tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7381046159467952052024-03-13T04:50:44.562-07:00 Day Laughs Night Cries Healing wounds, one teardrop at a time with our stories - 300 words or underPeaches D. Ledwidgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13633411576434528080noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738104615946795205.post-57851598792812010202015-12-11T13:47:00.001-08:002016-03-20T20:21:41.545-07:00Angela's Heart-rending Story<div class="MsoNormal">
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6WVFIshSH3U/Vms_eA6Y9uI/AAAAAAAAA5c/txuf_3qpXyQ/s1600/Angela2a1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="258" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6WVFIshSH3U/Vms_eA6Y9uI/AAAAAAAAA5c/txuf_3qpXyQ/s400/Angela2a1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">“My name is
Angela McNabb.” That’s how Angela starts her heart-rending story.
Tears—unwelcome—stream down my face. Angela can’t see my tears because she
can’t see. I don’t cry when I listen to stories, or I try not to. But, this
time, this story, with tragedy after tragedy, penetrates my being and this is
the reason I must share Angela’s story with you.</span><span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: 17.33px; line-height: 18.54px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<b style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"></b></span>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><b style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><b style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Here’s Angela’s story</b></b></span></div>
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<b style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: justify;">
<b style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Confused and Scared</b></div>
</b><span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I had terrible headaches and I didn’t know what to do. One day, my headache was
really bad. I went to the doctor and he did a physical test and said there was
fluid on my optic nerve that caused the headache. He suggested I pull the
fluid. I did the surgery and came home. A day after the surgery, my vision was
not like it was before. I felt like something was over my eyes. Each morning I
woke up, my sight was worse than the day before. One morning when I woke up, I
was walking but felt I was walking through a dark cloud. I was confused and
scared. I started wondering what was going on. Something was wrong. I started
to cry. I was twenty-six and I knew I was blind.</span></div>
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<b style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: justify;">
<b style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">His Pain Got Worse</b></div>
</b><span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">After losing my sight, my aunt told my boyfriend, whom I lived with, that he
didn’t have to stay with me and that if he wanted to, he could send me back to
my home. My boyfriend said he didn’t care if I was blind and he said he would
marry me. We got married in June, then I got pregnant and had a daughter in
July, the following year. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Suddenly, barely three months after my daughter was born, my husband got sick. His head was hurting really bad. His family took him to the doctor and
the doctor gave him medication. But the pain got worse. His family started
caring for him and gave him herbal medicine, but nothing helped. Each day, like
my eyesight, his pain got worse. Then he had an epileptic seizure. Then he
couldn’t walk. He became totally disabled. Just like that. Within nine days
after his first headache, he died. I cried and I cried. My husband who took
care of me was gone and I was blind with no job and I had my daughter that I
could not see. </span></div>
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<b style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: justify;">
<b style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I Thought I was Dreaming</b></div>
</b><span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Two months after my husband died, my aunt took me from my husband’s family because
she did not want me to become a burden. I lived with my daughter in a little
house. But if things were bad before, they would get worse. A year after my
husband died, I was sleeping. Then I felt like the house was hotter than normal
and I got hotter and hotter. I thought I was dreaming. But I felt like
something woke me from the dream and I grabbed the baby and ran to open the
door to escape. I didn’t know what direction to take. I felt like I was still
dreaming because I couldn’t see. As I fled from the house with the baby in my
arms, I fell into a gutter near my house. The baby was crying and I got some
bruises. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">The house
was on fire. It burned to the ground. Everything I owned was gone. Everything
that was important in my life was slowly being taken from me. I lived with my
family for a while—they helped me. A politician heard my story and built this one-room house for me. Thank God for helping me through that sad time.</span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CaIpXsVSoaQ/VmoldQOFVaI/AAAAAAAAA48/ZIylaynqsmU/s1600/DLNC4.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CaIpXsVSoaQ/VmoldQOFVaI/AAAAAAAAA48/ZIylaynqsmU/s320/DLNC4.png" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I got saved
[and became a Christian]. I met a guy and he said he would marry me. I was
happy that he wanted me even though I was blind. Then he left. I cried and
cried. I was sad and I got depressed. I had a nervous breakdown and was taken
to the hospital and put on medication. But God was my best friend and He carried
me through.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span><br /></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">My Wish for Today or Tomorrow<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Most of the
time, I’m happy. If could move around more, maybe I wouldn’t be sad at all. I
do everything. Even the white clothes I wash are so clean and white that that
people say I can see. The only thing I do not do is walk on the street because
I’m scared I could get hit by a car.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I hope my eyesight will return. Every morning I wake up I hope for that. My
biggest wish is see my daughter’s face. I want to see her face and say, “You
are pretty. You are beautiful.” If I wake up and see my daughter, I think I
would fly. </span></span></span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZQS71HONoVo/VmolzaloOHI/AAAAAAAAA5E/zmTnZVK7mew/s1600/DLNC1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZQS71HONoVo/VmolzaloOHI/AAAAAAAAA5E/zmTnZVK7mew/s320/DLNC1.png" width="204" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"> ~~~~~~~~</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">(Angela
lives in Jamaica. There is no social system there like the ones that exist
in North America or in some European countries. Securing a job is difficult and
securing one with impaired vision is almost hopeless. I hope you will open
your hearts. I have set up a <a href="http://gofundme.com/mgeb9xp4"><b>GoFundMe</b></a> page for Angela and I ask that you share her story or
contribute a small offering (5.00 or more) to help brighten Angela’s Christmas.
