-- a journey into awareness
Some wear it around their necks
Others shift it to their right hand
Some sell it for what they can get
Mine rests in a box with his.
I’m changing to my engagement ring,
a Star Sapphire, its star hidden
until placed in the Light.
A gentle reminder that love
never dies, that what’s
important is always there. 
You just have to know where to look,
how to look, and of course always
be prepared to be surprised
The gift and challenge of loss
The ring came off.
The journey continues.
I drive down 31E through Ky
into TN remembering the lush
farmlands, the quiet countryside,
and I feel him beside me.
I go to WPAF Base to reassure
myself that my military ID is still good.
I walk the aisles of the Commissary
and I feel him, hear his commentary.
The “Old Haunts” where we were
Just together, doing everyday things.
His presence, I feel it, and then
my mind reminds me that will change.
The memory will fade.
The feeling of him will dissipate
as if he’s merely a ghost haunting me.
Stop! I bring myself back into now.
I let him be here with me.
I give up trying to know, as least
for a nano second, what’s next.
I stop trying to make sense of it all.
Right now it is enough to
feel my love for him
from him
and let it be.
I was getting annoyed with my neighbor.
I’d invite him to visit ,
then get cynical/argumentative.
What was going on?
Another friend sat with me.
She listened as I put the question
out there…waiting.
The answer came,
“He’s not Joseph.”
The tears followed.
It wasn’t the Presence I knew
the Presence I expected
the Presence I so loved.
I keep discovering ways I miss him
Even as I feel him with me
go figure…
‘cause I can’t.
P.S. This isn’t about my neighbor whom I truly like. It’s just what happened. I continue to allow the feelings to flow through me the best I can, trusting that it is as it should be. Being willing to see, to feel in the moment, even when it’s uncomfortable, embarrassing, is to me being here now. It allows me to release the thoughts/emotions so I can come closer to touching the silence within. So be it.
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.
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.
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
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*
* 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!
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
You walk around the house
half the things you touch
are his
His toothbrushes
His clothes
His coffee mug
You think about moving
these things on
And the thought
Comes,
“but he might
need them”
And you remember
he’s lying
In hospice
He won’t need them.
He’s not coming
home, at least
Not to this home. The
one you can’t imagine
without him.
You throw the toothbrush
out, a first step, a baby step,
In the daunting tasks to come.