End of a Marriage

I saw this on another website today and it touched me deeply. I don't know who wrote it. The only thing I could find as to the author was this: Credits: Prince (NBBC)

End of a Marriage

When I got home that night as my wife served dinner, I held her hand and said, "I've got something to tell you." She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes. Suddenly I didn't know how to open my mouth, but I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce.

I raised the topic calmly. She didn't seem to be annoyed by my words. Instead, she asked me softly, "Why?"

I avoided her question. This made her angry. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, "You are not a man!"

That night, we didn't talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage, but I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer. She had lost my heart and I have given it to Jane. I didn't love her anymore. I just pitied her.

With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company. She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. The woman who had spent ten years of her life with me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for her wasted time, resources, and energy but I could not take back what I had said because I loved Jane so dearly.

Finally, she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me, her crying was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer now.

The next day, I came home very late and found her writing something at the desk. I didn't have supper but went straight to bed and fell asleep very fast because I was tired after an eventful day with Jane. When I woke up, she was still there at the desk writing. I just did not care so I turned over and went to asleep again.

In the morning, she presented her divorce conditions. She didn't want anything from me. What she asked for was one month’s notice before the divorce. She requested that during that one month, we would both struggle to live as normal a life as possible. Her reasons were simple. Our young son had exams in a month’s time and she didn't want to disrupt him with our broken marriage.

This was agreeable to me. But she said something more. She asked if I remembered how I had carried her into our bedroom on our wedding day. I told her I did. She requested that every day for the month’s duration, I am to carry her OUT of our bedroom every morning and to the front door. I thought she must be going crazy! But to make our last days together bearable, I accepted her odd request.

When I got to work, I told Jane about my wife’s divorce conditions. She laughed loudly and said it was absurd. "No matter what tricks she tries, she has to face the divorce." She said scornfully.

My wife and I hadn't had any bodily contact since I told her I wanted the divorce, so when I carried her out on the first day, we both felt clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, "Daddy is holding mommy in his arms!" His words brought me a sense of pain.

From the bedroom to the living room, then to the door, I walked with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly, "Don’t tell our son about the divorce." I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for the bus to work, while I drove alone to the office.

On the second day, both of us acted more easily. She leaned into my chest and I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn't looked at this woman carefully for a long time. I realized she was not young any more. There were fine wrinkles on her face and her hair was graying! Our marriage had taken its toll on her. For a minute, I wondered what I had done to her.

On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman who had given ten years of her life to me. On the fifth and sixth days, I realized that our sense of intimacy seemed to be growing again. I didn't tell Jane about this. It became easier to carry her as the month slipped by. Perhaps the everyday workout was making me stronger.

She was choosing what to wear one morning. She tried on quite a few dresses but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed. "All my dresses have grown bigger." I suddenly realized that she had grown so thin. That was the reason why I could carry her more easily. Suddenly it hit me. She had buried so much pain and bitterness in her heart. Subconsciously, I reached out and touched her head.

Our son came in at that moment and said, "Dad, it’s time to carry mom out." To him, seeing his father carry his mother out had become an essential part of his life. My wife gestured to our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change my mind at this last minute. I then held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the living room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly; it was just like our wedding day, but her much lighter weight made me sad.

On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. I held her tightly and said, "I hadn't noticed that our life lacked intimacy."

I drove to the office and jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind. I walked upstairs. Jane opened the door and I said to her, "I'm sorry, Jane, I don't want the divorce anymore.

She looked at me, astonished, and then she touched my forehead. "Do you have a fever?" She asked.

I brushed her hand off my head. "I am sorry, Jane," I said, "I won’t divorce her. My marriage was boring, probably because she and I didn't value the details of our lives, not because we didn't love each other anymore. Now I realize that since I carried her into my home on our wedding day, I am supposed to hold her until death do us part."

Jane seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a harsh slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked back downstairs and drove away in my car. At a floral shop along the way, I bought a bouquet of flowers for my wife. The salesgirl told me to write something on the card. I smiled and wrote, "I’ll carry you out every morning until death do us part."

That evening I arrived home, flowers in my hand, a smile on my face, and ran upstairs, only to find my wife in the bed, dead. I later found out she had been fighting cancer for months and I had been so busy with Jane I didn't even notice. She knew she would die soon and she wanted to save me from a negative reaction from our son, just in case we went through with the divorce. At least in the eyes of our son, I’m a loving husband.