My goal is to raise 500.00 so that Angela can buy some of the necessary things
she needs for Christmas. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">This is the <a href="http://gofundme.com/mgeb9xp4"><b>GoFundMe</b></a> <b>link</b> to
her page. And, if you know of an organization that can help Angela to regain
her eyesight, please help. She has faith that a doctor can help restore her
vision. Thank you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Thank you
for reading, sharing or giving.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Update</span><br />
Thank you to everyone who shared this story, wrote a comment or gave a donation. We achieved our goal. Angela received the funds. We thank you from the bottom of our hearts.</div>
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Peaches D. Ledwidgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13633411576434528080noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738104615946795205.post-42761488627647975482015-05-07T11:00:00.000-07:002015-12-16T10:26:28.706-08:00The Eye Exam<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3aeICBV_iIU/VUthUn3epGI/AAAAAAAAA3Y/rrVvSfJHNl8/s1600/DLNC%2BFuzzy%2BPic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3aeICBV_iIU/VUthUn3epGI/AAAAAAAAA3Y/rrVvSfJHNl8/s400/DLNC%2BFuzzy%2BPic.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Other than
wearing glasses and having dry and itchy eyes sometimes, I don’t have other problems
with my eyes. Yet, out of curiosity, I ask the optometrist to check my eyes
after she examines my son’s eyes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">The
optometrist does a general test. She asks me to return in the morning with my
son to check the back of our eyes. The next morning, after examining my son’s
eyes, she examines mine. Then she says, “You need to see a specialist
immediately.” <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">She makes
an appointment for me. I feel scared.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">One week
later, the eye specialist examines my eyes. Two days later, I return for my
results. The specialist seems concerned.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">“What’s
wrong?” I ask.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">“You have
glaucoma.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">"What's
glaucoma?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;"></span>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">"It's a buildup of fluid in your eyes and you could go blind. We need to take care of
you and monitor you every month.” She prescribes Xalatan eye drops and recommends
I learn vision impairment skills for precaution.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">I have
pigmentary glaucoma. My left eye pressure is 27 and my right eye pressure is
20. When I was young, I remember that some people in my family became blind,
but they were in their 70’s or older. I thought they were blind because
they were old. I’m 39. I don’t want to be blind like the people in my
family. I hope the eye drops work.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Every day I
look at things twice to see if I can really see. I worry my husband will leave
me. I worry about my children. I want to make them happy, not depend on them. I
want to see them do many things. Graduate from high school. Get married. But, I must face the future and hope I will
always have eyesight to guide my life and my children.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #990000;">This is Alesha's story. I interviewed her. Alesha is not her real name. (I gave it to her because it means protected by God). She wants to keep her name private because her children does not know of her condition.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">=================</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 19.2600002288818px;"><a href="http://www.kellogg.umich.edu/patientcare/conditions/glaucoma.html"><b><span style="color: blue;">Glaucoma info</span></b></a>: http://www.kellogg.umich.edu/patientcare/conditions/glaucoma.html</span></div>
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Peaches D. Ledwidgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13633411576434528080noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738104615946795205.post-8281301134943238982015-04-21T06:46:00.000-07:002015-05-07T06:25:36.862-07:00A New Life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-c2XgVImicQ8/VTZOF8joAJI/AAAAAAAAA3A/-zII3XxTZI8/s1600/Fish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-c2XgVImicQ8/VTZOF8joAJI/AAAAAAAAA3A/-zII3XxTZI8/s1600/Fish.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I was scared to ask my mother to provide items I
needed to create an ecosystem for my high school science project. We did not
have a good mother-daughter relationship. I learned that asking could result in
a verbal assault that bullied me into a shell. I learned to ask for “necessary”
things. A school project was not necessary.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">I decided to create a marine ecosystem without my
mother’s help. I knew a kid at church. I knew he had an aquarium. I knew he
liked me. I knew I could get a fish from him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">I asked him for a fish for my science project and he
gave me one. I do not remember how I got the other items, but I completed my
marine ecosystem, which was a small jar with the fish, algae and sand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">After the exhibition, all the kids took their projects.
I was scared to take mine home. How would I explain it to my mother?</span><span style="color: red; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">I left
it at school. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">A few weeks later, my teacher called me and said,
“What do you intend to do with your fish? It is growing. It needs a bigger
place or else it will die.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">“It’s OK to leave it there,” I said</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">“I’ll put it in the school’s aquarium for you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">I felt happy. I did not think a fish from me was good
enough to go into the school’s aquarium. For a while, I visited the fish almost
every day. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;">I felt good about myself.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">In retrospect, many people, like my
teacher, have helped others to take the next step to keep going. My teacher’s deed stretched beyond the story of my fish. My teacher—consciously or subconsciously—gave me new
life to be a better person than the one who was scared of her mother.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"> --This is <b><span style="color: blue;">Judith Kerr's</span></b> story -- I interviewed her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">--------------</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Image above taken from </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 18px;">http://www.desktop-xp.com/free-aquarium-screensaver.html</span></span></div>
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Peaches D. Ledwidgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13633411576434528080noreply@blogger.com60tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738104615946795205.post-47479792705120096512015-04-13T05:14:00.002-07:002015-05-06T11:03:49.188-07:00Strong Enough to Live His Truth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JXPNMn0X1Y0/VSuvo_aG9WI/AAAAAAAAA2o/AO143VxfKJY/s1600/DLNC%2BM-F%2BSymbol.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JXPNMn0X1Y0/VSuvo_aG9WI/AAAAAAAAA2o/AO143VxfKJY/s1600/DLNC%2BM-F%2BSymbol.jpg" height="400" width="140" /></a><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">It didn’t cross my
mind. There was no pattern—if there should have been one. No, I had no idea. I
thought puberty created the feelings of frustration, anxiety, and moodiness I had
never seen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">As the body developed—bigger
breasts—the shirts got bigger, and wider hips bought on discomfort that
triggered the need to wear baggy pants. I used to wear baggy pants around that
