and has taken her home after four years of serious illness.
My Aunt, my late Dad’s youngest sister, passed away at 81.
Sister Sebastiana grew up as the youngest of eight children on a farm with a connected restaurant. Like her siblings, she had to start helping in her parent’s businesses quite early.
When she was 24 years old, she decided to dedicate her life to God. After her novitiate, she first became a kindergarten teacher and later decided to go back to her congregation when they called her for help.
She always beamed and laughed when she told stories from her kindergarten children. Sister Sebastiana had hearty, infectious laughter and shared her youngest brother’s, my Dad’s, humor. Maybe that’s one of the reasons why I liked her so much.
When she got ill four years ago, she gathered courage and continued her life with God and continued her work. But the illness was stronger than her strength of life. Very calmly, Sister Sebastiana accepted her diagnosis and faced death with admirable faith in God. She carried the suffering of her illness with impressive patience and lost the fight yesterday when she closed her eyes forever.
Our entire family is going to miss her terribly. She was always a rock in the ocean of our lives. But we know she is with her Creator now and, as heavy as my heart is, I know her soul is with God.
“There are two kinds of people who sit around all day thinking about killing people…mystery writers and serial killers. I’m the kind that pays better.”
― Richard Castle ―
I’m not a mystery writer, and I keep hoping not too many of my characters in my book will end up dead. Let’s say, the one or other tragic death is barely to avoid, but I’m working on it. Now, by thinking about it: as a fantasy writer I do have the chance to kill as many of the bad guys as I want; does that count too?
Above I purposely used the term “too many of MY characters…”. When I started to write my series I knew one main character. The more I worked on this woman, and with her, the more I got a liking of her. She is someone special. At first, I didn’t know exactly where she came from and who she is. By now I know her inside and out, and her complexity, stubbornness and unique good heart made me love her like a very, very good friend.
As I continued writing more and more characters showed up. I had the chance to work with them as well, develop them, know them better with each book and each one of them grew on me. I’m currently working on book seven and eight in the series, and unfortunately, I know one of the characters I love so much will have to die. I knew it two books ago already, but I tried to ‘sneak’ around it, well knowing that I’m trying to defer the inevitable death of one of my favorite characters. The question isn’t “who needs to die?” The question now is: “How is this character going to die?”
What am I supposed to do? Yes, of course, I can write about an unthinkable ferocity to kill my character. Would this be a nice thing to do to one of my favorites? Of course not. But I’m a writer, and I’m afraid death isn’t a nice and pretty issue, to begin with. I guess, the main thing at this moment will be that it matches the book and fits the story! In a moment like this I’m not supposed to be the protector of my characters but the writer who paints a story with words; a writer who works with the characters, the situations, the opponents, the protagonists and antagonists she created!
Does that make me feel any better? I’m afraid not. It’s heartbreaking to even think of my character gone. No matter how I’m going to manage it – wait… I should say, how the antagonist is going to kill my character, I’ll be heartbroken. I had so many plans with this particular character, and that’s how it will end? The answer is yes. Unfortunately, that’s how it is going to end. I have a pretty good idea of how the killing will happen.
But there is one thought I can barely get right of. It won’t be the cruelness of the antagonist, the torture, the pain, the sweat and blood, the hope to be saved in the last minutes; it won’t be the eerie laughter of the opponent, the sharply metal forged blade that will turn my character’s death into a horrible murder. No matter how horrifying and inhuman I create the antagonist, how cruel, how sadistic and incredibly gruesome it will be, the murderer of my character is going to be me.
Am I going to drown in guilt, cry in my pillow and drink my tears? We shouldn’t get overly dramatic here. I’m a writer, not a ten-year-old girl who accidentally broke her Barbie doll. I create worlds, existences, characters, protagonists, and antagonists, but most of all, I create gripping and exciting stories. And once in a while death goes with it.
I think that’s the only parallel from my stories to real life: death belongs to life. And sometimes, if we don’t get ‘rid’ of old stuff, how can we make room for something new?
