PLEASE SHARE THIS!
I thank you in advance.
I am using my voice to help victims of cyberstalking...
you all can be an extension of that voice.
THE INTERNET HAS OUTPACED THE LAW.
Don't we each have a right to live our only "dash" in peace?
Many of you know that to ensure my safety a judge had issued a Permanent Protective Order, after he examined evidence in a day-long hearing, against this man, Matthew Chan of Columbus, GA. Mr. Chan appealed the judge's order and it went to the GA Supreme Court...who made the decision last week to reverse the judge's order.
Below are a FEW examples of (the thousands) of his posts that caused me to seek protection.
Many of his posts were titled: "An Open Letter to Linda Ellis" or began with "Hi Linda." Obviously directed to me.
He threatened that he knew of people who “want to put you in the ground."
"She won't understand anything but bruce force."
"If anyone knows how I operate, this is no bluff."
"It may be too late after a certain threshold is crossed."
"I won't elaborate on what I might be capable of and I don't ever want anyone to push me too far."
He claimed my family and friends would be “collateral” damage to what he would be doing to me.
He encouraged and participated in the posting on his site of "The Hearse Song" addressed to me, by name. The post was titled: "WE ARE COMING AFTER YOU!" and it contained the lyrics: "You will be the next to die."
He said he was a cult leader: “You should realize that creating and managing an online cult is actually more challenging than one when you physically meet and interact with my followers. My dazzling, hypnotic, persuasive, and entrancing words and prose are somewhat masterful I must confess. I can convince the most intelligent, self-determined, and self-motivated person to blindly follow any public suggestion I might make.”
“I am absolutely getting payback for the time and energy you have caused.”
“I could even find your house to see what it looks like and where you live…definitely would get some video footage of your house…I could be a one man paparazzi.”
“I could probably go digging through public records to see if you have any traffic infractions, see how many times you have been married and divorced.”
“Pull up your real estate deeds, mortgages, and any other interesting documents. I would want to see how big your house is, how much its worth, how much property taxes you pay, and any other properties you might own. I bet you live in the **** **** area. I love that area.”
“Believe me when I tell you I have a LOT on you.”
“Just so you know, my patience is fairly low. It wouldn’t take much to push me over the edge on this.”
Here is my stalker story: http://online.flipbuilder.com/qodf/ykku/
I was talking the other day with a good friend whose mother had left this earth. She was a woman I knew and admired greatly. As the conversation advanced and we shared memories of Mary, I could sense my whole attitude beginning to change. I was suddenly donning a smile. I was feeling a genuine warmth surrounding me. It was as though my entire soul had been somehow swaddled in a soft blanket. I was picturing myself walking toward Mary and I could clearly picture her smile emanating joy, the same way it did every single time we had met. It was a smile one could always depend on to lift their spirits and brighten their day.
Our conversation soon became filled with stories about how Mary helped the homeless, the hungry and those in need. Her daughter recalled the times she and her family members stepped in to help "mama" if, due to her health she was unable to fulfill her charitable tasks. A slight woman, Mary would drive to sections of town reserved for only those who have a specific purpose for traveling there, and she always had a specific purpose: to help.
I began to think of the legacy Mary left for her family and those who knew, respected and loved her. It is not a legacy that can be measured in dollars; it is far more valuable. In fact, to this day, you could offer her children or her husband a million dollars for the legacy of love that Mary left each of them and I assure you they would not trade what she left in their hearts and lives for what they could put in the bank. There's an old saying: "Measure wealth not by what you have, but by what you have and would not sell." Each of them is therefore, a millionaire.
I began to think of my own life's legacy and what I needed to change to bequeath upon my loved ones the same priceless gift of being More Than a Memory in their hearts and lives. I want them to feel the same aura, the same warmth when they speak of me; I want them to subconsciously wear a smile when my image appears in their mind. Mary's light will continue to shine as we endeavor to follow the path her footsteps left here on earth, and strive to live a life that will be More Than a Memory.