age, so I thought it was a tomboy thing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Menstruation came
with more anxiety. Then, with no particular style in mind, the long hair had to
go.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">One day, he said, “I
don’t want to be a girl.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">“OK.” I paused. “So… like…
you don’t want your breasts.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">“I need some time to
process this,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I felt his pain, his
frustration and the relief I could see in his eyes after he told me. </span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I had to help him get
through this. We went to therapy and everything made sense. I</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">’</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">m thankful that life had me in a place where I could
receive the information and address it. I cared about his well-being, his happiness.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I’m more aware of
what could have happened if he didn’t tell me. Now, younger than the majority of his peers, he’s now in his first year, in
university, in another country, and he’s receiving mainly A grades. He’s receiving
testosterone hormone therapy to match his body to his gender identity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I don’t want to come
across as a saint, but I’m coping fine. My biggest regret is not being
physically there with him, but I might have stifled him if I were there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I don't necessarily mourn the loss of my daughter. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 20.7000007629395px;">This is more about acceptance. I accept him. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I'm happy that I have a child who is strong enough to live his truth.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">============</span></div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 20.7000007629395px;">(Interview conducted with the parent of a transgender child).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><b>To learn more about this topic, click on the following links.</b></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-CA"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-CA"><a href="http://kidshealth.org/parent/general/"><b><span style="color: blue;">Kids Health</span></b></a></span> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-CA"><span lang="EN-US">http://kidshealth.org/parent/general/</span></span>-</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN"><b><span style="color: blue;"><a href="http://www.livescience.com/16110-transgender-teen-mental-health.html">Mental Health Problems Plague Transgender
Kids - </a></span></b></span><b><span style="color: blue;"><a href="http://www.livescience.com/16110-transgender-teen-mental-health.html">Mental Health Problems Plague </a></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-CA"><a href="http://www.livescience.com/16110-transgender-teen-mental-health.html"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">http://www.livescience.com/16110-transgender-teen-mental-health.html</span></a></span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: blue;"><a href="https://hereandnow.wbur.org/2015/03/16/trans-son-letter">Mother comes to terms with her transgender child </a></span></b>- h<span lang="EN-CA"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="https://hereandnow.wbur.org/2015/03/16/trans-son-letter">ttps://hereandnow.wbur.org/2015/03/16/trans-son-letter</a> </span></span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
Peaches D. Ledwidgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13633411576434528080noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738104615946795205.post-66600841864329649102015-04-07T12:02:00.001-07:002015-04-07T12:03:19.449-07:00Awaken My Soul<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uQ3Pnu8oPk8/VSQpKANIxII/AAAAAAAAA2Q/O_TfLHJQZQc/s1600/Blue%2BFlowers%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uQ3Pnu8oPk8/VSQpKANIxII/AAAAAAAAA2Q/O_TfLHJQZQc/s1600/Blue%2BFlowers%2B2.jpg" height="342" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Brush Script MT"; font-size: 24.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Awaken my soul<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Brush Script MT"; font-size: 24.0pt; line-height: 107%;">To bloom like a beautiful flower<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Brush Script MT"; font-size: 24.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That comforts others<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Peaches D. Ledwidgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13633411576434528080noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738104615946795205.post-44672699305583591652015-04-02T08:27:00.000-07:002015-06-23T11:56:55.350-07:00"Captain of My Soul"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wBed6SGMnSw/VR1dDhFnQnI/AAAAAAAAA1Q/r038o9M2xCs/s1600/Geoffrey%2BDLNC%2BJamaica.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wBed6SGMnSw/VR1dDhFnQnI/AAAAAAAAA1Q/r038o9M2xCs/s1600/Geoffrey%2BDLNC%2BJamaica.jpg" title="peaches & geoffrey ledwidge" width="308" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">There are many things we do not
know, things such as why some people endure more hardships than others do, even
when they try in numerous ways to prevent the hardships. In an upcoming post, I will feature a story about a young woman who seemed to have endured personal
difficulties higher than a mountain. Why?</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">William
Ernest Henley wrote the poem "Invictus" when saddled with personal
difficulties. Nelson Mandela read the poem when imprisoned. I ask you today to read
the excerpt I have selected from the poem and share your beliefs with a
comment. Thank you in advance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I am the master of my fate,</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I am the captain of
my soul.” - “Invictus” by William Ernest Henley </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Do you control your fate and are you the leader of your soul?</span></span></div>
</div>
Peaches D. Ledwidgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13633411576434528080noreply@blogger.com44tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738104615946795205.post-45908676463821011282015-03-31T08:40:00.000-07:002015-03-31T08:41:44.374-07:00Spread Sunshine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6sA4Z7kGvFU/VRq_PA12cqI/AAAAAAAAA04/Upu9GWSLq78/s1600/DLNC%2BSunshine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6sA4Z7kGvFU/VRq_PA12cqI/AAAAAAAAA04/Upu9GWSLq78/s1600/DLNC%2BSunshine.jpg" height="308" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Those who bring sunshine into the lives of others</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> cannot keep it from themselves." James Barrie</span></div>
</div>
Peaches D. Ledwidgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13633411576434528080noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738104615946795205.post-1598850158420522302015-03-30T12:50:00.002-07:002015-03-31T08:45:10.091-07:00Keep Moving Forward<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yow2fGySRYo/VRmoGenMdLI/AAAAAAAAA0c/EjdZJViVMls/s1600/Martin%2B1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yow2fGySRYo/VRmoGenMdLI/AAAAAAAAA0c/EjdZJViVMls/s1600/Martin%2B1.png" height="320" width="257" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “If you can't fly then run, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">if you can't run then walk,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> if
you can't walk then crawl, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">but whatever you do </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">you have to keep moving
forward.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> – Martin Luther King Jr.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NgwMnbc0_dM/VRmoZd3JJAI/AAAAAAAAA0k/JylAjm9Y_2g/s1600/Martin3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NgwMnbc0_dM/VRmoZd3JJAI/AAAAAAAAA0k/JylAjm9Y_2g/s1600/Martin3.jpg" height="320" width="228" /></a></div>