It took me a while to decide which one of my characters will have to go. But I won’t sink into depression. I know, there’s room now for someone new.
How do you handle the killing of one of your characters? Do you feel like you lost someone you know? Or do you even belong to those who create the antagonist as your ex-partner and feel somehow a slight malicious glee to do what you couldn’t when you were still angry in real life? Let me hear your thoughts, I’m curious.
September 11, 2001, the day of the worst terrorist attacks the U.S. had to face in its history. Annually we remember the victims and their families; we keep them in our thoughts and prayers.
During the September 11 attacks in 2001, 2,996 people were killed and more than 6,000 others wounded. These immediate deaths included 265 on the four planes (including the 19 terrorists), 2,606 in the World Trade Center and the surrounding area, and 125 at the Pentagon. (Source: Wikipedia)
I think it’s important we don’t forget this day, the ones who suffered, the ones who had to fight with the loss, with despair, and with illness. It was a dark day – and still: ‘UNITED WE STAND.’ Americans proudly helped, supported, comforted and still remember. It is important we never forget how to STAND UNITED!
Today, September 11, 2017, I would like to remember the ones who helped, the ones who were there, risking their lives for others, and in far too many cases, paid the highest price in the line of duty!
Many more, exposed to toxic dust and other hazards, have succumbed to illnesses related to their rescue and recovery efforts over the years. On Thursday, September 7, 2017, the FDNY added 32 more names to the World Trade Center Memorial Wall.
Until this day I’m very much convinced that this is probably the rhythmically best poem I ever wrote, and even though, its theme is heartbreak and sadness, I’m still proud of it. That’s why I submitted this poem to the Poetry Festival Page and had it read by a professional actor.
Today I was informed that the poetry reading had been published on their Website. I immediately clicked the link and found it, together with some information about myself.
“Let Your Soul Fry Free To Heaven” is performed by actress Becky Shrimpton and she does a fabulous job. Thank you very much, Becky! And thank you to “Wildsound Fest” who published it on their YouTube channel.
This might be a little unusual, but it is a special – and very sad situation. Kawanee Hamilton, owner of “Kawanee’s Korner”, blogger and writer, has unexpectedly lost her husband when he was on a business trip in China. It took weeks until she knew when she would get his remains.
I won’t go into any more details. This isn’t supposed to be some sensational story. But I’m feeling bad for Kawanee. She’s devastated, she doesn’t know where to go from here, what to do and what will come next.
June 11 is the day of my Dad’s passing, 4 days before his birthday with the biggest garden party he had ever organized together with Mom.
My Dad died in a work accident. And no, I won’t describe how it happened nor what happened. After all that time the memory is still painful.
But remembering my Dad, his incomparable humor, his thrilling laughter, his wisdom and that we sometimes did not even need to talk but only look at each other knowing very well what the other one was thinking… that’s a memory I consider a gift.
My father was the best Dad I could have. And I am blessed to be his daughter.
And that is why I decided today to post this little blog post – and celebrate his life and what he gave me: a wonderful childhood, protection, wisdom, advice and some of his humor. Thank you Dad. I love you.
When I was young I used to love
to sit upon your knee.
I’d gaze into your loving eyes
as your arms enfolded me.
Your gentle kiss would stir
the golden tendrils of my hair,
as whispered sentiments of love
we quietly would share.
We’d read a book together,
the same time after time.
I knew all of the words by heart,
you didn’t seem to mind.
When darkness fell you tucked me in
and gently kissed my cheek.
You’d wish upon a shooting star
the Lord my soul to keep.
The years have passed so quickly,
death parted you from me.
I hope you know how much it meant
when I sat upon your knee.
Gazing to the heavens,
as I quietly reminisce,
I’d give a million of those stars
to feel your gentle kiss.
I’d give all my tomorrows
to hear you read to me,
and remember those quiet moments
when I sat upon your knee.