In Memorium-- Anelisa Diane Dillion

Friday, March 1st my daughter would have been 27. Not a day goes by I don't think of all the things we missed out on together.

Each year gets easier, as Puneeta and I discus at our annual memorial, laughter, and tears lunch. But the whole experience seems like it was yesterday.

Writing about loss is hard to express at times, and hearing about it can be hard to swallow, but it is something we should all share-- part of the healing process.


How To Survive A Loss


Yes, I lost a child, but not at the mall, or on the playground
full of bustling playmates, and certainly not losing sight
of who they were when puberty hit. You know when the music
is turned up ten octaves louder and the whole neighborhood
can hear. When they would tie up the home phone, before
cell phones and conversations could be monitored more closely.
Months after my child’s spirit left the body and began roaming our house
an insomnia out of the body experience still seems fresh for me;
I turn on the computer, use their password to see if anyone wants
to talk (longer story), and discover a whole other side of them. Thoughts
cross my mind-- if they had lived, would my world be more intolerable. Fighting
off fear seems to be the worst part of grieving. A living child, surviving, has
to deal with parents who watch their every move, and with kid gloves.
How does a parent survive? It is an off button switch that was removed
when they made this model of the human experience.



The flu hit our house this past week. This was the last poem I wrote, and maybe the last for a month, as I will be in Boston at AWP conference. I will be back in a few weeks.

Also, just to let  you all know, I am taking this site down soon, and I have started another blog dedicated to my writing, a bio site of sorts with my poetry links and etc:  Elizabeth Akin Stelling (photo above is me playing around with an idea...)

I almost quit...

You..

But I am not a quitter!

Daddy always said our family motto was 'Akins might give out, but they never give up!', and it is true, I keep pushing on...

So instead of taking down this blog, because I began a bio-poetry blog for my work Elizabeth Akin Stelling; it will be my author platform for my two upcoming books. There is still no date, but I will list it when things come through. Pasquale and I are working through the edits the publisher sent us, and my own Cast Iron Tempo is also being revised.

I am going to keep using this site for TMI, but I did feel it takes work taking care of all the things and sites I have...and I joined the My Town Friday Shoot Out group again, so will be taking photos and posting their themes. You will get the same oh same ranting from me. If anyone is really out there, as I see there are many hits per day in the google stats.

Now Y'all stay warm and peaceful ya hear!

(photo above created by Moi in bitstrip and in my adobe photoshop!)

I know I promised...

more haunted plantation pics and stories, but then life happened...

It is not a great pic as far as light and all that, but I love Asian buildings-- and the corners. Once, getting very upset at a township for tearing down a begota just up the street; it was an obsolete thing, maybe an eye sore to the new owners, but yet they built a yoga studio with yin and yang signage on the property...I found the Asian structure to be a beautiful sight each day.

This photo was taken either in Seoul or on Jeju Island in Oct 2011 while visiting number one son who taught English for a few years. I did not see the dragon cloud until three am this morning while rummaging through files for a poetry project hubs is developing in his computer language skills.

Anelisa would have been 27 on March 1st; we often cloud wrangled with her brother who loves dragons and has a great one on his shoulder and arm breathing out her date of birth and passing date...just eery in so many ways. I could not help but write a quick poem for this.

Peace friends and family

Rose Bellish RIP

I got the news this past weekend, one of my good good friends, Joyce, her mother passed away.

Just returning from one funeral and into another was not what I wanted just before my daughters 27th birthday. She called and I explained that we are in a crunch to watch our finances, and I would not be able to travel down. I also have my AWP conference coming in March.

We talked about loss, she talked about the hole you have with a parent and a child. Hearing her brought back memories. Joyce also said, which I hear from time to time, she now knew what I was going through twelve years ago. I understood, no comparison, just a big f'ing gaping hole. We cried together.

