You've Got to Feel to Heal

July 9, 2018

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You've got to feel to heal.

Life is tough, but so are you. Most of you come to my blog for style inspiration, whether it's in the realm of fashion, beauty, lifestyle... I aim to make each element beautiful and aesthetically pleasing. Maybe some of you come to see my boy, MaQ, as he is just as much a part of my blog as I am and he is truly the mascot of my business. But what I rarely discuss on here is my personal life and all the experiences that led me to here. Since I've had a lot of new readers on here as well as on other social media platforms, I thought today would be a great time to sort of -reintroduce myself. Hey, I'm Suz. I've lost both of my parents in my 20s. I'm completely estranged from the rest of the family, including my brother. Today marks exactly 6 years since my father unexpectedly passed away. Grab some tissues, this isn't going to be an easy read. Listen quietly or talk to me... I'm open either way.

My father, Caz, died from a massive coronary in 2012. The irony? The day he died was the day he finally was hired for a job after struggling for years trying to find work. The morning his sister drove him to the interview he had said he felt like he was finally at peace and one with God. He literally collapsed in the hallway after shaking hands with the woman who just hired him. When my brother called to tell me the news that our father had passed, I thought it was a sick joke. Truly in a state of shock, I was numb until getting on the plane the next day with my fiancé at the time (now husband). I sobbed the entire flight home, knowing I would have no time to shed any tears while handling my family affairs once we landed. My family was unsupportive and cruel. Since my father died, not one member of my family has even called to check in on me. I'm dead to them, therefore, they are dead to me. One of his sisters refused to come to the funeral because she "already said goodbye to him" from a falling out they had. What about everyone else that needed love and support? Forget them too, right? It was as if everyone couldn't wait to just put him in the ground and be done with it. My father's side of the family has never been the best at communication (I plead the fifth) but everyone's true colors were shown after my father's death. It was like being hit with a Double-Whammy.

I lost my mother in 2005. It's still hard to believe it's been over 13 years since being without her. What was different about my mother's passing was being there until the very end. She was diagnosed with terminal cancer and battled it for nine months. I took care of her while holding down a job at the airport, finishing up school to graduate on time, and then some (nearly died twice while she was sick.) I am forever grateful that I was able to say goodbye to her. When people wonder what's worse: Losing a loved one suddenly or watching them slowly deteriorate... after experiencing both, the worst is the unexpected. There's so much I wanted to say to my father before he died and because we were estranged for three years before he passed, I'm eternally haunted from all the things left unsaid and what could have been. Is it normal to think that there's something else I could have done to prevent such a heartbreaking loss? Yes, but that's part of grieving.

How long does the grieving process take? I'm going to have to say, sadly, for the rest of your life. Is it easy for me every day? Fuck no. Some days are so awful, I have trouble getting out of bed. But then I hear my parents, and they'd be damned if I lived an unhappy, unfulfilled life. They wouldn't want that for me. And even though I try my hardest to live a full, rich life, I can't help but feel such sadness at times, knowing I can't share any of my accomplishments or mistakes with them. And in turn, I feel this incredible pressure to honor them - to prove to my parents that I wasn't born in vain and that it was all worth something. That I'm made of both of them, and that's a gift within itself. Do I feel lost half the time? Yep. Do I have moments of profound anger? Rage? You betcha. I feel like I've been robbed. Not one, but both parents? And no family to back me up? Why? I may never know, but I know this. I love them with everything I have and the content I create isn't just for the world to see, but it is more so especially for them. I hope they are proud of what I have done (so far) but I always have the sinking feeling that it'll never be enough, that I just will never be good enough. That's a horrible burden to carry. But I carry it. With pride.

So how do I bounce back on God-awful days as such? I FIGHT. It'll take every single ounce of energy within me. I try to believe that my experiences happened for a reason, and perhaps since I was strong enough to survive it, I do feel responsible to share it with you guys. To tell my story is a privilege. I hope this short but emotional post brings you something. Whether I may inspire you, and/or make you feel less alone, or even just getting to know me a little more and have a better understanding of me: Using my blog and art has helped me tremendously through the healing process. Those of us who have lost our parents are forever changed and we will never forget. I do believe that if you’re dedicated to wanting to live a brighter, lighter life, doing the work, finding the tools, and feeling the feelings will help you move forward. It has helped me. But it's a long, unwinding road. You’ve got to feel to heal.

