Vicktor Alexander's Blog, page 35

I love how much you all love the Tate Pack and my writing, how you're looking forward to reading about Elian, Preston, The Dom, Vivianna and her daddy Matthew. I'm looking forward to bringing their stories and so many more (my VSF boys, my Cowboys of Mercy Ranch) to you. Unfortunately, real life, that pesky little bastard, has intruded and whereas I used to be able to type upwards of 12K words a day...on a bad day, now I'm lucky if my brain and everything works together to allow me to type up 1500.

So, the books are coming, trust me on that, Tommy is determined that every story will be told and with flawless imagery and beautiful prose, but he, just like I, must wait for real life to slow down just a bit, or at least for some things to clear up just a bit.

So thank you to those of you who have kindly inquired about the Tate Pack and my writing, even thank you to those of you who have inquired a little more...firmly than others. It does my heart good, and in those moments I'm actually able to get some writing done, which I appreciate more than you will ever know. The books are coming. The stories are being written, this I promise you, but expect a few delays because reality and change are encroaching on my time in The Den, but I'll be back there soon. I guarantee it.


Thanks again for all of your support!


-Vicktor Alexander

I totally felt like I should have fireworks and presents and stuffed animals sent to every single person who wrote a post or commented for the last day of Vivianna Week. Or you know, have some clowns or something (Lor). But then I realized that the best way for me to finish out my memorial and tribute to my daughter is to do the one thing that I couldn't do right after I lost her.

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Dear Vivianna,

I miss you.

There is a part of me, a very big part, that is so angry that you were taken away from me.

There is a part of me that still cries at the fact that you're not here, that I'm not taking care of you.

I think about the times that we will never have with each other and it makes me so sad.

I think about the people that I will never get a chance to introduce you too and I feel like crying.

Like this new family that I have, one that is loving and accepting. One that makes mistakes but then actually apologizes for them. They're a great bunch of people and I know they would have loved you.


You have an amazing grandfather, Aleks, who I know would have doted on you, as grandparents do. You would have been one of the smartest, most eloquent, most courageous little girls on the planet because he would have made sure that you knew how smart you were and he would have made sure that you knew that you could stand up for yourself because there are people who will stand up and support you.


You have two amazing grandmothers, Stephani and NJ, who I know would have spoiled you. You would always know that you were loved with them and they would have made sure that you were the prettiest, most well dressed little girl on the block. No one would have been able to tell you that you were ugly or that no one loved you, because with your two grandmothers, you would have known that it wasn't true.


You have an amazing older sister, Catrina, who I know would have loved you immensely. She would have made sure that you respected your elders, that you appreciated art and education, that you learned from the mistakes of others. She would make sure that you lived your truth and that you always knew that you were supported and loved. She would have made sure that you had fun, that you read, that you played sports and that you never followed anyone blindly, but that whoever you followed and whoever you put your faith in, that you had a good reason for doing so.


You have an amazing uncle, Damon. He's hilarious. Much like Justin, he would make sure that you appreciated good theater, you would be charismatic, full of life, full of passion and energy. He would make sure that you never took life too seriously, but that you always made sure to take care of yourself. The greatest thing about your uncle Damon, Vivianna, is the fact that in every humorous exchange with him, there's that kernel of unyielding truth there. You would always walk away smarter and happier.


You have the world's greatest aunts. Cherie, MJ, Heidi, Piper, Taylor, Xara, Katharina, Lucy/Kat, LC and Keesha. They would all make sure that you knew how powerful you are as a woman. They would teach you about standing up for yourself. About honor, integrity, truth. With your aunts I would never have had to worry about you being taken advantage of, because they would make sure that you knew your strengths, they would make sure that you knew how talented you were and that you never let anyone take you for granted. They would spoil you, yes, but they would never let you get too spoiled or bratty. They would make sure that you towed the line and were respectful of your elders, of others around you, and of yourself, because that's how they live their lives. They would make sure that you appreciated history, culture, that you acknowledged a higher power. You would be a force to be reckoned with and your aunts would always make sure you knew how special you were, how talented, how amazing (because they remind me all the time).


You also have three other uncles, Thorny (his husband Jazz would have loved you), Matty, and Brad. My darling girl, they would make sure that you didn't focus on the negative. That you always saw the sunshine and appreciated the roses. That you laughed. That you sought help when you needed it and gave help when it was needed. They would have loved you so hard and so fiercely. You would know that you could do anything that you set your mind to do and that as long as you have a family that supports you, nothing can stand in your way. They would always be concerned for you and would always make sure to put a smile on your face, even if it's just by being enthusiastic about a cover that you did (Matty and Brad).


You also have the world's most amazing great-aunts. Poppy, Embry, mc and Anne. They would love you hard and always encourage you. They would make sure to always acknowledge you when you spoke, they would support you, no matter what you tried to do, as long as it didn't hurt you or someone else. They would be concerned about your well-being. Make you laugh, laugh at your jokes, and make sure that they did all that they could to make you comfortable with being you. They would be in your corner, Vivianna, as long as it was a corner of your choosing.