Joyce and I went to Ireland together. We hung out and laughed when all the friends around us were falling digging into their own pits of unhappiness. We attended college together for a short stint, the kids were very young, my marriage was falling apart, and money was sparse while she made good dough working int the medical field. But as a true friend should, she supported me and I supported her.

Ireland was one of the highlights of my traveling career. Yes, I wish there was money in it. Cadbury's under the seat, while driving on the wrong side of the road, and no fear in where we would go for three weeks in a somewhat foreign land. Crazy right, who goes away for that long. A mom stressed out from a terminally ill daughter and a girl who takes care of her mom.

Rose Bellish was 85 when she died Friday, February 8th. Now she was a real peach. A true woman of wisdom. The relationship she had with her children and grandchildren was one of admiration. I am reminded of Farmlady on this. Joyce and I would be getting ready for a night out on the town, Rose would be talking it up to the both of us, no advice, just talking about this and that. When she asked you about the family and what was going on, she genuinely wanted to know.

We always forgot to tell her not to tell Marci we were going out, a jealousy thing, and she always seemed to call just after we left. But on the way out the door I can still here it like it was yesterday...Rose still chatting it up in the other room (she was hard of hearing) and we were out the garage door heading to the green Camero, so we could look good in a smooth ride; hair up to the ceiling (80's hair), and Joyce would call out 'Later Ma!'; it always made me laugh. She was not neglected. Joyce let Rose live with her for many reasons. Roommates of sort. Both holding their own.

I modeled my own relationship with my after those two. Rose helped me in some way learn how to let the little things go, and love him for who he is. Thanks Rose, you will be missed by so many who love you the way I do. 'Later Rose'.

(above pic is property of Yebyul Oh. My son's current girlfriend. It was created for a poem about my daughter.)

Haunted By Memory

As promised NOLA #1- dining with ghost.

The Ormond Plantation. Was fabulous. How did I find this place full of history? Well...

I needed a place to stay while attending my step-grandmother's (paternal side) funeral the last week of January. And a week before the Super Bowl 2013. Price were outrageous, but there was no where to be found within 20 or more miles of New Orleans. I got desperate and though maybe I would spring for a Bed and Breakfast, if there was one to be found. The first number on a NOLA tourist site was Ormond Plantation. It looked okay. Their website was a bit vague.

After calling and giving this woman my sob story about not being able to come in because of lack of space in NOLA and the funeral of my long lost grandmother, she was as hospitable as a southerner can be. She offered me the room through the weekend at a OMG'd price, can't say but I will say this. Nice nice nice as can be. She did not even want my credit card. Did I say OMG!!!

I arrived rather late because of the lack of plane availability from here to there, once again the fault of that Super Bowl stuff. Robin, the manager made arrangements for me to have the place unlocked. Unlocked??? Yes, it turns out I had the whole spooky place to myself. I got in my room and locked the door. The front door was locked and I had the key. I simply went to bed and made a deal with the ghosts to wait another day to bother me...

Continued in a few days...and with more photos!

(the photo above was taken with my cell phone- no room in luggage, due to small amount allowed on plane. It is the big dining room, from history of the house, not original, added on, and just me all alone eating a fabulous breakfast- fit for a queen! Below- my second course the first morning, after a bowl of fruit, tea and conversation with Chef Richard)

White February

And January tales...

It took my friend a few minutes to get this shot. Hands and camera can melt them fast.

I was gone for a week, did you miss me? Uh huh!

The reunion with my New Orleans family was a good one. The funeral brought on sadness. Grandmother Glenda looked nothing like I remembered. We did sit and go through photos and that was the woman I remembered from my youth.

The hardest part of the trip was trying to explain why we lost contact. Leda Faye told me her mother called my mom often. They just did not realize her decline into mental illness and my father's having Parkinson with dementia. How we were never allowed to get into their business, or told anything. Never the less we had a good time.

I will post some photos of the plantation I stayed. No haunting, the ghosts gave me peace and quiet. Maybe they new my poetry voice was barking loudly each morning and I needed sleep.

Till another day...