Tragically, she couldn't cope with her feelings and left for a better place with GOD, taking her daughter with her.
So here are her writings ( I'm not sure of the order and I never met her guy, the father of her daughter ) I just know that I owe it to Joe, his daughter, and his granddaughter. First a writing about her Black Dodge Stealth with the VAMPRSS plates.
Four years of torture, four years of shame, four years of hating the car I drove in. There is one person who knows what I mean, my best friend, Anita also drove a minivan. She whined and cried and bitterly complained until her parents gave in and she got her way. She got a Camaro. It looks pretty cool. Now what can I do to get a real car too? I bitched and bitched until my dad got the hint. Now the search was on. Which car would I pick? I found that ideally I would like a '91 Firebird Formula with T-Tops, black and a stick shift. But I couldn't find one in decent condition. I had to make another choice - this wasn't easy.
There were Eclipses and Talons and 3000 GTs. Or how about a Sunfire? No, it had to be sporty. So I searched some more and found the one ---
a beautiful Dodge Stealth. Damn, it's gonna be fun!
There were two conditions that had to be met: it had to be black and be driven by a stick. There weren't many Stealths on the market these days and the weeks passed by. How much more could I take? I was about to give up and suffer a red paint jobon either a 3000 GT or Stealth, but God please let me get the car that I want. And the very next day it was in the Classifieds. A black '92 Stealth with a manual transmission. Thank you God for granting my wish. The banks were closed so I had to wait till Monday for my car to be bought and parked in the driveway. Then I still had to wait another day until we got insurance and the license plates. This was the worst part because I wanted to be special and unique. And after much deliberation I found the perfect word to define my car, to give it personality and express my own individuality. You are already familiar with this word because it's the title of this poem. Were you expecting something else?
Ask me what it means and I'll just say "I bite." --MK
(Now for the more serious writings.)
I don't really know how we ended up together. Neither do you.
But that doesn't matter, not really.
The point is- we had some fun, f___d around, and took things too far.
I made assumptions that were based on things I wanted, things I needed, things that weren't really there.
I caused you problems that you didn't need. And you dealt with them accordingly- without me.
I took it hard but how could I not? What I saw was a mirage that I recognized too late.
And now I know that I was wrong- and you were right. How often do you get to hear that?
I've recognized and acknowledged my mistakes. I know exactly what they are. Every last one.
I would say out loud what each one is, but I would be embarrassed beyond words. Don't you say anything either.
I've recognized my faults. Thank God I'm not so blind as to not see them. And with my luck I will learn from them.
So, in essence, I must thank you for my experiences, whether they were good or bad. Please accept my thanks. Because of you I have grown. --- MK
Everything We Cannot Say
You don't know what I'm thinking. You will never know what I'm thinking unless I tell you.
And I'm not much of a conversationalist. I'm the silent type, like you. But I do know that I want to talk. It's just difficult to open up. Especially to you. But there are things you need to know.
To you, I'm impenetrable, a fortress. But there is a way in. You need the time and the patience and the will. You need to be the tiny underground stream that erodes my foundations. You need to be the tide that swallows the earth from under me until I crumble into the sea.
Simply, you must be persistent. And I may let you in one day.
But when will that day come to pass? That I do not know. There are so many things that we need to discuss. It's just that somehow we don't have the courage to speak to one another.
Our true feelings we keep hidden. Everytime I see you I want to talk to you, but I just can't take the jump. The sea is so far below and the tide will crush me against the base of the cliff.
I Could Have Told You
A room without windows keeps us in a perpetual black. The silence has made me numb - I can't feel my body, my self, and in my head I try to run, but, my thoughts trip over each other. Is it?...Did it?...Am I...
And I could have told you but I didn't.
With every passing day I grew more certain. Should I say something? But what if I was wrong?
Then you gave me that line. And I just disappeared, the way that I do.
But I should have told you... and I didn't.
Occasionally our paths would cross but I pretended that you didn't exist. We met up again at a pool party. It was the day before my 20th birthday. I was sitting vacantly. "Too good to play with us?" I wanted to slap you.
And I could have told you then,too... But I didn't.
That was back in August, now it's October. I told Jim and Linda, then Anita. Anita's my best friend. About time she knew. For once I got to shock her.
We all went out to dinner that night. They all said that whatever I decided, everything would turn out all right.
And I should have called and told you... But I couldn't.
I knew you worked with Jim. And we both know he couldn't keep a secret. He would have told you something by now. So, each day I waited, dreading, hovering around the phone. Whenever it rang, I would be the first to answer.
And I should have told you at the beginning... But I hadn't.
Finally I heard your voice on the other end. "Jim said I should call you."
"Yeah." Pregnant pause. " I take it, he could only mean one thing." "Yeah. There's only one thing it could be." "Do you want me to come over today?" "No, not today. Thursday. My parents are gone."
And now you know.
I thought that you were a good guy.
When you first found out you said that it was good seeing me again and touched my arm, but I didn't believe you. How could I?