You have the world's coolest cousins. They would have kept you on your toes, kept you in shape and made sure that you appreciated the Earth, the animals, the plants, that you would treat it well and that you would never take it for granted. The Nieceling probably would have tried to make you turn you into a vegetarian, but we wouldn't have let that happen unless you wanted it to. You would have a love for good games and good television and you wouldn't have been a Belieber (which makes your Daddy very happy).


And those who fill in the gaps of our family, Vivianna, they would make sure that your world and your life was complete. Lor, Aija, Sammy, Patty, Adara, Cleon, John, Thomas, Crystal, Kathryn, Maria, Amy, Kris, Sarah, CJ, Angel, Richard, Ryan, James, Mary, Gabrielle, TA, and Daniel. You would never want for humor, for support, for comfort, for wisdom, for unbelievable expression, for encouragement, for someone to be on your side, for someone to keep you moving forward, for love.


These are the people that make up our family, our world, my baby. These are the people that I wish that you could have gotten the chance to meet. Not to mention the countless others who weave in and out of my life to help me to grow and to better myself, you would have benefited from meeting them. And the ones who were here and have gone on before: your father Christopher, Justin, Valerie, Tabitha, Granny Mary, Mores, William Neale. Some amazing people to help shape you, to help you shine just a little bit brighter than you already do.


The things in this world that you never got a chance to experience are nothing compared to the people that you never got a chance to meet. How I wish that you could have gotten a chance to meet them. I know that you have, in a way only known to YHVH, met and seen them all and that you know all of these things, but not only do I wish that you would have had the chance to meet them, but I wish that they had had the chance to meet you. I am so sure that you would have been amazing, my darling. You would have changed the world. You would have discovered a cure, or brought peace, or made an amazing discovery, or created amazing music, or written the Great American novel, but whatever you did, you would have been amazing at it.


So I miss you my daughter, and I love you so much. I hope you've appreciated the memorial that I've given you over the last two weeks and that, in some way, you've grown to love these people, just as much as I know they would have loved you.




Love Always,


Daddy Vic

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Vivianna Week, Day Twelve: My Daughters Catrina & Vivianna
When I first decided to do a memorial for my daughter Vivianna, I wasn’t really expecting that one week tribute to turn into two. I’m glad that it did because over the past two weeks I have been able to see the different forms of love and family and it has filled me with such a joy that I know Vivianna was sufficiently honored. Losing Vivianna so shortly after losing Christopher, I never thought I would, nor did I ever want to, have any more children. The grief and the heartache was just too much. The hardest thing was the people that I expected to be there for me, family and friends alike, had disappeared into thin air. I had Angel, Justin and Ryan and they were very much my family, but that was it. Grief and death, sad moments, and moments of what my Granny Mary called “trial by fire” really helps you to see exactly who is in your corner as you fight the fight of life.That next year, after having the doctor tell me that it seemed as if my body was not equipped to carry a child (now I can totally say “duh” to that), I went home to soak in the garden tub in my new home and cry over the fact that it was official. I was defective, flawed, my body rejected babies, contracting rather than expanding to allow the zygote to become a fetus and the fetus to become a baby to be born. I got a phone call from Sarah, a friend of mine at the time, and she told me about Catrina, a young lady who was 11 at the time, who needed a place to stay.I won’t go into detail about why Catrina needed a place to stay, that’s not my story to tell, but Sarah said to me, “She really only needs a place for like two weeks maybe, but she needs you.” When I told Sarah yes and then told her about what the doctor said she told me that this was God at work. He was giving me a child after the doctor told me that I wouldn’t have one.I knew Catrina through Sarah and had always been drawn to the young girl. I wanted to see her smile and hear her laugh (she sounds like a Chipmunk when she laughs and talks), and protect her, because you could look at Catrina and see that she had a heartbreaking story to tell.Catrina came to stay with me and when two weeks turned into me getting guardianship of her (at 23), I got the chance to be a parent and she got the chance to have a real parent that loved her and took care of her, etc. It was, for us, the perfect set-up.I learned about disciplining a child, the worry that comes when they’re not in your sight, I found out that I was the overprotective parent who looks at everyone who looks at my child as a suspect, until proven innocent. I also found out that I could be the fun parent. Catrina and I would spend hours listening to music as I taught her how to walk like a model. We would watch “Reba,” play games, color in coloring books together, watch movies, and I always, always did everything that I could to make her smile and laugh. We had two dogs for a while, when we still lived in our house, and she was so good about taking care of them.I was proud as I watched her grades soar from B’s and C’s to straight A’s. I was happy as she went from only eating frozen chicken nuggets, to trying different kinds of food, to working out and staying healthy. I was ecstatic when I watched her go from a shy, introverted child to trying out for sports at school, getting involved in after school activities, making friends, painting, drawing, sketching (and boy is my baby talented), and getting involved in the community right alongside me.Enlisting in the Army was one of the hardest things for me to do because I ended up having to return Catrina to her grandmother, since her grandmother wouldn’t sign over her parental rights to me. I cried that night when I had to say goodbye to my daughter and it felt like I was losing Vivianna all over again. Catrina and I kept in touch and to me, and to her and those who knew us at that time, she was still my child and I was still her parent.So Vivianna Week has not only made me think of the child that I lost, but it makes me think of the child that I still have, even if it’s long distance. Catrina is smart and talented, my special ball of sunshine and being her parent is one of my proudest accomplishments. She doesn’t care that her dad is gay, she thinks I’m cool (though she thinks that her Aunties Cherie and MJ and her Grandpa Aleks are “freaking awesome”), and she has every faith in me that I will be successful and that I love her. She knows that I do and I know that love is returned. She remembers our time together fondly, as do I. She regularly brings up me singing her to sleep and reading bedtime stories to her and the day that I pretended to be in a musical, just to make her laugh (and let me tell you something, making up songs at the spur of the moment, is not easy at all). I remember those times as well, but I also remember taking care of her while she was sick. Buying her a tv as a reward for her good grades. Introducing her to my Granny Mary for the first time and watching the two of them connect and fall in love with each other (my Granny never stopped asking me about my sweet daughter). I remember the day that I had to return her and the tears that we both shared. I remember the day, a year and a half later when I had to go to the hospital with her, because she was pregnant and having pains and bleeding. I was scared and freaked out. Afraid that I would have to watch my child go through what I went through. I was ecstatic that she didn’t miscarry though I was grieved that I would become a grandparent so early and she would become a parent so young.So while I lost Vivianna, I know that she would be happy to know that she has an older sister, Catrina, and a nephew named Hayden. I know that she would love them both and they would love her in return. It hurts that I lost her, but I’m almost positive that she led me to Catrina, who needed me more than she did and whom I needed just as much.So, while tomorrow is the last day of Vivianna Week and I thank all of those who wrote posts, those who commented, those who wrote private emails to me letting me know that they were sorry that they couldn’t write a post but they still wanted to share a personal story with me and wanted to encourage me (mc-I’m talking about you), I say thank you. Thank you from the bottom of this gay man’s heart for your constant support and encouragement, for your love for your families, for the lessons that you taught, the memories that you shared. Thank you for helping me honor Vivianna, even if all you did was retweet a link or leave a comment. I appreciate you so very, very much. You have all become, in one way or another, family and close friends to me and it means more than I could ever put into words.Thank you again.
Vicktor Aleksandr B

