Death…of those we love

A number of books about death
have floated my way.
It may be the aging of baby boomers,
or it may be another coming out of the closet.

A culture that believes you can pull yourself
up by the boot straps,
buy yourself out of any situation…
finding out that Life has the last laugh.

Death will either crack you open
to the magic of each moment or
create scar tissue that
has no feeling.

Grieving is humbling
corralling you into the present
no where to go
a journey

you can’t control,
or even understand
simultaneously you’re numb and
more alive then you’ve ever been.

Sugar High

Never walk
into Servati’s
eyeing their
generous wedge

of carrot cake
convincing yourself
it will last at least
three days.

Denial does not
stop the calories
from going to
your hips.

It does not numb
you out enough,
you still feel, yep
you still feel.

It did taste pretty
darn good though.
A small consolation
to be savored.

Anger, etc.

So the anger comes
mixed with sadness,
numbing out the tears.

Stay strong, you can do
this, don’t show the world
the bleeding wounds of grief.

Overwhelmed by stuff,
finding the perfect place
to donate or give his things.

As if he would care.
How do you honor what
he put his life energy into?

How could he leave me?
I loved him so much.  But Death
takes no notice of such things.

This is the irrational time—
the feelings come, and I know
will go in their own time, but really

couldn’t they just leave now?

Change

I hit a space
where I feel alone
lost, cutoff.

I’m not of course.
Friends reach out
with care and food.

So where does
vulnerability
come from?

Did I over identify
with “us”?
Did “me” get lost?

Filling out the all
the paperwork
scares me.

It never used to.
Did I think he was a
talisman for me?

My mind searches
for an explanation,
even though I know

it’s only with time that
a new way of life
will be born.

A Bump in the Road

Overeating
Stuffing emotions
Classic case.

What am I avoiding?
The “I don’t know
what to do now?”

Packing up his clothes
Some say it is too fast
Are there rules to grieving?

Are there rules to what
a loving spouse does
or doesn’t do? How fast?

Not ready for crowds
Not ready to start
anything new, so

evenings are way too open.
Maybe that’s what the
food is trying to fill.

If everything of his was gone,
he’d still be here, curled
in a warm spot in my heart.

Remembering this I will make
a list….my list, taking it
just one day at a time.

The Flow of Life

Worms feed robins
Mice feed coyotes
Cattle feed humans

Everything gives
of itself to sustain life
Our bodies decay

and feed the earth
The air we exhale,
others breathe in

The dance of life
The sacred giving
and receiving

Stop the flow
and you are
out of step

You suddenly think
you are more important
then the field mice

This form will end.
The only thing that
lives on is our love

It flows on like a river
through everything,
until resting in the ocean

it evaporates
lifting into clouds, and
the dance starts again.

Grief

When a woman screams
during childbirth.
Does she need healing?

Her life has certainly
changed forever, in ways
beyond imagination.

When a woman keens the
loss of a child,
Is it healing she needs?

Loss isn’t a wound
you put salve on
and the skin grows back.

Loss is a space
A void that pulls you
into a reordering of life

Without him, who am I?
How do I spend my time?
Who do I tell my secrets to?

The cycle of life forces us
to detach, to remember
our deeper truth

To reach up or in
To reconnect with the Love
that is not dependent on form.

Grief is a mini death that
brings us home to anchor,
to remember what’s important

Grief strips us,
and then connects us
to each other and to God

Left Behind

Last night it hit
the sobs came
in waves

A neighbor stopped
by with a card
and the dam broke

The card was for me
not him,
my life had changed

I loved him so much
we were both at peace
he was ready to go

Somehow I kept at bay
how sobs and cries echo
in a room when you’re alone

“Who should we call
in case of emergency”
I’ll get back with you on that.

Today I’m resting in the
now of my life. not knowing
the next step, knowing I’m

kin to all those before me
who stand alone, aware they
were left behind.

Twenty Questions

Twenty questions*
* A workshop exercise we used to use to help people get past the superficial answers, only the question was “who am I”. This “Twenty Questions” comes from the concern of friends and family. What do I say…..

How are you? I don’t know
How are you? Here. No that’s good, really.
How are you? Thinking
How are you? Getting things done
How are you? Feeling supported
How are you? Grateful, I had him for so long
How are you? Noticing the silence
How are you? Getting things done
How are you? Grateful for my friends
How are you? Wondering how the bed got sooo big
How are you? Trying to remember how to buy food for one
How are you? I just am
How are you? I don’t know, sad
How are you? Weeding the garden
How are you? My back hurts
How are you? Trying to sleep through the night
How are you? Peaceful
How are you? Wanting to make sure others’ needs are met
How are you? Waiting for death certificates
How are you? It’s just the beginning, I don’t know

The journey continues….I feel supported, loved. I am blessed!

It’s Done

Now there is the
endless space
he used to fill

the endless to do
list to get affairs
in order

The mental fog
that’s either
life’s comfort

or the aftermath,
reflecting the
magnitude

of the quake
splitting open
the ordinary

So I buy his favorite
cherry tomato plant
I plant it

What else would,
could, I do