LOVE & XX'S,

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To Know You Is to Love You

June 17, 2017

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I'VE GOT THE BLUES...

I lost him. Suddenly and unexpectedly. When my brother made the call, I thought at first he was playing a cruel joke on me. Then the shock factor waved in. I cried the entire plane ride home. After I handled my affairs though that's when I nearly lost it. My heart was broken. Hell, it still is. His death led to my estrangement from my family. They all turned their back on me. Some even betrayed me. I'm haunted by words left unsaid. And the pain still to this day is sometimes too unbearable to take. I miss his wistful smile and the sounds from his guitar. I miss our long talks in the car when we'd drive 'up North' to visit those we loved. I miss seeking his advice and him letting me cry on his shoulder until I soaked the entire damn shirt. I miss my father.

I have my mother's spirit, but I have his soul. I love what he loved. Music, books, cars, boxing... German Shepherd dogs. When he was a kid my father had taken in a female German Shepherd that was abandoned and had named her Lady. But he lost her too soon when she was hit by a car and died in his arms. He was so crushed he wore her chain collar around his neck afterward, even leading some of the kids at school poking fun at him for wearing it and resulting in a fight. She was his everything. I respect this breed for the same reasons my father did; loyal, dedicated, courageous, intelligent and loving. They are the ideal family dog. Even at an early age, I begged my parents to have one, but my mother refused. Opposite reasons for what my father wanted, she had lost her Keeshond while living in California, and I think it hurt her so badly, she didn't even want to risk having me or my brother go through the same thing. Now as a grown-ass woman, I have to say, that getting my German Shepherd dog, MaQ, was one of the best things I have ever done in my life.

One of our favorite films we loved to watch was 1979's boxing movie, The Champ. Even to this day, I still get all choked up when watching any boxing film. There is so much heart in the sport. I know some might not care for the violence, but that's not what it's about. In the boxing ring of life, it's not how hard you can hit, but rather how many times you can get hit and keep moving forward. That's what I see in a good fighter, in any sport for that matter. Someone who is full of adversity and still has the will to persevere. Whether in the ring or out of it, no one likes a quitter. And when anyone gives up, I guarantee you they don't feel good about it.

What I really miss is hearing him play in the background growing up as a child. He had his own 'man cave' down in the basement, and once he plugged in the amp to one of his electric guitars, you could hear him jamming all the way up from the second floor. (I grew up in a duplex house) As much as my mother hated it, I found it to be rather soothing in a rollercoaster type of childhood. I had always encouraged him to try and make a demo, and I know I sound biased with what I'm about to say next because I'm his daughter, but he was very talented. When he played the blues, you could feel the pain. Guitars cry too, you know. It's kind of like opera or ballet, either you get it or you don't. I believe there takes a certain type of person to play the blues well. And my father was the epitome of that.

My father has been without me for nearly five years now, and it was only last year since his death where I even had the courage to take out and look at the only guitar had left in his possession. It is a gorgeous ruby red Ovation Guitar, and I find it so fitting he chose such a color as him and I are both Aries's. Our element is fire and color is red, and our birthdays are two days apart. I'm March 24 and his, the 26th. I'm similar to him in many ways, some good, and some not so good, but I do take pride in who I am. Like my father, I can be stubborn, cocky, impatient, blunt, even sometimes slightly intimidating but I am also generous, kind, loving and true. I don't let my friends down and would give a stranger the shirt off my back if that's all I had left. And I too, can sometimes not have the guts to go after something because I fear I may not be good enough. I don't think this was entirely the case with my father, but his reason for never making a demo tape was his love for playing and not anything else.

I think if you're passionate about something like my father was with music and playing the guitar, you should continue to pursue it and not just consider it as a hobby. So in honor of Father's Day on Sunday, I wanted to share with you some bits and pieces of him, like his guitar in this post, along with his Fender picks, amp plugs, written music notes, and cassette tapes he recorded his favorite songs on plus the music he'd make himself. And a lot of my readers have been wanting to see more videos like I used to create, and given this has been a project I've had on my mind and I wanted to make it extra special, I definitely had to make one in honor of my father. I hope he would have liked it, and I hope you do too with a tiny fraction of who he was. Thanks for stopping by and taking the time to read and watch something that really matters to me. And to all the father's out there, Happy Father's Day to you on Sunday. I love you, dad. Wish you were here, but I know you're watching and I hope I've made you proud. Until I see you when I see you, keep on keepin' on.