Insert the name, title of your own lost loved one and feel the words of this poem...
by Linda Ellis, Copyright 2014
Dear Dad, it's been some time now
since you left this earthly place,
yet I hear echoes of your voice
and can almost see your face.
Life and death are so surreal;
opponents joined at the seams
until the journey crosses over
from reality to dreams.
Though I know your soul has traveled
to a supreme and wondrous realm,
some days I feel aboard a ship
with no one at the helm.
Afloat with no land visible
upon an endless sea...
an ocean filled with memories
of what was you and me.
What separates us now is naught
but uncertain space and air
with only one way certain
to get from here to there.
When my voyage has ended;
feeling no longer bereft
we will be together once again
as if you'd never left.
Death, demise, passing, decease, bereavement… no matter how you choose to label it, it hurts like hell. In 1996, I penned an inspirational poem titled, “The Dash” about that little line on a headstone between the dates of birth and death – that little dash that ultimately represents every step, every breath, we take during our time here on earth. Millions have since found solace in the words of that poem because the simple, honest lyrics sink into the reader’s heart, often creating an emotional epiphany. A bereaving heart is like to a dried sponge – expended and hardened, waiting for something that can be absorbed like water to soften the aching, the longing, the agony. I am grateful the words of The Dash have offered such relief to so many.
When I wrote the poem almost 20 years ago, I didn’t “do” death. As an adult, I had purposely not attended any funeral services, even for my own grandparents. I attribute this evasion to an event from my childhood when I was unwillingly brought to the service of my best friend’s little sister, who died unexpectedly in her sleep after a fall in the playground earlier that day. Though I was just a young child, I remember intently watching the mother’s face and feeling her anguish throughout my own soul. Her eyes, that once held the essence of laughter and sunshine to me, were now sullen, red and angry. The beautiful woman I’d known all my life, who had welcomed me into her home as one of her own daughters, now represented a frightening image of fear and pain, an image I never wanted to see again.
However, in the years since creating The Dash poem, I have subconsciously become strangely familiar with loss and its subsequent inevitable pain. I’ve read that if you are preoccupied with your own fears, they can become part of your reality. I believe that writing The Dash, unbeknownst to me, slowly provided my own curative path that would calm my uncertainties allowing me to learn, accept and live with the reality of what comes “after the dash” -- when someone who has been a significant part of your life is no longer there. Albert Einstein wrote: “Coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous.” Since writing The Dash poem I’ve received thousands of stories of uncanny events where The Dash poem has reached people when they needed it the most. The stories and incidents shared with me through phone calls and email from people around the world must be considered more than “coincidence,” and happenstance is not an acceptable description either.
I began to feel an intense and unmistakable obligation to use my ability to find and fit together combinations of words to help those who were experiencing that precise emptiness, that ambiguous sense of functioning with a now incomplete soul, the feeling of a jigsaw puzzle missing a corner. I’ve read the cliché: “Good Mourning” often in bereavement support blogs, but to me, it is an oxymoron. I don’t believe there can be such a thing. Time is the only proven healer, but I’ve learned that the right words at the right time can alleviate, or at least make some remote sense of, this unique pain we are forced to endure through no fault of our own. To know others have suffered and survived grief offers an intangible salve that can soothe our sorrow.
It is truly remarkable how much death clarifies the preciousness of this gift of life. I’ve often said that without tears, why would we enjoy laughter? Without rain, the sunshine would become monotonous. Without sickness, it would mean naught to feel healthy every day. And…without death, infinite life would be unworthy of the reverence this ephemeral life deserves.
Death: To some it is feared; to some it is despised; to some it is disregarded; to some it offers a livelihood. But for all, it is an inevitable conclusion to our dash to be respected and expected. Whatever you believe -- whether you feel a soul ascends or descends when a heart ceases to beat, is re-embodied into something or someone, or eventually returns to being a part of everything having completed its contribution to the cycle, I hope you will find hope and healing in the words I’ve shared within these poems that follow...
Live Your Dash!