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

His House

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.

Will the real self stand up

Different identities
They rise up

There’s the fearful one
The controller
The loyal wife
The caretaker

All reactive
Ego driven

The Observer
says “return to
Center, sit in silence,
Listen”

So who’s Dying here
Who’s letting go?

His life ebbs
But mine is torn
Stripped as
mini deaths

Force me to Truth
His life, God’s life

One life, our life
It directs us,
guides us
If we Listen

How to stay in that
Knowing that flow

Is this my lesson?
His gift to me
Even as he lies there
dying?

Letting GO

I was hovering,

Clinging, feeling
Guilt.

All masks for grief.
I didn’t want to
lose him.

I was holding him
back.

But love prevails.
He’s in my heart.
He’s embraced by the
Sacred Heart
taking him home.

Peace beyond words
descends.

Is He Dying?

Hovering…
What can I do
to protect you?

I see suffering
My fault
I’m not enough.

God’s. Plan?
Lost the bigger
picture…it’s too
much to bear

Find Center
Find peace
Go to the silence
for solace

I feel fear
of what?
Failing.

Can’t understand him
How can I help?
Not in control

Done everything I
knew how to do
Not enough

I’m not enough
What learning
is there in this.

Keeps you humble
The nurse said
Not my strong suit.

Dealing with death brings all the feelings, beliefs, fears to the surface. I try to witness them. No need to console me…it’s already changed. I’ve moved to a new “now”.