My best friend Angel, whom I've known since ninth grade and whom calls himself "The Original Gay", wrote today's blog post. I cried, but then again, he wrote a lot about me and he doesn't often do the mushy with me. But Angel wrote about love, family and what it all means to him.
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Family & Love From a Gay Puerto Rican from Polk County, Florida
When Vic asked me to write a post for Vivianna Week I was beyond confused. I am a gay man who has never even entertained the notion of being a writer (there are some of us out there). I especially didn’t know what the hell he wanted me to write.                “Just write about family. About love. Hell Angel, write about you and James fucking, I don’t care just write something and remember that it’s dedicated to Vivianna, so try not to gross out my child too much.”                So I talked to James and he told me that while Vic said I could write about us fucking, that’s not really what he wanted. He said that Vic wanted meaningful posts about family, parents, children, love. He said that Vic wanted people to show that they loved their family, show that they loved their parents, show that they loved their children, and that maybe through some twisted way in which only Vic’s mind works, people will show that they care for him and Vivianna and Christopher, by showing that they care for their own families. Which makes sense if you think about it.                The thing is, whenever I think about love I think about five people. My Madre, my husband James, my best friend Justin that passed away, my Abuela, and Vic. Especially Vic. And I’m not just saying that because this is his blog, but because it’s true. I know that everyone doesn’t know Vic’s story, at least not all of it, but I do. I was with him the day he lost Vivianna and I saw how much it tore him apart to lose her. I went to the funeral with Justin and Ryan for Christopher to support him. Vic has lost a lot of people who were in his corner, through accidental death, disease, old age, freak accidents, but he keeps on loving people. I told him once before that he’s like the standing punching bag and life keeps beating the shit out of him and he keeps springing right up, never giving up.                Vic is the reason that James and I are married. He wouldn’t let either one of us give up on the other. He’s the reason that my Abuela didn’t disown me when I came out. He’s the reason that I wasn’t killed in high school when the other kids found out that the cute little Puerto Rican freshman boy was a “fag” and had to walk home from school every day. Vic got some of his friends to walk me home whenever he couldn’t and when I got jumped in the hallways at Winter Haven High, Vic was the one who threw down his books and jumped right into the middle to help defend me.                Loving someone, the way that Vic loves people, leaves you open to a world of hurt and grief when people die or when they move on, but it also gives you a strength to survive that loss. I think about Vic when I want to beat the hell out of my husband and I can hear him telling me that people in love argue, because there’s something worth fighting for. I think about Vic whenever James and I have another meeting about adopting, because Vic gave me the courage to try and be a dad.                And no, this isn’t just a “Vic is so wonderful, everyone should love him,” post, though I’m sure it sounds that way. That is merely background.                The day that I called Vic to tell him that Justin had AIDS was the first time I truly understood what family was. We were both angry. We were pissed off. At Justin and his shit for brains ex boyfriend Ian. We were mad at God, at our parents, at damn near everyone. I can remember picking so many fights with James that month, because it hurt, goddammit and how dare Justin do this to us? How dare God!? Didn’t he know that we were friends? That we were a family, the four of us: Me, Justin, Vic and Ryan, with our significant others and pets? What the fuck was going on in the universe when our little family was going to be torn apart by this stupid disease?                But even though we were angry with Justin, because he hadn’t listened to us and dumped Ian or gotten tested for AIDS regularly, we were still there for him. We still got together and paid for him to move from New York back home to his family. We still teased him and held him up when he got depressed. Don’t get me wrong, in every conversation we had, someone would say “And you with your dumbass fucking AIDS, Justin,” or “We’ll make sure you’re still here Justin,” but he would always laugh, because in light of the pain that we were all suffering through, family keeps each other lifted and encouraged, always.                Vic is very much a bulldog in that way. He could be bleeding from a gaping hole in his stomach and if you’re crying he’ll do a quick patch and be there for you. When Vivianna passed, a week after Christopher, James and I were arguing all the time, Justin and Ian were temporarily broken up, and Ryan’s wife, Tiffany, had just found out that she couldn’t have children. We all stayed with Vic to make sure he was okay and while he cried for himself, he made sure to be there for us as well.                That’s what a family is. They’re people that you can fight with, be mad at, but still love at the same time. They are the people who fly across an ocean to stay with you for a few weeks. They’re the ones who put their own pain and hurt aside, push aside their own problems and situations to make sure that you’re okay, whether you do the same for them or not. Family is selfless and priceless. So is love. Which is why those you love become your family.                So while I could’ve written all about James teaching me about the wonder of making love while on the plane flying from Heathrow in England to JFK in New York, and how there is a plane full of people who know what I sound like when I have an orgasm, I decided to write about love instead and about family because that’s what Vic is to me and that’s what he had with his daughter Vivianna and fiancé Christopher and that’s what he gives to others and receives from those who are special enough to see how amazing it is to be loved by him and want to give that love back.                I love you Vic. I really, really do. I’m so glad that you’re doing this for Vivianna and you know that Justin is up in Heaven singing “Summer Lovin’” with her and teaching her all of the dance steps. She’s in good hands up there.