<br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Peaches D. Ledwidgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13633411576434528080noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738104615946795205.post-24527348753150036052015-03-23T05:08:00.003-07:002015-12-14T11:44:56.174-08:00Not a Lab Error by Rosena Joseph<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BRYjXsj2r_A/VRAjh0FFw8I/AAAAAAAAAzw/RBMESMsWvJ0/s1600/Jordy%2B%26%2BRosena%2B2.png.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" height="162" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BRYjXsj2r_A/VRAjh0FFw8I/AAAAAAAAAzw/RBMESMsWvJ0/s1600/Jordy%2B%26%2BRosena%2B2.png.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;">While most babies learn to support their necks in
a short time, six-month-old Jordy’s neck folded and his chin flapped on his
chest for support. I had mentioned the problem to the doctor each time I took
Jordy for a medical check-up. The last visit the doctor blurted, “That could be
a symptom of Down syndrome. I will submit a requisition to get some tests
done.” I took Jordy to get the tests, but I brushed off the idea of Down syndrome
because no one in my family had it.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;">The Friday, just before Easter, the phone rang. I
picked it up. </span><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3-aIG-5TuYc/VQ9XSbdSttI/AAAAAAAAAy8/PiB4YqhBGa0/s1600/Jordy1-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3-aIG-5TuYc/VQ9XSbdSttI/AAAAAAAAAy8/PiB4YqhBGa0/s1600/Jordy1-1.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;">“Is this Rosena?”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes,” I said.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;">“I got the result. Your son tested positive for
</span><a href="http://ghr.nlm.nih.gov/chromosome/21" style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: blue;">Trisomy 21</span></a><span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: blue;">.</span>” </span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;">“What!”</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3-aIG-5TuYc/VQ9XSbdSttI/AAAAAAAAAy8/PiB4YqhBGa0/s1600/Jordy1-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;">I collapsed in the chair. The doctor hung up the
phone. Tears welled and flowed incessantly. Moments later, millions of
questions flooded my mind. What will I do? How will I care for Jordy? This is
unchartered territory for me. My heart flipped-flopped from love to anger. In
the crevices of my mind, fear and fury collided. Someone made an error in the
lab.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;">After the shock, I told my partner. We had three
daughters. He was happy with Jordy’s birth because he now had a son. However, Jordy
was not the son he wanted. After I told him Jordy had Down syndrome, he
abandoned the family.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;">Other than a
minor speech impediment, Jordy is smart and funny, loving and kind, athletic
and authentic. He is musically inclined, an instrument of joy as he beat-boxes, sings
and dances to the latest tune. Jordy shows and gives me love. He is a gift. A loving force so fitting for this
universe.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;">Jordy, my son, is not a lab error.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;">Written by Rosena Joseph</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;">======<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;">Down
syndrome day was Saturday, March </span><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">21, 2015<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;">To learn more about Down syndrome you can visit
the </span><a href="http://www.ndss.org/" style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: blue;">National </span></a></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="color: blue; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://www.ndss.org/">Down Syndrome Society</a> - <a href="http://www.ndss.org/-">http://www.ndss.org/</a></span><span lang="EN-CA"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2943744/I-baby-s-best-interests-Mother-accused-abandoning-syndrome-son-ashamed-hits-husband-s-claims.html"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: blue;">Here is an article where the mother is accused of abandoing her Down syndrome baby</span>.</span></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-X8hl_1VhMlM/VQ9Yck7RWfI/AAAAAAAAAzI/qSTSOyFmf4k/s1600/DLNC-Rosena%2BJoseph.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-X8hl_1VhMlM/VQ9Yck7RWfI/AAAAAAAAAzI/qSTSOyFmf4k/s1600/DLNC-Rosena%2BJoseph.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-X8hl_1VhMlM/VQ9Yck7RWfI/AAAAAAAAAzI/qSTSOyFmf4k/s1600/DLNC-Rosena%2BJoseph.jpg" width="195" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Meet Rosena Joseph. She makes her debut on Day Laughs Night Cries (DLNC) with her inspiring and touching story "Not a Lab Error." She is also a member of the DLNC team. See her</span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> bio </span><a href="http://daylaughsnightcries.blogspot.com/p/about-us.html" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: blue;"><b>here</b></span></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> or to learn more about her and see her marathon costumes, click </span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://conceivewriting.blogspot.com/2015/03/rosena-josephs-debut.html"><span style="color: blue;"><b>here</b></span></a>.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span></div>
</div>
</div>
Peaches D. Ledwidgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13633411576434528080noreply@blogger.com42tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738104615946795205.post-70533331494629505432015-03-02T08:24:00.003-08:002015-04-27T08:13:41.000-07:00Everything Stopped <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VauUbYDouBA/VPSNe1TAIZI/AAAAAAAAAwM/OhyDGpAyGk0/s1600/M-Blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VauUbYDouBA/VPSNe1TAIZI/AAAAAAAAAwM/OhyDGpAyGk0/s1600/M-Blog.jpg" height="289" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;">“He moved in with
her. She stayed home, cooked and washed for him while he went to work. Then
she got pregnant. He asked her to have an abortion because his work assignment
was almost over and he had to move back to where he lived before. Mama said she
would keep me and my father gave her two names: one for a boy and one for a
girl.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">"I got the girl’s
name. Mama said he sent her letters and money for a few months after I was
born. Then everything stopped. Mama kept sending letters but there was no
reply. When I was eighteen, she gave me the letters he wrote, a faded light
blue boxers and an undershirt that had changed from white to brown. There was
no picture of him. When I asked her what he looked like, she said my image of
my face is the image of his face. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">"After having my
own family, I was curious to know my father. My husband and I found his address
in Maryland—he was married—and we got his number from a cousin. I didn’t have
the courage to call my father, as I felt nervous. My friend agreed to talk for
me. When he answered the phone, she told him about my mother and about me. She told
him I was listening.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">“Lady, I don’t
know you,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">“But you are her
father. She’s your daughter,” my friend said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">“Lady, I don’t
know you. Don’t call this number again.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">I hang up the
phone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">“Call him again,”
my friend said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">“No,” I said, “I’m
embarrassed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">I’ll never know my
father. That’s OK. I’m happy my children
have a father they know and a father that loves them. They are my family.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">=====================</span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">This is Maggie's (psuedonym) story. </span>If you have a non-fiction story you'd like to share, please read the Share Your Story page.</span><span style="color: #073763;"> </span></div>