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CREATIVE DIRECTOR: SUZANNE SPIEGOSKI

PHOTOGRAPHER & VIDEOGRAPHER: GILLES DECAMPS

PRODUCTION & STYLING: SUZANNE SPIEGOSKI

{To Know You Is to Love You} In honor of Father's Day this Sunday, I finally created an editorial video after a long hiatus - come check it out & press play! :)

LOVE & XX'S,

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Kazman Blues

July 9, 2016

Four years ago today, (Kazman as some of his friends called him,) my father unexpectedly passed away. Since his death, I've had extreme difficulties talking about him, let alone sharing anything with anyone. I had brought back home with me several of his belongings, including his recorded cassette tapes, some from live radio but most of it is his own work, his guitar and all his picks, and his written words. He liked to write down his songs on paper, some songs are from the Rolling Stones, The Cure, Elvis, etc; but he wrote a lot of his own songs too. He was a true musician. And a very talented one at that.

We weren't on good terms towards the end of his life. So, I inevitably regretted this. I still do. I think that's why I have a tough time speaking or writing about my dad, because it didn't just hurt me to the core, amongst other predicaments like my entire family and I's estrangement, but because I never got to say goodbye. Ever hear the question of what's worse; watching someone you love die a slow and painful death, or a sudden, unexpected one? It's the latter, trust me. I lost my mother to cancer and it was just as heart-breaking, but the worst is not ever being able to say what you wanted to say. With my mother I was able to do this. I told her I loved her before she went, and knowing she heard me, it brought me a little bit of peace. Of course, I know my father loved me. We had a special bond before it all went to hell. And I will always have to carry this with me. I will always be wishing to tell him all of things I couldn't have told him, being the only one that actually mattered, is that I loved him. Deeply.

Since four years ago, I haven't taken his guitar out of its jacket. Nor have I ever even opened the box of tapes or really took the time to look through his work. It's not that I never wanted to, it's because I never could. It was far too painful to see. Alas, I felt compelled to finally see everything today because I strongly believe it's part of the grieving process. And it's a forever one. Anyone that tells you a loss will one day not hurt anymore is full of shit. They don't know what they're talking about. When you lose someone you truly loved, you can never regain that love back, the loss will remain with you forever. As a photographer, I also felt the urge to photograph some of his most cherished parts of him, which was his words and music. I wanted to share with you another piece of me, of where I come from because with all that's going on in the world right now, which is something I have to acknowledge, I've always believed in spreading stories of love, hope & strength can not only inspire someone, but perhaps, change their perspective, and in turn, change their hearts.

As part of my grieving process, I think breaking through people, things, even sentiments you may fear, can only help you. At least you're facing these fears. You might cry, you might get down, you might even get really angry. But this is all part of grief. So, I shed a few tears when documenting this, but it was a beautiful, moving experience. I felt closer to him. Instantly. And felt better than I imagined I would.

This is the last photograph I ever took of my dad. Of course, he was playing the guitar. And it's the same one I have with me. I grew up listening to him play, mostly blues and some rock, but I was utterly fascinated with his ability to play. He was really that great. Even self-taught. I tried to persuade him into making a demo, but he never took his music seriously. It was something he just truly loved to do. An enjoyment and creative outlet no one could ever take away from him. Tell me, how many times has music saved your life? Music has always been like food or art to me, something I can't live without. And it has many times, pulled me out of the gutter and back into place. Stronger. Better.

The pen is mightier than the sword. And so is music, art, and love. LOVE.

I know there's so many people in the world who are feeling the way I feel right now. And I'm sure it feels like no matter what you say or do, it won't really make a difference anyway. But it will. Because the more and more people stand up and tell their stories, the more we can understand one another and be united. Because without knowing, there is fear. And without fear, there is knowing. So I ask you today, in honor of my father, keep sharing your lives and stories. I don't care what or who you are. If you're the color purple like Barney the Dinosaur, it doesn't matter to me. What matters is to treat people with patience, kindness and fairness. If you're not hurting anyone or yourself, I love you. Do it for those who no longer have their loved ones around to hug tight and tell them how much we love and care for them. Because we'll be wishing for this until our dying day. Let's stop the miscommunication and get talking, people. If you haven't talked to someone you loved in a while, pick up the phone and check to see how they're doing. You never know how much this might mean to a person. Potentially, even saving them. Love. Love. Love. Just always, love. Until next time, L-O-V-E, LOVE. ❤️❤️❤️