Angel


(Angel doesn’t have a bio so I wrote one for him):                Angel Rodriguez-Benton was born to a feisty Puerto Rican mother who still maintains that his father is Juan Valdez and that’s the reason that Angel’s obsession with coffee is in his birthright. A graduate of the University of South Florida with a major in communications, Angel proudly states that he does his best communicating when shopping, cooking, dancing, and making love to “the sexiest white boy in the world,” his husband James. Affectionately called "The Original Gay" by family and friends or "Bitch" by those who know him best, Angel is out and proud and tell those who don't like it, that they can kiss his sexy, gay boy, Puerto Rican ass. Angel divides his time between answering the phones at his in-laws company, talking to his best friend Vic about cloning himself, getting fucked by his husband on a repeated basis (in the most delicious places that we can think of) and spending all of said husband’s money. Angel refuses to get a Twitter, a Facebook, a Myspace and only uses his email when he absolutely has to as the internet is “where time goes to die and ugly men become hot gay twinks.”

Today's post for Vivianna Week (Part Two) is written by Claudia "CJ" Jardine. CJ has always been super supportive of me when it comes to my transitioning, my writing, my attempts to save the world, and my future. In the case of me remembering my daughter, her support was no different. And when I asked her to write a post, with the option of saying no if she wanted to (I always tell people that they can tell me no. I'm all about the freedom to choose), I was honored when she said yes. So enjoy CJ's post about her take on children of the heart and children of the womb.

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When Vic asked me to write a post for Vivianna Week I was very surprised and extremely humbled. And nervous. It took me a while to say yes. But that's because I don't often talk about the loss of my child. I was 20 when I miscarried. Looking back now, I can clearly see how it truly was for the best. But back then...

I met him Oct, 1990 through a mutual friend. He was near my height, blond and blue eyed. He had a bit of bad boy about him. Didn't realize till later that it was more than a bit. We dated for a few weeks, my mother totally disapproved of him, which of course, made me want him more. I got pregnant sometime in early Dec but didn't know till after we broke up in Jan. Even with that sadness I was excited and happy. And then 4 weeks later the pregnancy was over. In the meantime, drama with the ex, my family and a soon to be former friend all came to a head. I was stressed out, depressed and trying to hold on to something that wasn't there. I knew I lost the baby before it was confirmed, but I so desperately wanted to be pregnant that I denied it. Especially when it seemed like everyone was coming up pregnant and staying pregnant! Because my friends were caught up in their pregnancies, no one seemed to mourn my loss. To me it seemed because my pregnancy didn't go past the first trimester, people didn't think it mattered. Or that it wasn't official. So I had no one to turn too. No one to grieve with me. I never turned to alcohol or drugs. I just turned inward and lost myself to depression for that entire year. I came back in bits and pieces. I played piano for about 12 years and taught for 2 by then, but I think I played more that year than I had ever played before or since. It was my outlet and my balm. It wasn't until the birth of my god-daughter the following year that I finally felt whole. Kayla has brought me so much love and joy! She may not be the child of my womb, but she def is the child of my heart.