</div>
Peaches D. Ledwidgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13633411576434528080noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738104615946795205.post-50457572901831241912015-02-23T05:35:00.000-08:002015-04-27T08:18:25.261-07:00Stories Worse than Mine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ai9U9Bo2RW0/VOsnTigab1I/AAAAAAAAAvU/DKuiN0RDKxE/s1600/Consolee%2B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ai9U9Bo2RW0/VOsnTigab1I/AAAAAAAAAvU/DKuiN0RDKxE/s1600/Consolee%2B1.jpg" height="225" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Consolee and her siblings a few months before the genocide</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 13pt;">“There was a time when it was hard for me to talk about it,”
Consolee Nishimwe says.</span><br />
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 13pt;">On April 6, 1994, the plane carrying
the then President of Rwanda was shot down over Rwanda’s capital, Kigali. He
died. By April 7, Hutu extremists systematically killed Tutsis (another ethnic
group). Almost 1 million people were slaughtered (mostly Tutsis and moderate
Hutus) in the ensuing three-month period.</span></i><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 13pt;">“I was fourteen but was the oldest
child in the family. They killed my father first. Then they killed my three
brothers, ages nine, eight and sixteen months. They threw their bodies into a
septic tank. My mother, my sister and I moved from place to place in moderate
Hutu neighbors’ houses. Some of the neighbors were afraid to hide us, while
others were downright mean and turned their backs on us.</span><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lSSxQ0yAK5c/VOsnXDYxfmI/AAAAAAAAAvc/QeoXIHVJMP8/s1600/Consolee%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lSSxQ0yAK5c/VOsnXDYxfmI/AAAAAAAAAvc/QeoXIHVJMP8/s1600/Consolee%2B2.jpg" height="320" width="221" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 13pt;">“By God's grace I survived. My mother
and sister, too. More Tutsi women survived than Tutsi men because the men were
the prime targets. Many Tutsi women were raped as part of the genocide strategy
of the Hutu extremists. Some had babies and many of those children will never
know their fathers, as some women were gang raped. Other women were infected
with HIV and other sexually transmitted diseases in addition to being made
pregnant. I was raped and got infected with HIV. There are thousands of stories
from the </span><span style="font-size: 13pt;">genocide against
Tutsis, which are worse than mine. Many stories of cruelty and torture were
taken to the grave with their victims. Those who survived need to tell their
stories to the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V7_wkpM7mPk/VOsp5BIcJPI/AAAAAAAAAvo/Ua_DxrfLreQ/s1600/Consolee%2BBook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V7_wkpM7mPk/VOsp5BIcJPI/AAAAAAAAAvo/Ua_DxrfLreQ/s1600/Consolee%2BBook.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 13pt;">“Writing helps me express things I previously had to block as a coping strategy. It helps me to talk about my
experience. It helps me with my trauma, and I hope I’m helping to heal many
other women by revealing my story. I have learned that no matter what you are
going through, it's a good practice to find someone you trust to help in your
healing. When I use my voice, I help people—those who are still struggling to
come to terms with their life situation, and also those who are preparing
themselves to cope with difficulties that may befall them in the future.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p><br />
<u1:p>=============</u1:p>
<br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 13pt;">Learn
more about Consolee's story by reading her book: <u><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tested-Limit-Genocide-Survivors-Resilience-ebook/dp/B008GZV6YU/ref=la_B008O2EDPY_1_1_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1425050146&sr=1-1">Tested
to the Limit: A Genocide Survivor’s Story of Pain, Resilience and Hope</a>.</u> Her
story will both make you cry and leave you full of hope and faith! <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tested-Limit-Genocide-Survivors-Resilience-ebook/dp/B008GZV6YU/ref=la_B008O2EDPY_1_1_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1425050146&sr=1-1">Click
here to purchase the book</a>.</span><br />
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<br /></div>
</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UAa7lYKs9jQ/VOIuOkVVV3I/AAAAAAAAAtU/i5DM-PmeNpo/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UAa7lYKs9jQ/VOIuOkVVV3I/AAAAAAAAAtU/i5DM-PmeNpo/s1600/photo.JPG" height="320" width="227" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">So you want
to take me back to a place I don’t go any more. So many things happened. All
the money I had saved and put into the store was gone. We kept praying for things
to change. We were always behind on our rents for the store and home. One day,
the sheriff came and gave us ten minutes to take what we needed and evicted us
from our home</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My dad
rented a place for us. Our rent was always late. The sheriff came again. We
were evicted again. We slept in the store until a friend sublet a place for us.
Our rent was always late again and we
got eviction notices again. Now things got worse. We couldn’t pay our phone
bills and the phone service was cut off and I couldn’t sleep at night. I went
to the doctor and asked for sleeping pills. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">With
everything going on, my husband was having an affair. I used to think it was
just the two of us. I thought he loved me. I felt sad, used, embarrassed and hurt.
I thought people saw me as being stupid. I cried all the time. Then, one morning,
I was very sad. My husband went to the store, my six-year-old son was in the
living room and I was in the bedroom. I felt I couldn’t live anymore. I took
the sleeping pills. My son couldn’t wake me up. He went to a neighbor who
called 911. The ambulance took me to the hospital and the pills were pumped from
my body. I awoke in the hospital. </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I left my husband and went to live in a women’s
shelter. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I wasn’t thinking of my son. I would never do that to him again. I was
young and stupid. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">===============</span><br />
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><b>An Interview - A parent facing financial stress and marital problems</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">You can check out Dese'Rae's blog, she focuses on people who have attempted sucide. Here's the link: <a href="http://livethroughthis.org/"><span style="color: blue;">Live Through This</span></a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Here's a Wikipedia link for help </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6666660308838px; line-height: 19.9733333587647px;">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines - <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines">LINK</a></span></span><br />
Here is the suicide prevention line for the US - 1 800 273 - 8255</div>
Peaches D. Ledwidgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13633411576434528080noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738104615946795205.post-77592289441408354562015-02-09T10:47:00.001-08:002015-02-16T13:37:44.611-08:00A Mother's Side of Suicide<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OuFdCLpebRg/VNkCdFfWtmI/AAAAAAAAAsI/_XkMY8X9xIs/s1600/DLNC2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OuFdCLpebRg/VNkCdFfWtmI/AAAAAAAAAsI/_XkMY8X9xIs/s1600/DLNC2.jpg" height="400" width="313" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xN2QLRSBmsY/VNj_5okUWYI/AAAAAAAAAr8/DnL08IEJjTc/s1600/DLNCMotherSidetoSuicide1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">"It hurts
like hell. Every heart knows its bitterness. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">My two
friends followed me when I got the call. When I entered the hospital, the
doctor said, ‘Your son committed suicide.’ At first, I didn’t cry. I was shocked.
