Greetings from the Valley of the Shadow of Death ? Moonbeam ...

Hello, my wonderful, beautiful bloggies. I?m sitting here in this trendy, slightly overrated coffee shop, typing as fast as I can. Amadeus is at band practice and I?m picking him up in a little while, so forgive me for the rushiness of this post.

I?ve missed you. It?s been a bad month, one of our worst. Amadeus? father died on January 21. His expiration was a blessing, because he was suffering a lot. The weeks leading up to his passing were insane and nightmarish. We were thrown into a situation that we were sadly unprepared for, dealing with scary vultures who were often present at my father-in-law?s bedside. My husband was his only remaining son, and he has lost the last member of his family of origin. I wish that it had all gone better. I wish that we could have barred the doors and surrounded Amadeus Senior with love and peace and kindness for the remainder of his days.

My husband is an amazing man. He took the high road throughout our ordeal, although I?m sure there were many shiny cans of whoop ass that he wanted to open. He stayed by his father?s side, and we comforted him as much as we were allowed. We loved him and we sang to him and talked to him, and we made him feel as safe as we could, although much of the time he was decidedly afraid.

It?s a long story. I?ve written reams about it? returning home after long days of insanity and pouring it all out on my laptop. Amadeus and I had to figure out ways to combat constant negativity and evil. They permeated the environment in which we were forced to spend an inordinate amount of time. I taught my new hubby a Buddhist chant (?nam myho renge kyo?), and we repeated those words over and over again. It calmed us down and brought us some serenity. We went home at the end of each day, shell-shocked from the insanity, but happy that we?d made Senior?s life a little more gentle and loving than it had been before we arrived. We made music, we drank whiskey, we wrote words and words and words.

This all sounds a bit cryptic, I know, but I?m in a?quandary. I try not to write until I can gain some objectivity, but it?s also my habit to write about the major events in my life. In even the most awful situation, there?s a part of my brain that?s screaming ?fodder!!? Everything?s ultimately a gift, because it?s writing material, and I loves me some gifts.

In this case however, the writing I?m doing is 97.3% venting. I?m depressed. I?m astounded. I?m outraged for my husband. Mostly though, I?m fascinated and repulsed by the behavior of the major players in this story. I want to tell you all about it, but I?m worried about the etiquette, about the correctness of telling this twisted story. I have to check my motive. Is it vengeance? Or is it simply that we have spent a month in a deep pit of dookie and deception, and I want somebody to hear the truth? I don?t know. It may be too early to tell. We are very bruised and beaten up right now.

But the thing is, I know that if anyone ?got it,? it would be you readers, because most of you have been here for a long time now, and even at my rantiest and raviest, you do let met know that you understand my POV. You also give me insight.

Prior to all of this, I was working on a book, but it was impossible to focus on those words when these other, sadder, more immediate words were filling my head. Maybe I?ll put some of them up as a private post. Maybe I?ll put them in a drawer. The temptation is always to publish, but in this case, I may have to wait until the smoke clears. Right now, there?s so much smoke that we?re wearing ventilator masks. I don?t know why I?m worried. Maybe it?s that I want to protect you from my anger. Maybe it?s that for over a month, it?s felt as though we were boxing with shadows, dark and vicious shadows, and it?s left us feeling helpless and drained. Pushing the ?publish? button is almost too easy.

On the day my father-in-law died, a few of us gathered to write his obituary. His widow, who is the by far the most heinous person I?ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, sneered, in a most hateful manner:

?Let Moonbeam write it. She?s the writer.??

I think she was referring to the obituary, but what I wanted to tell her was this: You?re damned straight I?m a writer. For weeks, I?ve been chronicling your disingenuous, hateful deeds, I?ve recorded your vicious words, and I?m going to tell the world who you really are.?

It might feel fantastic to publish it all, to feel the freedom of the truth after weeks of lies. It might feel horrible, as though I were abusing my super powers in exchange for a little self-indulgent blog therapy. That?s my dilemma.

We came home one night after a long day of dealing with this woman?s manipulations. I plopped down next to Amadeus on the sofa, our bodies sore, our brains exhausted. ?It?s so hard, fighting evil,? I told him. ?I don?t know how superheroes do it.?

We did do it, though, and we?re still doing it. It?s hurt us, it?s aged us, and we will never be quite the same. But whether or not I hit that ?publish? button, we are going to be fine in the end. We may have lost Senior, we may have lost a bit of our innocence, but we will always have each other. Sorry? I drifted into a field of corn for a minute there. It?s true though. We?re weathering storms, we?re fighting dragons, we?ve been dancing at the Proving Grounds, and we?re hanging tough together.

I know this is a rambling thing, but I?ve got to get it out while I have this little window of Internet access. Amadeus took a leave of absence during his dad?s illness, so we?ve had to temporarily cut back on some luxuries. Not that I think that Internet access is a luxury? in fact it feels a bit like a lifeline right now.

I have to run. No time to proofread either, which mortifies me. I promise, I?ll be calmer and maybe even a bit saner the next time I post. Nam myho renge kyo, ya?ll.

Cryptic P.S.: Ann Marquez, I will never be able to thank you enough for your kindness, and for sharing your story. You have no idea how much you helped, you have no idea how much it means.?

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Source: http://moonbeammcqueen.wordpress.com/2012/02/02/greetings-from-the-valley-of-the-shadow-of-death/

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