The smallest details of our lives are what really matter in a relationship, not the house, car, property, or money in the bank. These create an environment conducive for happiness, but they cannot give happiness. So many couples give up, not realizing how close they were to success when they gave up.




"A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write." ~CJ Heck

The Doppelganger ...

Daddy and Mama

Robert and I moved to Florida in September 2012, from Pennsylvania, just a couple of months after my father passed away. 

I was very close to Daddy and this past couple of years has been a slow, but necessary, time of healing.

Loving it here in Florida has helped, and I often think of the many conversations I had with him about our possible move. Daddy was all for it and already planning to come down and stay for a week, or a month ("Or forever", he teased).

I miss him terribly, but I know in my heart that the move was good. Robert has been wonderful and my rock through it all.

The other day, I was puttering around town in our golf cart doing some errands and enjoying the beautiful weather.

 The honeysuckle was in full bloom along the streets, its sweet scent intoxicating, and I noticed my favorite trees, the crepe myrtles, were greening nicely everywhere, soon to wear their deep color flower bunches.

 Once, I even pulled over and parked in the grass so I could smell a huge flower on a magnolia tree. It was so peaceful and relaxing -- it really is paradise here and I'm continually amazed by the native plants and animals that are so different from those up north.

I wasn't in any particular hurry as I shopped for groceries, picked up a couple of things in the hardware store, and then headed to my last stop at CVS for vitamins. My mind was filled with thoughts of my new book and ways to market and publicize as I headed toward the checkout and got in the short line.

Suddenly, my world flip-flopped, taking my breath away. The man just in front of me in line was Daddy. How could that be? I asked myself in disbelief. But this man did have the same build, the same thinning hair, clothes, and he was sitting on a red motorized scooter like my father used because of his painful knees and ankle.

 When he slowly reached up to the counter to swipe his credit card in the machine, I also saw my father's hand. That's when tears filled my eyes. Could it somehow be …

Then he turned to look at the cashier and I could see his face. No, this was not Daddy. As much as I wanted it to be him, he was just a nice older gentleman on a red scooter making his purchase at the CVS drug store. I wiped my eyes with a tissue, took a deep breath, and struggled to regain my composure.

That's the way life works sometimes. Just when you least expect it, a sound, a song, a scent … or a nice elderly man on a red HoverRound scooter, will trigger a sweet memory.  It tugs at the heart, but it also brings a loved one close just one more time to help us heal.

I wonder, would he have been upset, had I asked him for a hug?

Anatomy of a Poet: The Story Behind

New Book

"There is a brokenness out of which comes the unbroken. There is a shatteredness out of which blooms the unshatterable. There is a sorrow beyond all grief, which leads to joy. And a fragility out of whose depths emerges strength. There is a hollow space too vast for words through which we pass with each loss, out of whose darkness we are sanctioned into being." ~ Bri Maya Tiwari

That quote astutely describes not only my life, but the poetry in my newest book, "Anatomy of a Poet" .

One of six children, I grew up in a small Ohio town and married my high school sweetheart at nineteen. A Vietnam War widow at twenty, I went on to marry and then divorce two times. 

I made a lot of choices, some good, some not so good, but as one of the poems in the book ["Choices"] ends, "...at least I made choices. How sad for those who merely hitchhike along, never daring to choose at all."

I have three beautiful daughters, nine grandsons, two granddaughters, and a wonderful partner, Robert Cosmar. I have finally learned that true happiness begins and ends with myself.

"Anatomy of a Poet" was written over a period of nearly forty years. The poetry is rich with memoir, humor, fiction, and at times, it is sensual in nature.

Read an Excerpt of "Anatomy of a Poet"

Buy at Amazon

Reviews:

"I find in myself with most poetry an impatience, "Oh for crying out loud, just say it" leading to a lassitude and eventual cerebral failure." Not so with this work, her raw emotions and sensuality had my attention. I believe this is the only poetry book that I ever finished. " ~Henry Le Nav


"I would recommend this book to all lovers of poetry and, especially, to all who think they are not."
~Mrs. C. I. Campbell


"Totally open and honestly expressed in a variety of poetic styles, each matched to her emotions of the moment. No cutesy innuendos here. A damn good and honest work." ~John David Lionel Brooke

"I found this book to be a "quick read" on the one hand and yet I keep going back and rereading parts of it ... and then rereading the whole section." ~MaryAnn