I said I didn’t want to see anything or hear anything. I was angry. I was mad. That
son of a B…. It’s selfish that he didn't think how it would affect me. How could
somebody be so selfish? Then I met another friend who said one of the nurses
told her ‘some loony jumped from the fourth floor of the hospital's parking lot.’
That’s my son, I said. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">"When the Chaplain said I should collect his personal belongings
and a guy said, ‘Sorry.” That’s when it hit me. I started to cry. It’s
something I have to live with for the rest of my life. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I feel sad
sometimes. I relive everything when his birthday comes each year. I relive the
pain of giving birth to him. I say, Robert, where are you? How could you do
this to your family and friends? </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">"The crying
decreases with time. I don’t cry as much anymore, but sporadically I cry. I cry
on Sundays when I go to church. It’s not as bad now. The Sunday night he shaved.
He looked so good. He had this glow and I said, you should look like this all
the time. Monday morning he said he couldn’t sleep. He called 911 and they took
him to the hospital. He wanted stronger medication to sleep and they didn’t
give it to him. He must have felt that nobody cared. Some people do it
intentionally, you know. I ask God to forgive him. Nobody thought Robert would
commit suicide."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">(This is a mother's side to Suicide - an interview. The pain is real. Talk to someone if you ever feel really sad.)</span></div>
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Peaches D. Ledwidgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13633411576434528080noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738104615946795205.post-54328169019720724262015-02-05T08:04:00.001-08:002015-02-13T08:47:53.101-08:00It's Free Today - Let Me Die<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vaBoIoWQc9o/VNORoIQ9V6I/AAAAAAAAArs/MptoZ8xgvS0/s1600/DLNC%2BLet%2BMe%2BDie2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vaBoIoWQc9o/VNORoIQ9V6I/AAAAAAAAArs/MptoZ8xgvS0/s1600/DLNC%2BLet%2BMe%2BDie2.jpg" height="320" width="247" /></a>Suicide is more prevalent than we would want to acknowledge. My next post on Monday will address the topic. You will hear from a mother on how she feels after losing a child to suicide.<br />
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In one of the stories in Let Me Die, I wanted to die. Really. At a tender age when I didn't grasp what suicide was and is today, I wanted an escape from life.<br />
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Let Me Die is free on Kindle today. It's a short read and you will learn the reason why I wanted to die because I was angry I could not change something about myself.<br />
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On this blog, my aim is to address the not-so-nice-things people are afraid to address. I want to bring awareness with hope that we can get healing. Writing is one route to healing. Grab a pen and start the process of healing by writing your pain away.<br />
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Here is the link on Amazon - <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Day-Laughs-Night-Cries-ebook/dp/B00F9U5U1U/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1379520325&sr=1-2&keywords=day+laughs+night+cries"><span style="color: blue;"><b>Let Me Die</b></span></a>.</div>
Peaches D. Ledwidgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13633411576434528080noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738104615946795205.post-90079324898077723722015-01-12T11:16:00.000-08:002015-03-29T10:57:53.268-07:00Release the Hurt: Turmoil in the Home<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_5Yyjg8zvV4/VLQWqzSqCPI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/ydiG-rNlg_U/s1600/DLNC%2BHurt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_5Yyjg8zvV4/VLQWqzSqCPI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/ydiG-rNlg_U/s1600/DLNC%2BHurt.jpg" height="320" width="246" /></a><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 107%;">I am now happy I was too young to understand the turmoil in the home, the reason my mother
left my father. I was three. As information relayed to me by my older siblings about
the not-so-nice-things my parents battled, I accepted why my parents had to
separate. They were parents whose union had malfunctioned in detrimental ways. Breaking up was probably inevitable or </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">necessary</span><span style="line-height: 107%;">.</span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My mother,
who became a single parent, did not spew venom at my father after the breakup. She
gave her children the dignity to hold on to the best from a union that produced
six children. Her silence taught us to respect both. Our parents. And, irrespective
of an open invitation to be a father, my father stayed away. Maybe he was hurt
after the separation. Maybe he was ashamed of his life. Maybe alcohol had
devoured his knowledge of fatherhood. Maybe he was wounded from his own childhood
or adult life.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For whatever
the reason—rage, insecurity, jealousy, hate, ignorance, new hurt—it is
sometimes complicated, but many parents and children hold on to past hurt. As I
grew older, I held no grudge against either parent for separating. After all, they were not
perfect. Now, with my own child, I am not a perfect parent, either. I had imposed on my child a broken home, too. </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">And, though it
is easy “to preach than to practice,” as people say, I try to let go of past hurt and I teach
my son to let go, too. </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">What about you? Are
you a parent or child who has been hurt in the home? Do you hold on to your
hurt or pain? How do you heal?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">Together, let
us release our hurt.</span></div>
Peaches D. Ledwidgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13633411576434528080noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738104615946795205.post-78717171917856934532014-12-04T09:04:00.003-08:002015-02-13T08:49:25.753-08:00Letting Go & Freeing Our Souls<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ugFlFKyFWT8/VICH2roD6qI/AAAAAAAAAe4/hlHRAu_EqQE/s1600/DLNC%2BDC%2BNov%2B2013%2B6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ugFlFKyFWT8/VICH2roD6qI/AAAAAAAAAe4/hlHRAu_EqQE/s1600/DLNC%2BDC%2BNov%2B2013%2B6.JPG" height="180" width="320" /></a> <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13pt;">Spring, summer, autumn—now winter, we watch leaves as they cling to branches, some refusing to let go even after changing color. They hold on as long as they can, despite the whipping wind, despite the raging rain, despite the spitting snow.</span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--eJsdjvYBT8/VICH3k63ObI/AAAAAAAAAe0/UafgAfvTjO8/s1600/DLNC-DC%2BNov%2B2013%2B2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--eJsdjvYBT8/VICH3k63ObI/AAAAAAAAAe0/UafgAfvTjO8/s1600/DLNC-DC%2BNov%2B2013%2B2.JPG" height="400" width="221" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13pt;">We watch leaves on trees dry and curl to a crisp in the cold. Do we know why they will not let go? Maybe they are like us, refusing to free ourselves from obstacles and self-destructive behaviors.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13pt;">We see how our lives correlate to the discovery of trees
