chapter 0.5

Grief begins when the impact of the news has finally consumed. Taking the news is one thing, then proceeding to ignore this truth - its what we do sometimes. Taking the news, actually understanding that they are physically gone and having to cope with the changes. It is the will of someone strong to do that.

Grief shows in everyone so differently, happening in different times. It makes the hardest hit at the funerals, when told of how it happened or in the moment of their last breath.

It can cloud your mind, and make daily life harder to push through. For others they cry that pain and then they can accept it – carry that pain in pride. There is the denial and anger, the refusal to be a part of what to do next. Then there is the few that have been there before, they go through the motions and are still able get through being the adults sorting out the matters.

Matters that mean a lot to some, in many forms. For someone to take charge, contact all the companies connected to the passed person. To pay for a service and the extras. If there was anything left over, to give spilt it among the children (maybe not always children aged). Sometimes its sorting through the possessions left behind; relics of memory that person cherished. Sometimes the hardest job is going through the old family albums, finding the times lost. This is in order to have some to share at service. This has meant maybe being in the rooms that the passing departed from or entering the shell remains of the family house you grow up in.

Coping with the ones who are gone has always been a harsh reality for those we impact around. We should always consider that those we love dear are the fortune ones.

Not to exactly pity but be considerate of the lonely folks who were discovered by accident. They once had families and maybe became estranged. Maybe they never had children and lived a full life to leave hardly anything behind them. Maybe they were widowed and never recovered from it. There is always someone in lesser and lesser fortunes, and there will always some that reached more people then expected and caused the larger impact. For those that cared for the dying that aren't family. Or that you were family and discovered them due to their death. Yes, always misfortune ones out there.

Everyone has a story. We all start. We all end. Everyday we loose and gain. Burden with memories left behind or uphold a pride to honour. We fail sometimes and sometimes we forget. We continue life, because staying in the past is the worse that we can do. Staying among the ruin of what is lost.

It should be ok to forgive, forget when needed and remember in celebration. To be allow to smile, make memories with those who are still here. I would think those we lost would smile with us when we do. Moving on and making changes has always what we do with life – taking a moments pause to enjoy or appreciate a past left behind.

I wish to dedicate this book to those I met and lost. To those I love and lost. To those that made me who I am and are watching over me. My friends who lost their loved ones. My grandparents. A young lad who died saving others. My responsibilities as a pet owner. These lives who brushed a little difference in my life, showed me colours and smiles.

Not forgotten, but appreciated when suitable.

These past several years has dragged on. My ruin. My inability to pass off my burdens as after thoughts. This is my chance to put these thoughts in a way that would make them happier, make me move on from my loss and grief. To turn the new leaf, as it should have sooner.

What I had not expected was to be approached by those I lost. To be given a new way of life, I didn't believe in. So in order to live my new life, I must get rid of the one I made. To turn a new leaf and try not to look like a crazy person. It be wise of me to explain how I got here.

Don't worry, I am not going to take forever in the detail. My own story isn't to special, but I do realize it's different.

I was born in America, in a less the stable family. Everyone there had struggles with something, and these struggles impacted us younger folks in the wake of it. I have survived several natural disasters, and even at a young age understood that I had to be mature for others. My role model was my cousin, more like a brother to me, and we barely managed to be grateful what we got. Yes, we lived with a roof over head and at least we had meals. I seem to ignored the bad parts of why he shouldn't be my role model. As he too struggles with everything as we all did.

The only best times we could really feel like family. Often it was the Saturday BBQ at grandpa's house. Those were my best memories of living there. Maybe the rare time we didn't go home but went to the beach instead - those were nice. Having apples, cheese and crackers when watching the river manatees. The other grandparents took me to cool places like Disney and Universal studios. They always seem lovely but my mom never got on well. The fantasy of a ignorant child, as I was then.

But being older now, I remember the worse too. I witnessed why they were fighting. Why we never got along. I moved schools, never making friends for my learning difficulty. I didn't have a father figure as such. I remember the hurricane falling the tree into the room I was in - the near miss over being crushed by the ceiling. There is plenty of bad stuff like this. The snakes. Mom in hospital with a spider bite. Being chased by a wasp and stung in the arm. The many times I was ill and seeing my mom struggle to afford health care. I remember the bad things about America.

Being in hospital from being extremely ill for something unrelated, I was watching the news - the collapse of the world trading centre in New York. The people falling, I remember that. Back before live tv could be edited or delayed. The horror unfolding across the country. Forever imprinted in every spider man film with the hero stood with the American flag at his back (yes the 1st spiderman was going to have a fight scene on the twin towers, removed with 9.11 being a living horror to us all).

I haven't even got to how I moved across the pond away from all this misery. But simply saying that leaving the USA doesn't mean you leave your accent behind. School in England was a improvement in grades and understanding but I traded being bully for one reason to another more annoying one. Being constantly told by others they love my funny words, jealous of being from a hot country where Disney is and was assumed I was from a rich family that moved away for the season. I finally coped with it in Secondary school. I got over the shock of being in a foreign country after 4 years. It has taken 3 years to stay indefinitely. That paperwork and money drained for sure. Still not a lot of money for nice things but I got the father I dreamed of. His a great man, I respect him always. We have great family trips here, so many in fact. Its just us, a small little family loving life.

I left behind the people I love like family folks such as uncles, aunts, my big brother cousin and my grandpa. I think the exchange was worth it now. I am doing well and better even. But cost comes at a price. I paid that price. I didn't get to say good bye to my grandfather. My poor brother was stranded without a home when we left the country. My other American members were left in the wake of the very things my mother ran away from. I am sorry for them but this was for the best. I can't make it up to them much at all. I was never good at being strong enough inside - regardless of how many times I often explain it to my British friends. They don't get it.

But other then all this, I live a normalish life. My mom's Voodoo has sort of become second nature for me. Having accepted the culture I came from and the spirit belief that follows. I maybe a weird American girl with a part British accent. Working a part time job in some retail shop. My style of service handed down to me from my mother being a strong hard worker. My polite manners and common curtesy towards anyone no matter what was taught to me by my British father (In truth he is my step father but he has been my only father). I struggled and survived school, college and job seeking. I took a zero hour contract as a career, looked after the elderly for a short time. I learned humanity but the job was literally killing me. I had to get out of it. So here I am taking it easy in a part time job, enjoying life a little easier now.

Time sure flies, 20ish years since I moved over the pond. Here I am reflecting of what got me here. The ruin around me. My regrets. My doubts. I don't have a life in America but I have enough to rebuild one here in England. That's a good enough start. Even if this isn't how I began.