"In the pages of this book you will find powerful, thought provoking, sensual, and beautifully written poetry from the heart." ~Susan L. Parkins

"This is a beautiful and touching book of poetry, which has at it's heart a mature, loving, but still raw and passionate woman. Many of the poems, and to be honest my favorites, are about beautiful femininity engaging with men, often rugged. The touch of men on a woman's heart and body features heavily, but not excessively; it's not soft, vapid chick-lit. It's well-rounded, and the works also include verses on urban conditions -- but it's love that makes this book tick." ~Alistair Baillie

"One fine author and a magnificent lady. I highly recommend this book with its compilation of meaningful and thought provoking poetry." ~Tom C.

"This is my kind of poetry. Direct, beautifully expressed and without a hint of pretension." ~Allison Cassidy

"I love this book. The poetry is sensitive and touching." ~Joanne "Joni" Taylor

"Here we have a collection of poems by a woman who writes from the heart; "Anatomy of a Poet" may have been written by a children's book author, but it's poetry for grownups." ~Byron Edgington

"I just finished reading C.J.Heck's, book last night. I enjoyed it very much. She definitely has a way with words, that will make you laugh, cry, and feel things very deeply. I can tell that she writes from her heart and soul, and her words will definitely make a lasting impression." ~Rebecca Carden

"The reader is drawn into expertly crafted poetry and wonders if the Poet has experienced all she writes about. If not, CJ Heck has fooled everyone. Anatomy of a Poet peels back the outer skin of the reader and gets into the heart. I highly recommend this book." ~Karla Dorman

"A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write." ~CJ Heck

Lesson in a Glass of Water ..

How Heavy is Your Glass of Water?

A psychologist was teaching stress management to a large audience. As she walked around the room, she was holding a glass of water in front of her.

As she raised the glass high for everyone to see, they expected her to ask the "half empty, or half full", question. 

Instead, with a smile on her face, she inquired, "How heavy is this glass of water?"

The answers that were called out from the crowd ranged everywhere from 8 ounces to 20 ounces.

She replied, "The absolute weight really doesn't matter. So much depends on how long I hold it.

 If I hold it for a minute, it isn't a problem. If I hold it for an hour, I'll have a muscle cramp in my arm. But if I hold it for a day, my arm will feel numb, maybe even paralyzed.  In each case, the weight of the glass doesn't change, but the longer I hold it, the heavier it becomes."

She continued, "The stresses and worries in life are just like this glass of water. Think about them for a little while and nothing happens. Think about them a bit longer, and they begin to hurt. And, if you think about them all day long, you will feel paralyzed and incapable of doing anything about them at all."

It's important that we remember to let go of our stresses and not carry our burdens through the evening and into the night. We have to remember to ... put the glass down.

~Author Unknown


"A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write." ~CJ Heck

Book: Anatomy of a Poet

You've probably been wondering where the heck I've been for the last couple of months, and for that, I do apologize.  I was working hard to get my first poetry book for adults finished.

Introducing:  Anatomy of a Poet:

Format:  Paperback and Kindle

Anatomy of a Poet - Poetry for Adults

About the Book

As Bri Maya Tiwari said,  "There is a brokenness out of which comes the unbroken; a shatteredness out of which blooms the unshatterable; a sorrow beyond all grief which leads to joy, and a fragility out of whose depths emerges strength. There is a hollow space too vast for words through which we pass with each loss, out of whose darkness we are sanctioned into being." 

That one quote astutely describes not only my life, but the poetry in Anatomy of a Poet.

One of six children, I grew up in a small Ohio town and married my high school sweetheart at nineteen. A Vietnam War widow at twenty, I went on to marry and then divorce two times.

I made a lot of choices, some good, some not so good, but as one of the poems in the book ends, "...at least I made choices. How sad for those who merely hitchhike along, never daring to choose at all." [from the poem, "Choices"]

Anatomy of a Poet was written over a period of forty years. The poetry is rich with memoir, humor, and at times is sensual in nature.

Poetry can be daunting and hard to understand, but it doesn't have to be. I feel a poet has an obligation to write in a way that everyone can understand. Poems should flow softly through a poet's words, their meanings easily touching the heart and mind of its reader. If a poem comes from the heart, it will reach other hearts.

Read a Preview of "Anatomy of a Poet"

Buy at Amazon

Book Introduction:

"Like a rose with many petals sharing its sweet aroma, this is how I see and feel about the love of my life, CJ Heck. She is my electric blue-eyed girl. 