Today, I don't have any children of my own. There are enough people running around loving me and calling me Aunt CJ to fill whatever void may be there. And that's quite all right with me!
CJ

I am so honored to have  Mary Calmes  here today for Vivianna Week. She wrote a very sweet, short post about her relationship with her mother and what she learned about it after having her daughter. Mary has been an absolute sweetheart to me over the last 2 years and has been super supportive of me. She's also one of the most amazing authors that I've ever had the privilege of reading before (hello!? The Change of Heart/werepanther series? Have you read Honored Vow? Or Timing & its sequel After the Sunset?).
So enjoy!

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My Daughter



My mother passed away five years ago and I still miss her. What’s interesting though is that before my oldest child was born, I had not been close to her in about 11 years. I left home when I was eighteen, bolted fast, because growing up with her and my step-father was hard. It’s not important the why what was important was the distance that living together created. We weren’t friends, we weren’t parent and child. We were nothing. Sometimes we spoke on the phone but the conversations had yearlong lapses between them and for all intents and purposes she was gone from my life. But that all changed with the birth of my first child.

When my girl was born, I finally understood that without your mother, a child has no chance. And I mean without a mother or a father, without a caretaker, that a child is helpless and fragile. I didn’t really get that before. I had done some babysitting and I had friends that had kids but it still didn’t click in my head. But when I became a parent, for me I realized what exactly my mother had done to keep me healthy for the first year of my life. Parenthood is hard. You don’t sleep; I haven’t slept in twelve years at this point. But the birth of my child was the only thing in the world that could have bridged that gap between us. Children born, those who are with us only in hearts or minds, and those that we have lost, bring people together for love and eventual healing. It’s their way.

Today's post for Vivianna Week (Part Two) comes from Sarah Botting, aka Pointycat69, who so graciously offered up a very sweet post. Enjoy!


[image error] And that made me think of other photos that mean a lot to me. Some of them make me smile; my sister’s wedding, her graduation, my graduation, pictures of my family with silly expressions or doing silly things – there’s a lovely one of my dad in the garden with one of the cats draped over his shoulders. It isn’t a very flattering picture of either him or the cat to be fair but it dad is smiling and the picture always makes me smile.Some of the photos are very precious to me; I have one of mum holding me while I was still a baby. She looks so young, younger than I am now, and she has that same expression of love that Hannah has while holding Gwyn.
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Some of the photos make me cry; I have some of my gran, my Nana (on my dad’s side).  She had Alzheimer’s and the photos were taken in the year before she died. She looks so very fragile and confused even with her family beside her. But those memories are still precious for all that they’re sad.
Nana with mum & dad
[image error] When I look at those pictures of her I can see how ill she was and I remember how painful I found spending time with her. Alzheimer’s is a cruel illness; she was drifting back into the past, was often upset and paranoid, and could no longer take care of herself. Occasionally she’d realise what was happening to her, how ill she was and she’d be distraught. And we were all trying to smile, to pretend everything was okay so she’d be less upset. Those memories still hurt.But at the same time I remember that she looked after my sister and me during the holidays. We’d watch TV together, sit in the garden, play dress up and listen to her. She comforted us when family members died. She lived just down the road from us; she was always there when we were growing up. And I loved her. Still do.
So although some of those pictures make me cry I treasure them all.








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I'm bi, depressed and easily irritated...and hopelessly addicted to tea (black, no sugar please!). Courtesy of the depression I’ve been unable to work for a bit now; in the meantime I paint, draw, bead, knit and read a lot – which means I have no floor or shelf space as well as bags of wool stuffed under the chairs. Next hobby will take up less space. Honest!

I found these poems in my old email. They are poems that people sent to me right after I lost Vivianna. Some of them are ones that I found only recently. They are so filled with love and emotion that I knew they had to be the post for today. They show that a parent doesn't stop being a parent, just because their child goes to Heaven.



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I thought of you and closed my eyes,



And prayed to God today.



I asked what makes a Mother,



And I know I heard him say:



A mother has a baby,



This we know is true.



But, God, can you be a mother,



When your baby's not with you?



Yes, you can he replied,



With confidence in his voice.



I give many women babies,



When they leave is not thier choice.



Some I send for a lifetime,



And others for a day.



And some I send to feel your womb,



But theres no need to stay.



I just don't understand this God,



I want my baby here.