we view from spring to winter. We see spring disappearing from our lives. We
see withered leaves now gripping to branches in the bitter cold. We are tired
and have little strength to endure, but we still cleave, as leaves, meaninglessly
unto the dry branches in our troubled souls, as trying to let go is not always
easy. Yes, we know.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13pt;"><br /></span></div>
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hyK_Nw5kgB0/VICH_WKno1I/AAAAAAAAAfU/zb8MBokAI6o/s1600/DLNC-DC%2BNov%2B2013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ErXVMKyjtR4/VICH1O5HkKI/AAAAAAAAAew/BZAF0li1qwA/s1600/DLNC%2BDC%2BNov%2B2013%2B5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13pt;">Let us search for peace,
happiness or harmony even in the cold. Let us fill the void in our souls. Let
us remove the withered leaves and dry branches. Let us take comfort knowing
that, like leaves, we can cling to the past, sometimes, but we will not hold on
when the past continues to destroy us.</span><br />
<b style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13pt;">Whatever life path we take, we must remember that seasonal changes are like life changes.</b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13pt;">Let the leaves,
trees, and the seasons teach us lessons in our everyday actions as we live our
lives.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Slightly modified, "Letting Go" was previously posted on </span><span style="color: blue;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://conceivewriting.blogspot.com/">Conceive Writing</a> - <a href="http://conceivewriting.blogspot.com/2012/01/seasons-clinging-letting-go.html"><span style="color: blue;">Letting Go</span></a></span>.</b></span></div>
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Peaches D. Ledwidgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13633411576434528080noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738104615946795205.post-70847570554300234602014-11-11T09:30:00.003-08:002015-02-13T08:49:57.484-08:00I Cry Tonight<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fms7VoFVAVY/VMEX9iw0gUI/AAAAAAAAArI/oiCfLV-L9Ps/s1600/DayLaughsNightC-Ralyn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fms7VoFVAVY/VMEX9iw0gUI/AAAAAAAAArI/oiCfLV-L9Ps/s1600/DayLaughsNightC-Ralyn.jpg" height="320" width="222" /></a></div>
Neglected, I am </div>
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<span lang="EN">So many times<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">No one considers my feelings</span></div>
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<span lang="EN">I cannot trust anyone any more<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">Disregarded, I am<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Loneliness shoves me in a dark hole</div>
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<span lang="EN">Depression, it is<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">The world where I am lost<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">A world of burdensome feelings<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Regrets</div>
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<span lang="EN">Shame<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">Sorrows<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Feelings that never end</div>
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I endure the cost of my life</div>
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<span lang="EN">A life I never asked for</span></div>
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I am not happy</div>
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<span lang="EN">I cry</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"> I do not always cry</span><br />
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For crying is not style</div>
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<span lang="EN">But I get days</span></div>
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Moments that stay</div>
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<span lang="EN"> Today, unfortunately<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">I can’t hold back my pain<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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So I cry tonight</div>
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Cry myself to sleep</div>
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As a way of letting go</div>
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The burdens that saddle me</div>
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Tomorrow I will rise</div>
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<span lang="EN">With a smile on my face<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">Because I am thankful<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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I still breathe</div>
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And I will celebrate my life</div>
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As an innocent and happy child</div>
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© Amany Rosine </div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W50MfBVA1l8/VGJKAPtdYEI/AAAAAAAABJM/HPn8-xY1dnU/s1600/Amany%2BRosine.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; text-align: start;">Meet Amany Rosine. She makes<br /> her debut on Day Laughs Night<br />Cries blog with her poem,<br /> "I Cry </span><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; text-align: start;">Tonight."</span></td></tr>
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Peaches D. Ledwidgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13633411576434528080noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738104615946795205.post-60953820239823872212014-10-31T14:47:00.002-07:002014-12-03T07:00:44.356-08:00"Live Like You Were Dying"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KCBdVP1ZWxw/T6Agj2-_3aI/AAAAAAAAALA/rb53Hrd39IY/s1600/Terry+Fox+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KCBdVP1ZWxw/T6Agj2-_3aI/AAAAAAAAALA/rb53Hrd39IY/s320/Terry+Fox+1.jpg" height="200" width="157" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terry Fox, Thunder Bay, Canada</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KiO174SH5u4/T6AgLEao5NI/AAAAAAAAAK4/Rz9qD6WLUmg/s1600/Ferris+Wheel+SC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KiO174SH5u4/T6AgLEao5NI/AAAAAAAAAK4/Rz9qD6WLUmg/s200/Ferris+Wheel+SC.jpg" height="184" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Myrtle Beach, South Carolina</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Can you "live like you were dying," meaning having fun or doing "things" you wouldn't have done, yet you do them because you have a terminal illness? Some people say it depends on the situation. Some dying people become kinder and more loving. Some, like Terry Fox, do great things. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I ask, do we truly know how they feel? Do they honestly tell us what they think?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In the true sense of the phrase, I declare that many dying people do not try to live as though they are dying. They just live. The man who's given two weeks after a medical diagnosis cannot truly live as if he's dying. Thoughts of death make him a living dead even as he laughs. He has no control over his fate.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IX4KweAoQQ8/T6Afzjs_3gI/AAAAAAAAAKw/W9QtqaYjE0E/s1600/Dunns's+River.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IX4KweAoQQ8/T6Afzjs_3gI/AAAAAAAAAKw/W9QtqaYjE0E/s320/Dunns's+River.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Dunn's River, St Ann, Jamaica</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'm not saying that some dying people do not enjoy their final days. And maybe I'm even presumptuous to attempt writing about this topic. But I've seen much and I've heard many stories.</span><br />