She can be both a little girl, or a strong woman, whenever and wherever the situation calls for it. She is both sensuous and exciting, and soft and affectionate. 

Tragedy struck her life early with the death of her husband in Vietnam. This experience laid open the very core of her heart and soul and opened the channel to a well of compassion and sensitivity that waited deep within. Her pain was the fertilizer that helped her bloom as a writer.

CJ's poetry is not a surface observation, but a soulful interpretation of the events and people that inspired her. She writes both eloquently and simply of things that touch her heart, things she wants to share. She is gifted at painting a picture with words on the heart and imagination of others, thereby communicating not just an image, but a life experience. 

I feel very honored to have been asked to write this introduction and share my feelings about CJ Heck. She is the water for my soil, the sunlight for my petals and the nurturer of my growth. 

Sit back, open your heart and enjoy the journey as revealed through her words, images and emotions. You are blessed by this opportunity to know her in words, as I know her in life."  

~Robert S. Cosmar [Writer, Blogger, Astrologer, Author of four books]

Comments:

"This is my kind of poetry. Direct, beautifully expressed and without a hint of pretension." ~Allison Cassidy

"CJ is predominately viewed as a writer of works for children, but CJ now carries over her approach to more adult themes. In doing so, she presents a profound world that is deeply sad, incredibly humorous and sometimes very intimate." ~Joseph Daly

"CJ's writing ability is a testament to talent and passion. Her ability to craft words into emotion and movement is remarkable." ~Lexy Page (Owner/Freelance Photographer at GA Page Photography)

"CJ is a writer that comes through as a great communicator but you also have a strong feeling of friendship with her and her pen. She touches your heart in special ways. She makes you feel like you have lived this story." ~James McCraney (Owner, James McCraney Financial, LLC)

"I love learning new words, especially when they are explained with such diaphanous clarity. Whether she talks of love, children, life, or any other subject, CJ's words are always clear and harmonious. She makes us forget that easy to read is hard to write." ~Marc Mimouni (London, United Kingdom)

"CJ Heck is a very talented author. Her words are enlightening and charismatic to people of all ages. It is a privilege and honor to read her prolific pen." ~Janet Caldwell (Managing Editor, Inner Child Magazine


"A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write." ~CJ Heck

Letter From Heaven: by CJ Heck

Ours is not to question, but to accept that everything has a purpose, a reason, and we are to "go with the flow".

Angel Crying

About ten years ago,  a poem came through me, as though I wasn't writing it.  I've since learned it is called creative inspiration and it is my higher self writing through me.

The poem was from the point of view of a little girl in heaven looking down and speaking to her grieving parents.

At the time, I thought how strange and different the poem was.   It was not light and funny like what I normally wrote for children -- this one was very sad.  Nevertheless, I went ahead and put it in my first book.

It would be five years before I found out that there was a profound purpose for the poem.

I was hired to do a school visit several states away.  Seven schools would be brought by bus to a central school where I was to do five presentations per day for three days.

It was a wonderful time -- the teachers and children were really into the presentations, some classes even reciting the poetry right along with me.

About a week after I returned home, I received a phone call from the librarian at the central school.  She said one of the second graders had been killed in a car crash.  Her mother and little brother were still in the hospital, but were expected to be going home soon.

She said after the school visit, the little girl read the poem, "Letter From Heaven", to anyone who would listen, saying that the little girl in the poem was her -- she was going to be the angel.  I was speechless.  I thanked the librarian and asked if I could have their address to send a card to the family. 

A week later, I got another phone call from the librarian.  She had attended the service at the funeral home for the little girl and most of the town had come to show their support.  She wanted me to know that as each visitor arrived, they were given a pink sheet of paper printed with the poem and the story the little girl had told everyone -- that she was the little girl angel in the poem.

The little girl's parents called a couple of days later to ask my permission to have the poem etched beside an angel on their daughter's gravestone.

The experience was incredibly humbling. It touched me very deeply, all the way to my soul.

 

Letter From Heaven

(for Mackenzie)

Mommy, Daddy, how  I miss you

and I know you're missing me.

There are windows here in Heaven.

Every day I look and see

my toys all in the toy box

and my dolls up on the shelf.

I can't pull them in my wagon now

nor hold them to myself.

My little rocker's empty.

I know your arms feel empty, too.