He took a breath and cleared his throat,



And then I saw a tear.



I wish that I could show you,



What your child is doing today,



If you could see your child smile,



With other children who say:



We go to earth and learn our lessons,



Of love and life and fear.



My mommy loved me oh so much,



I got to come straight here.



I feel so lucky to have a mom,



Who had so much love for me.



I learned my lessons very quickly,



My mommy set me free.



I miss my mommy oh so much,



But I visit her each day.



When she goes to sleep,



On her pillow's where I lay.



I stroke her hair and kiss her cheek,



And whisper in her ear.



"Mommy don't be sad today, I'm your baby and I'm here."



So you see my dear sweet one,



Your children are Ok.



Your babies are here in My home,



They'll be at heavens gate for you.



So now you see what makes a mother.



It's the feeling in your heart.



It's the love you had so much of,



Right from the very start.



Though some on earth may not realize you are a mother,



until their time is done.



They'll be up here with Me one day,



And you'll know that you're the best one!



~Author Unknown















"These are my footprints,



so perfect and so small.



These tiny footprints



never touched the ground at all.



Not one tiny footprint,



for now I have wings.



These tiny footprints were meant



for other things.



You will hear my tiny footprints,



in the patter of the rain.



Gentle drops like angel's tears,



of joy and not from pain.



You will see my tiny footprints,



in each butterflies' lazy dance.



I'll let you know I'm with you,



if you just give me the chance.



You will see my tiny footprints,



in the rustle of the leaves.



I will whisper names into the wind,



and call each one that grieves.



Most of all, these tiny footprints,



are found on Mommy and Daddy's hearts.



'Cause even though I'm gone now,



We'll never truly part."



~Unknown















"I know I'll see the sun shine bright



upon my baby's face....



When I finally get to heaven,



all my pain will be erased.









We'll soar the skies together,



as angels two by two.



We'll have a sweet reunion,



this mother's dream come true!"



~Unknown















"Daddy please don't look so sad, momma please don't cry.



Cause I'm in the arms of Jesus, and he sings me lullabies.



Please try not to question God, don't think he is unkind.



Don't think he sent me to you and then changed his mind.



You see I'm a special child, I am needed up above.



I'm the special gift you gave Him, a product of your love.



I'll always be there with you, so watch the sky at night.



Look for the brightest star and know that's my halo's brilliant light.



You'll see me in the morning frost that mists your window pane.



That's me in the summer showers, I'll be dancing in the rain.



When you feel a gentle breeze from a gentle wind that blows.



Know that it's me planting a kiss upon your nose.



When you see a child playing and your heart feels a tug,



Don't be sad mommy, that's just me giving your heart a hug.



So daddy don't looks so sad and momma please don't cry.



I'm in the arms of Jesus and he sings me lullabies!



~Unknown















Forget me not



My little one



You have left us too soon



Though my body can no longer hold you



I hold you forever in my heart



As precious and beautiful as this flower caught in time



A mother's love does not forget.



~Unknown















We go through life so often



Not stopping to enjoy the day,



And we take each one for granted



As we travel on our way.









We never stop to measure



Anything we just might miss,



But if the wind should blow by softly



You'll feel an angel's kiss.









A kiss that is sent from Heaven



A kiss from up above,



A kiss that is very special



From someone that you love.









For in your pain and sorrow



An angel's kiss will help you through,



This kiss is very private



For it is meant for only you.









So when your hearts are heavy



And filled with tears and pain,



And no one can console you



Remember once again.....









About the ones you grieve for



Because you sadly miss



And the gentle breeze you took for granted



Was just......... "an angel's kiss."



~Unknown















If tears could build a stairway,



And memories were a lane,



We would walk right up to heaven



To bring you down again.



No farewell words were spoken,



No time to say good-bye.



You were gone before we knew it,



And only God knows why.



Our hearts still ache in sadness



And secret tears still flow,



What it meant to lose you,



No one will ever know.



When we are sad and lonely,



And everything goes wrong,



We seem to hear you whisper



"Cheer up and carry on."



Each time we look at your pictures,



You seem to smile and say,



"Don't cry, I'm only sleeping,



We'll meet again someday."



~Unknown















To All Parents



"I'll lend you for a while a child of mine,"



He said.



"For you to love the while he lives and mourn for



when he's dead.



It may be six or seven years, or twenty-two or



three,



But will you, till I call him back, take care of



him for me?



He'll bring his charms to gladden you, and should



his stay be brief,



You'll have his lovely memories as solace for



your grief.



I cannot promise he will stay; since all from



earth return,



But there are lessons taught down there I



want this child to learn.



I've looked the wide world over in My search



for teachers true



And from the throngs that crowd life's lanes



I have selected you.



Now will you give him all your love, not think



the labor vain, Nor hate Me when I come to call to take him back again?"



I fancied that I that I heard them say, "Dear Lord,



Thy will be done!



For all the joy Thy child shall bring, the



risk of grief we run.



