the past has become a place of sweet memory and a gentle reminder that love remains in each and everything we have touched, are touching now, and will ever touch in the future.

Today I’m ok with that.

It brings me solace.

The sun is shining, the birds are singing and life, as always, is full of possibility. And hey, I’m still here to tell the story.

I am grateful. 🙏🏽🌼❤️

Time Lessons

She promised she would never leave. But she did. I’m sure she’s forgotten and expects to be forgiven the breaking of her word.

She said she couldn’t imagine life without me in it. Clearly, she didn’t realize imagination is limitless.

She said we’d be friends. I see no evidence of that. She never calls, or writes or texts hello. No check-in. No “how are you?”. No interest.

Time is a valuable teacher. Often a harsh bearer of reality checks. But given enough of them, one can’t help but heed the lessons, desired or not.

The lens thru which I saw her, felt her, knew her and loved her, has fractured by the passage of time and the neglect in her deliberate silence.

My perception of what was is changing in the spectacularly enlightened kaleidoscope of spiritual growth and the slow rivers of acceptance that wash me clean of the shame and blame.

Life moves on with only a whispering reminder that our moments together are so thin and fragile and will never be here again. I only wish we all knew and understood and treasured them as such. Perhaps then, there would be nothing to forgive.

My lesson this time? Cuz there’s always a lesson.

Cherish all of my moments and remember, love is precious. Listen to the whispers of Life.

I get it now.

Wisdom in a forgotten birthday wish.

Internal Dialogue #1

Lately I’ve been feeling my personal/emotional worldview slipping from one kalidescope into another. Things I once knew with such certainty are now hovering on the fringe of doubt. And things I was absolutely positive would never be entertained by this seven dimensional mind, are springing into view lively and energetic.

In part, I am saddened by the loss of feelings and beliefs I’ve clutched close to my hearts core like a frayed and tattered lifeline. While old and definitely showing signs of age and wear, it has pushed me thru necessary conflict, always reliable and safe. And a constant companion for so long. Growing me, changing me, elvolving me and challenging me in unimaginable ways. A reliable, steadfast friend who seemed to have my best interest at heart. It’s a hard loss to comprehend.

I’m struggling.

And in part, I am excited to move into a new personal/emotional worldview because it means….

Hmm. 🤔

Nope. 

Still on the fence. 

Change does not always come easy to me.

To be continued…😶

Lonely Roads #2

On the bus again.

Solitude beckons.

Heartache shared.

I’ve screamed. I’ve cried. I’ve left.

I’ve hurt. I’ve breathed. I’ve let go.

So many regrets

Live inside the place

Where Hope should have thrived.

I am human.

I’ve made mistakes.

This bus ride

Is not one of them.

For weeks I’ve listened and watched

The Canada geese fly south.

Migration.

Homeward bound.

Eminent.

Wings spread in formation

Sure of their path

And their place

In the grand scheme of Life.

The first and the last

Equally important

For the survival of all.

Bound by nature.

By familial bonds.

By something

That has no word in English.

But as much apart of them

As their regal crowns.

As I boarded the bus

I found a feather.

Tucked it in my pocket

And wished to belong to something

That has no word in English.