I can see the sadness in your face,

Mommy, Daddy, I love you.

My music box is silent

but I don't have to hear it play.

Mommy, Daddy, it's not needed now.

Angels here sing every day.

Please don't worry that I'm lonely.

There are children everywhere.

We are all His little angels

and there's so much love up here.

Mommy, Daddy please don't cry for me.

Heaven's such a lovely place!

God says you did your very best

and your love shows in my face.

Mommy, Daddy when you need me

just look up and say a prayer.

I will see you through the windows

and I'll hear your voice up here.

A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write." ~CJ Heck

Morgan Freeman: Newtown Tragedy

An Angel Crying

Morgan Freeman's take on what happened in the Newtown Tragedy:

"You want to know, "Why?" This may sound cynical, but here is why. It's because of the way the media reports it. 

Flip on the news and watch how we treat the Batman theater shooter and the Oregon mall shooter -- like celebrities. Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris are household names, but do you know the name of one single victim of Columbine?

Disturbed people who would otherwise just off themselves in their basements see the news and they want to top it by doing something even worse, and going out in a memorable way. 

Why a grade school? Why children? Because he'll be remembered as a horrible monster, instead of a sad nobody.

CNN's article says that if the body count "holds up", this will rank as the second deadliest shooting behind Virginia Tech, as if statistics somehow make one shooting worse than another. Then they post a video interview of third-graders for all the details of what they saw and heard while the shootings were happening.

Fox News has plastered the killer's face on all their reports for hours. Are there any articles or news stories yet that focus on the victims and ignore the killer's identity? None that I've seen, because they don't sell. 

So congratulations, sensationalist media. You've just lit the fire for someone else out there to top this and knock off a day care center or a maternity ward next.

You can help by forgetting you ever read this man's name, and by remembering the name of at least one victim. You can help by donating to mental health research, instead of pointing to gun control as the problem. You can help by turning off the news."

Victoria Soto , teacher was 27.

Allison Wyatt was six.

Benjamin Wheeler was six.

Avielle Richman was six.

Jessica Rekos was six.

Caroline Previdi was six.

Noah Pozner was six.

Jack Pinto was six.

Emilie Parker was six.

Grace McDonnell was seven.

James Mattioli was five.

Jesse Lewis was six.

Chase Kowalski was seven.

Catherine Hubbard was six.

Madeleine Hsu was six.

Dylan Hockley was six.

Ana Marquez-Greene was six.

Josephine Gay was seven.

Olivia Engel was six.

Daniel Barden was seven.

Charlotte Bacon was six.

Rachel Davino was 29.

Mary Sherlach, the school psychologist, was 56.

Anne Marie Murphy was 52.

Lauren Rousseau, a teacher, was 30.

Dawn Hochsprung, the principal, was 47.



 "A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write." ~CJ Heck

A Lesson in Irony

A good friend sent me the following in an email this morning:

A Lesson in Irony . . .

Food Stamp Graph

The Food Stamp Program, administered by the U.S. Department of Agriculture, is proud to be distributing the greatest number of free meals and food stamps ever -- to 46 million people!

It Works for the Animals ...

Meanwhile, the National Park Service, administered by the U.S. Department of The Interior, asks us, "Please Do Not Feed the Animals."

Their stated reason for the policy is, 

"Because the animals will grow dependent upon handouts, and will not learn to take care of themselves."

This ends today's lesson ... kinda makes you wonder, doesn't it?

Rather than hand out food stamps and free meals, shouldn't the government help them find employment and/or educate them so they can earn and be independent? Would this not also give them a true sense of self worth? I'm sure you are familiar with a Biblical quote about GIVING them fish, or TEACHING them HOW to fish ... I feel the government is putting a Bandaid on the problem, instead of suturing a gaping wound ...

The same good friend who sent me this article, himself a Vietnam vet, wrote the following comment in a veteran's group on Facebook (and I quote):

"My feelings are that EVERYONE right out of high school ought to have to do 2 years of service for this country, whether it's in the military, the job corp or even the peace corp, with the government putting aside money for their education.

This breaks the apron strings back at home and, besides giving them skills in service, would give them a lasting sense of self worth. Then after their two years of service, they could go on to college if they wish, or they would be far better equipped to get a job. This gets them away from the helping hands at home and from gov't agencies..........just my 2 cents worth."

I think what he says is worth far more than a mere 2 cents, don't you?


"A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write." ~CJ Heck