We'll shelter him with tenderness, we'll



love him while we may,



And for the happiness we've known, forever



grateful stay;



But should the angels call for him much sooner



than we've planned,



We'll brave the bitter grief that comes and



try to understand."



~Unknown















You never said you're leaving



You never said goodbye



You were gone before I knew it,



And only God knew why.



A million times I needed you,



A million times I cried.



If love alone could have saved you,



You never would have died.



In life I loved you dearly



In death I love you still



In my heart you hold a place,



That nobody could ever fill.



It broke my heart to lose you,



But you didn't go alone



For part of me went with you,



The day God took you home.



~Unknown















Don't let them say, I wasn't born



That something stopped my heart



I felt each tender squeeze you gave



I've loved you from the start.









Although my body you can't hold,



It doesn't mean I'm gone.



This world was worthy, not, of me



God chose that I move on.









I know the pain that drowns your soul,



What you are forced to face.



You have my word, I'll fill your arms



Someday we will embrace.









You'll hear that it was "meant to be,



God doesn't make mistakes"



But that won't soften your worst blow..



Or make your heart not ache.









I'm watching over all you do,



another child you'll bear.



Believe me when I say to you,



That I am always there.









There will come a time, I promise you



When you will hold my hand,



Stroke my face and kiss my lips



And then you'll understand.









Although, I've never breathed your air,



Or gazed into your eyes..



That doesn't mean I never "was"



An Angel Never Dies........



~Unknown















Please don't tell them you never got to know me



It is I whose kicks you will always remember,



I who gave you heartburn that a dragon would envy,



I who couldn't seem to tell time and got your days and nights mixed up,



It is I who acknowledged your craving for ice cream by knocking the cold bowl off your belly,



I who went shopping and helped you pick out the perfect teddy bear for me,



I who liked to be cradled in your belly and rocked off to dreamy slumber by the fire,



It is I who never had a doubt about your love,



It is I who was able to put a lifetime of joy into an instant.



~Unknown















Your little heart beating so strongly



All those months



Is silent.



Your little arms and legs



Moving so vigorously



Are still.









Milk falling like tears from your mother's breasts



Will never nourish you.



Your eyes will never sparkle



Your little voice forever silent.









Your mother and father hold you in their arms,



Timidly kissing your soft, smooth cheek



Caressing your tiny fingers



And whispering your name with tears.









We dream of holding you



Of watching you smile and grow



Our love is always with you



Though you will never know.



~Unknown















We couldn't wait to hold you



And see your pretty face.



To count your little fingers,



And check your toes are in their place.









It should have been the happiest day



To remember all our life.



But joy had turned to heartache,



No breath, no beat, no life.









We will never see you smile,



Or hear your hearty cry.



We will never be able to dry your tears,



Or share your happy times.









Our precious little Angel,



We will always know your face.



In our hearts and stars forever,



You will always have a place.



~Unknown

Today's post for Vivianna Week comes from my friend Justin. Yes I know, Justin's passed away and he and Vivianna are hanging out together up in Heaven, but my best friend, Angel, has been searching diligently for something to post and he found an old letter that Justin had written to Vivianna and sent that to me. When I read it, I knew that I had to share it.


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Hey Vic,    I found this old letter that Justin had written to Vivianna when you were like four months along. Thought I’d send it to you for Vivianna Week. I’m still writing my post for you. I changed your name so that it said Daddy Vic rather than Mommy Vee-Vic, because you know that Justin used to call you Vic, but the letter was going into Vivianna’s baby book and he wrote it so that it would be understandable to her and your birth family. But that’s the only thing I changed besides the pronouns. Love you, sexy man. James says hi.-A-

Dear Vivianna,
                I still remember the day that James, Angel and I got the phone call that your Daddy Vic was pregnant with you. We were shocked because your Daddy Vic has never been anything more than this self-assured, extremely vulnerable, more man than woman, in control person from the moment that we met as freshmen in high school, so the thought that he was pregnant was a shock to us. Because he seemed to have absolutely no control over anything (remind me to tell you about him talking about the morning sickness and tiredness. Your Daddy Vic is a way bigger drama queen than me). But Vivi, your daddy is happy that you are on your way. I’ve never seen him so happy. We’ve all gotten into the Vivi Spirit and gone crazy buying things for you. I’ve just bought you the cutest “baby diva” outfit. All in pink. Your Daddy Vic will probably be annoyed because he hates the color pink, but don’t worry, I’ll make sure that you wear it whenever you want to. You’re out perfect little girl. You are our miracle baby. A bunch of gay men are excited to have you as the baby that we all are going to share.                I don’t know who is more excited though, your Daddy Christopher or me, because no matter what your Daddy Vic says, you are my baby. You are the child that he and I created back when we were sophomores in high school. We’d both always wanted children and had agreed to have children together. You are the reality of that dream, my sweet Vivianna. Because your Daddy Vic may be engaged to your Daddy Christopher, but he’s my soulmate. Always was and always will be.                So you keep growing in there and we’ll see you soon, sweet Vivianna. And you’ll know who I am when you see me, I’ll be the gorgeous man holding you welcoming you to the world and telling you that I love you.Love Always and Forever,JustinYour Uncle Daddy Justin Thomison