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<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YlIXTwc1_4w/T6Ag9oxj3JI/AAAAAAAAALI/MdQXrx_lw-0/s1600/Washington+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YlIXTwc1_4w/T6Ag9oxj3JI/AAAAAAAAALI/MdQXrx_lw-0/s400/Washington+1.jpg" height="100" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Washington, District of Columbia</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">When my mother first realized her thyroid cancer had become a roaming parasite in her body, I bought the "Live like you were dying idea." I told her to buy clothes, travel (go to places she did not know), enjoy life, and cherish the last moments. Being with her and doing all of those things felt weird because I knew and she knew, and I had never forgotten why we were doing certain things. <span style="color: blue;">Death conquered our minds</span>.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5xvL2Qm5vPY/VFeZtC72H7I/AAAAAAAAASI/dozs7_fCSKM/s1600/DLNC%2BCN%2BTower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5xvL2Qm5vPY/VFeZtC72H7I/AAAAAAAAASI/dozs7_fCSKM/s1600/DLNC%2BCN%2BTower.jpg" height="200" width="112" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">CN Tower, Toronto, Canada</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ghI_65Ha1Uo/VFeatDz_9eI/AAAAAAAAASQ/qIoHzZwIfqA/s1600/DLNC%2BDisney%2BWorld.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ghI_65Ha1Uo/VFeatDz_9eI/AAAAAAAAASQ/qIoHzZwIfqA/s1600/DLNC%2BDisney%2BWorld.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Disney World, Florida, USA</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> <span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I now see some of those things she did as masquerades over feelings. Masks. The masking of blank stares and sadness her slow death did not reveal until the the cancer, in its final stage, hovered like a hawk over carcass. Under my mother's masks were fears and tears and pain and sadness, feelings too glum to express.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When my radio coach discovered a lung transplant was not possible to replace his cancer-infested lungs, he surrendered to death. His soul died. I observed him. Happiness walked out his door. He lived moment by moment. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">When my 37-year-old sister's cancer pounced like a tsunami, raging from chest to head, unspeakable sorrow flowed from her eyes as she waited to die. When the doctor gave my mother three months, life ran away. Her spirit died before her physical death.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Maybe I'm wrong, maybe I'm foolish, maybe I'm confused, maybe I'm grieving, maybe I'm just grappling with my own mortality. Still or for now, I don't think dying people live as though they are dying--in the true sense of the phrase. <span style="color: #990000;">Dying people live thinking they are already dead. You see, all eyes are on them. Everyone waits to witness the last minute, the last second, the last breath, the goodbye ritual.</span> Dying people know we wait to dispose their bodies.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Please tell me I'm wrong. Tell me I'm taking a simple approach regarding a complicated matter. Tell me what I'm saying does not make sense. Enlighten me. Please. (Previously posted here: <a href="http://conceivewriting.blogspot.com/2012/05/live-like-you-were-dying.html"><span style="color: blue;">Conceive Writing</span></a></span><br />
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<b style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></b> <b style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Here's an article about dying: <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2011/04/17/magazine/mag-17lives-t.html?_r=2">The Waiting</a> </b></div>
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Peaches D. Ledwidgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13633411576434528080noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738104615946795205.post-17032299504841374692014-01-02T16:42:00.001-08:002014-11-01T21:50:31.392-07:00New Year 2014<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
"Time flies" - 2014, Day Laughs Night Cries<br />
We need to work on this blog</div>
Peaches D. Ledwidgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13633411576434528080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738104615946795205.post-69479211454035002642013-12-11T16:44:00.001-08:002014-10-31T14:51:25.065-07:00Nelson Mandela : A Symbol Hope, Peace and Unity<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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A symbol of hope, peace and unity.<br />
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<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAgQjRw" href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&docid=kkX1vx3AEUpqcM&tbnid=_104vpgMQZAffM:&ved=0CAgQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fethiopianewsforum.com%2Fviewtopic.php%3Ft%3D67479%26p%3D409912&ei=hgWpUv3yM8KSkQfm44CYAQ&psig=AFQjCNHk_OEB0tl7eBpyMMNUzjSSKf2iXw&ust=1386895110944621"><img class="irc_mut" src="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQyMraJ1fT5OVAV_e5JZUSw5S13CLnww9ea_z5hpp8_vWx-7h4Rcw" height="480" style="margin-top: 37px;" width="480" /></a></div>
Photo credit - http://ethiopianewsforum.com/viewtopic.php?t=67479&p=409912#p409924<br />
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Peaches D. Ledwidgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13633411576434528080noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738104615946795205.post-10012796117788879812013-02-04T14:41:00.001-08:002015-02-13T08:50:31.599-08:00Day Laughs Night Cries: Trailer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Peaches D. Ledwidgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13633411576434528080noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738104615946795205.post-49567594750858811842013-01-01T18:42:00.000-08:002014-11-01T06:47:23.835-07:002013 Best Wishes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Peaches D. Ledwidgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13633411576434528080noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738104615946795205.post-14733497864805985512012-12-06T12:24:00.001-08:002015-03-02T18:04:45.531-08:00The Marathon<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>Marathon </b>- Geoffrey ran the Rock 'n' Roll Philadelphia Half Marathon September 16, 2012 to raise awareness about Day Laughs Night Cries<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Geoffrey Ledwidge</td></tr>
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<b>Book</b> - Virtual Blog Tour for the Day Laughs, Night Cries: Fifteen: November 12 - December 7</div>
Peaches D. Ledwidgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13633411576434528080noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738104615946795205.post-32135186171687066602012-10-30T15:44:00.001-07:002014-11-01T19:14:11.654-07:00Welcome<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Peaches D. Ledwidgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13633411576434528080noreply@blogger.com