Waiting in line at the haunted house you rubbed your hand up and down my back. What were you trying to say?
Jim and Linda told me that you wanted to get back together. When I first heard this I was naively thrilled, but soon had my doubts. Why would you want this?
You're only second-guessing yourself because, now that I'm pregnant, you want to do the 'right thing'. Because you are a good guy. But are you, really?
When you saw her for the first time at the ultrasound, you didn't say a word, even when I asked you what you thought. Your silence keeps me on edge. Why won't you tell me what you're thinking?
You did caress my arm, though, then, but that doesn't give me any insight into you. I need to hear your words, your thoughts, because they are important to me. Can't you understand that?
When I signed up for the birthing classes I wanted you to come with me- that's why I asked you to. Out of the five classes, you only came to three. You always have some kind of excuse whenever I ask something of you. And I really don't think I ask too much. Are you only thinking of yourself?
The killer was your birthday. You said you couldn't come because your friends where throwing you a party. The truth was, you preferred getting drunk to spending time with your baby and me. That was the choice you made. Did you know, I cried all day?
After another birthing class you kissed me on top of my head. One day I'm nothing to you and another day I seem important to you. Make up your mind. Which is it?
A dinner with our parents, as we are walking to our table, you put your hand on the small of my back. I love your touch, that's true, I just don't know what you want. Why won't you tell me?
The day your daughter was born I couldn't tell if you were excited. The moment she was born you hugged me. No other reactions from you. What was going through your head that day?
After Sydney was born you never bought her a thing. Not a single toy or outfit. Anything would have been fine because it would have been from you. You bought her stuff for Christmas, but that's mandatory - it doesn't count. What exactly is she worth to you?
You come to see her usually twice a week and I'm proud of that, even though it's only three to four hours a week total. And after all this time, you could have, just once, come to see her a third time in a week, just because you 'wanted to'. But did you?
You're not a bad guy, but you're not really a good guy, either. ---MK
Logically, I knew that I wouldn't look like I did before but still I expected to be able to wear all my old clothes just the next day. And still I knew , I had to try, so I pulled out my jeans, took a deep breath, and sucked in my gut, but they just refused to go past my hips.
Every so often, after that, I'd try on those jeans until they fit, but still I wasn't satisfied until I could zip the zipper all the way up my favorite pants.
Now it's been a while since I've tried to squeeze my ass into these pants, until tonight, before this class - I gave it one more shot. At last, at last, after seven months, I look like I did before and one boy's hide is saved from a seroius whooping. -- MK
Think of a moment. A moment of pain. Of pain in its physical state.
A broken arm, a broken leg. A papercut, skinned knees. A stomachache, a dog bite.
How intense was this pain? How long did it last? How long did it take for you to feel whole again? Do you really remember the pain afterwards?
As time goes by, feel the memory of this pain fade away. Or has it already dissipated?
Think of a moment. A moment of pain. Of pain in its emotional state.
A broken promise, a broken dream. A hateful word, humiliation. A mean bully, unreturned love.
How intense is the pain? Does it ever end? Will you ever feel whole again? Will you ever forget the pain?
As time goes by, feel the memory of this pain reach clarity. Can you feel it hone its edge? --MK
Every Little Touch
When you touched my arm in the parking lot of Veteran's Acres. When you rubbed my back waiting in line at the haunted house. When you stroked my arm during the ultrasound. When you touched your palm to my lower back at dinner with our parents. When you laid your hand on my leg during birthing class. When you kissed the top of my head one night after a birthing class. When you hugged me the moment your daughter was born.
I remember every little touch--- And I want more. -- MK
Every touch of yours I remember and I keep them tucked away safely in my head. They are tucked away in a velvet pouch like so many precious jewels. And these precious jewels of mine (of yours) glisten in my heart. I have looked at every facet of these stones but nothing is clear to me.
Sometimes I hope a tiny spark, ignited by these sharp-edged stony jewels. Does my image somewhere in your head (your heart) exist? --MK
I'm sorry for the things I've said, for the things I've done. I've made lots of mistakes in my life and I know I'll make plenty more. I just made too many mistakes with you.
So you see. I'm sorry.
For my naivete, for my ignorance, for my inexperience, for my childishness, for my assumptions, for my crudeness, for my meanness, for my insecurities, for my selfishness, for my thoughtlessness.
But mostly, I'm sorry that you ever met me. --MK
When I first met this girl a few years ago, she was already full of HATE for the father of her child. In just a few short years she went from total undying LOVE to total HATE just because her and her daughter could not get him to get them just a little LOVE.
Now isn't it a tragedy that a girl can have so much LOVE for a guy and only ask for a little LOVE in return, and not get any? How many of us today go through the same thing, whether we are a girl or a guy, a man or a woman? LOVE, just give a little !!!
Maggie and Sydney "REST IN PEACE."
Joe, I love you and your wife and I hope your sorrow dissipates over time. I still have Sydney's drawing, she made for me, on my refrigerator