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Today's Guest Post for Vivianna Week comes from author  Cherie Noel , author of Tian's Hero, and my adopted big sis. Here's  your WARNING: This post is going to make you cry. It made me cry. So I hope you have tissue handy.
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On the day that I was born, my twin brother died. There are all sorts of family stories about the hows and whys of the event, but if we cut right to brass tacks, the facts are easily understood. On March 11th of 1969 at St. Mary’s Hospital, in West Palm Beach, Florida, I was born.
*don’t ask me how this works either, but that date of birth makes me thirty-six… and holding*  
I was born sometime around two am, and my very white mother (half English, half Scottish) and very NOT white father (Seminole, Black, Hispanic, Chinese, and some other kinda White that nobody can ever remember) were fighting two very different battles. George was fighting with the doctor and his nurses to withhold knowledge of my brother’s birth from my mother. The little boy had been born dead, and there was no way George wanted his beautiful white wife to know. She had been terribly, powerfully sad, and he thought this might be the final thing that pushed her beyond what she could bear.George loved his statuesque Northern beauty, and he’d fight hell itself to keep her in his arms. She would never, ever leave him, never, not unless he put her in the ground himself, and damn sure not by her own hand. George worked for a sizeable Palm Beach County furniture store, and he rated as their best salesman hands down. George consistently out-sold every other employee, white, black—the other men claimed that George could sell an ice-box to an Eskimo, and it was true. Within a few hours his silver tongue convinced the doctor and his main nurse to falsify the birth as two separate events, one live birth and one still birth. The records were filed separately, and for eleven years, no one but the three of them would know that Nancy had given birth to two children that day.Nancy’s fight was more immediate. She was fighting for her life. When her son was born, something tore inside and she started to bleed heavily. The boy had hung on his umbilical cord as he passed through the birth canal, and they’d been unable to slow the birth or shove him back and free him because… because of me. I was there and pushing to get out and the doctor and the nurse got busy saving me after they realized my brother didn’t survive the transition to the outer world.Nancy started to hemorrhage, and once I was out there was  no longer anything  blocking the way, nothing holding pressure on the place where something had torn… her vitals dropped, and the doctor, in desperation shoved his hand and half his forearm up into her to apply pressure from both inside and out.As horrific sounding as that may be, it saved her life.Nancy did not regain consciousness for nearly a full day.By then George had taken care of all the messy details of the tragedy he feared would steal his highly prized wife from him.
****Eleven years later he finally confessed what he’d done. Strangely, I was neither shocked nor appalled. The knowledge that I’d had a twin settled something in me, made sense of the hollowness that had echoed through all the days of my young life. I accepted the new knowledge, and moved on.
****Last Fall in New Orleans I met an extraordinary man. He writes under the name Vicktor Alexander and I’ve adopted him into my home and heart as the brother I should have always had at my side. Vicktor walks a tragically dark path through this world, and does so with enormous bravery. He laughs in the face of danger—
*realio, trulio, and it makes me want to smack the shite out of him and tell him he damn well better start learning to keep himself safe, by Golly*
—and nearly stops my heart with the sheer wonder of watching him grow into the man he was always meant to be and only kept from though a complicated tangle of bigotry, fear and inadequate support. Vicktor lives steeped in the love of his Rainbow Family now, with his fiercely protective Nieceling ever-ready to take up arms in his defense. He laughs and plays silly Egg-plant(?) games with us when someone in the family need that sort of goofy fun. He writes stories of such immediacy and pull they draw readers in by the droves. And he bleeds.He bleeds in silent rivers of pain all the atrocities committed upon his person in the years before he found his way to his Rainbow Family. He strides forward, ever forward… but not tirelessly. Vicktor has been through the wars. He’s been told and taught and forced to believe that the ills that befall those he loves are all of his making. That if he were better or stronger or perhaps more pure of heart he could save everyone.And so it hurts him badly when a loved one dies.Like Vivianna.Like Christopher.Like Justin and Mores and Joel…The list keeps going on and on and…
So this week is a celebration. Love transcends the flimsy walls of death, you know, and often, we fill the empty and broken parts of our lives in the most unexpected ways.Vivianna may no longer be here with us in the flesh, but the love Vic feels for her is pure and true and makes the world at large a brighter and more beautiful place. And the love that his Neiceling and I feel for him brightens our little corner of the world. We hold onto the belief that one day we will all be together, laughing and loving and playing silly Eggplant games and romping and… eh, it’s all good.Well, not all good, but all full of love. And full of hope.I lost a brother once.My mother lost a son.But the world is twisty and strange, and I found another brother. I found a niece I never knew I had. My daughter found an uncle and a cousin and today I am celebrating because there is still beauty and joy in the midst of the turmoil of the world. I am celebrating because love is never wasted and not even death destroys it.Please, come and celebrate with me.