in my rearview mirror
it was a day of unusual things as many were with Tim, splendid, horrifying, heartbreaking, rarely ever dull. for the weekly photo challenge // unusual Continue reading in my rearview mirror
it was a day of unusual things as many were with Tim, splendid, horrifying, heartbreaking, rarely ever dull. for the weekly photo challenge // unusual Continue reading in my rearview mirror
I have that old hard-sided suitcase of Grandmas’, and on the outside are all the old stickers from some distant trip Great Aunt Helen took. At some point I gather you got your grubby little hands on it, and decided your name needed to be included … so in your childish hand you wrote your name. The little metal label on the outside says MCBRINE, … Continue reading Within An Old Suitcase
You know Tim, writing to you is not as easy as writing to Mom. With you, it’s this tumbling, crumbling, sadness, intermingled with happy smiles of recall, sprinkled with silence and passion. With you, it’s a entangled ball of twine that I everyday am struggling to make sense of. Life with you was a mystery wrapped up in an enigma. To be honest, I’d probably … Continue reading Betwixt and Between
“My dear, Find what you love and let it kill you. Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness. Let it kill you and let it devour your remains. For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover. ~ Falsely yours” ― … Continue reading The First Letter To A Dead Lover
Well Mom, it will be two years today I first posted to this blog, and thus was born The Temenos Journal. It was eight days after Tim’s death, and there I was all alone, staring out the window at an autumnal world. There was the lake, still in its calm cedar ringed glory, surrounded by things that would soon become a distant memory, I ventured out … Continue reading It’s Just Another Sunday
Hey Mom… I started this at 5:25am 2 years on, exactly when I held his hand and whispered to him, it will be ok. He could be honest, brutally so. He could be gentle, thoughtful, and sweet. He could be a good friend, and he could be a thief. He struggled with self-esteem, although only the astute would have known. He could be as mean, as he could … Continue reading Messy Memories In Paradise
I’ve sat here for the last half hour pondering what I wish to write about; heck, I’ve been pondering it for days. Everything inside my head is disjointed. On the bus the other day I got thinking about all the loves of my life. From the short-lived trysts, the long-winded disasters, each have defined a particular time in my life. Maybe that’s it? That THEY … Continue reading Princes & Pirates & Paupers
The whole day went by, I realized this morning, and I had not thought of Tim once. Wow. Christmas Eve, Christmas morning, all Christmas Day. Than as I was laying there in the bath… blissfully staring off into space. … I realized, I don’t know what it was, yet something inside me felt joyful. Like a release of wind, as I settled into the warm water, … Continue reading Another Christmas Back in Dodge
It was 3AM when I got the call. It had been an odd day. Out of the blue, or so, it seemed at the time, this volunteer lady with VON just somehow called me, and she drove me back that day to the cottage from the hospital. As she was driving me, she goes “now I have insomnia, so don’t you hesitate to call me, … Continue reading Hazey Dayz and Angelz
When I began this blog I intended to somehow, eventually, try to describe Tim. It was atleast one, of a myriad of other reason’s. Yet I’ve stumbled on it. I haven’t known where to start. How do I describe someone who sometimes I’m not even sure I knew? Tim kept his cards close, rarely giving you any idea of what he was really up to. … Continue reading My Tim
I first heard this story after the wake for Grandma, back at the farm. It is one of my favourite memories because it was the first story I remembered hearing of Grandma as a young girl – to me she was an old woman. That storytelling at wakes is a family tradition. I’ve found out so much, such different things, at those family gatherings. Continue reading Sisters, And The Stories They Tell