Simply hearing You arrived safely And every ounce Of worry disappeared Simply seeing Your sweet face And my heart Filled to overflowing- I am convinced Our capacity To love grows Exponentially With the birth Of a child And when that baby Is a grandchild- Well, I will keep Searching for words And let you know- It’s going to be an adventure! 💗
I used to find the idea of regularly visiting a cemetery puzzling. Not in a disrespectful way. My thought was-Well, I know they are not there.
Today, Mom sent me a photo of Dad’s newly installed headstone. I’m beginning to understand the pull.
As I looked at the design, zooming in on details, I saw the story. Names and dates that represent what was and what continues. Birth, marriage, death-pieces of a beautiful puzzle. A puzzle to which I also belong.
I hope to visit soon. 💙
Stories etched In granite gray Beginnings And endings Bordered by And filled in With love And hope A serene spot Shaped for The kind of Remembering That leads To living
What does thirty years mean to you? If we look at it in terms of math-10,950 days, 262,800 hours, and 15,768,000 minutes. And yes, I did the math. Just don’t ask me to show my work! And while those huge numbers give a little sense of the time that has passed, they don’t quite do justice.
For me, a lot of ground has been covered in thirty years. It began with what I like to call a rescue. My life was a mess when I met Gart. I suppose he could say the same. But he found me, and that was that.
We were both ready for a commitment. That decision covered seven cities, one apartment, and seven houses. It also brought new jobs and a long list of friends.
What result are we most proud of? Three grown children and one beautiful daughter-in-law. Each of them is their own person. Each with their own gifts. Each holds kindness and the ability to accept others where they are.
Well, tomorrow is our official thirty-year anniversary. It is also the day before our first granddaughter’s due date. How appropriate. The beginning of year thirty will be celebrated while waiting on the birth of this new little person we already love.
Was I looking at the sky? Or was it a painting? Soft brushstrokes Blues, grays, whites Perfectly placed Caused a glitch In my perception- Even as the radiance Of the images Transformed My curious smile Did not want to accept An answer to my questions- Sometimes curiosity For curiosity’s sake Is more gratifying Than actually discovering A logical solution Was I looking at the sky? Or was it a painting? What do you think?
Giddy is not a word I use often. But today, it is the word that chose me. I suppose it fits an about-to-be first-time Gigi. I’ve been doing a countdown. Thirteen days or less! Twelve days or less! Eleven days or less! You get the idea. Probably driving everyone crazy, including the expectant parents.
It’s a different kind of waiting, for obvious reasons, but also because it is brand new. Everything about it. A new life, a new relationship, a new role. And after hearing from the kids today, I could hardly contain my excitement, emotions, and all the above. Probably still a few days out.
While writing this poem yesterday, I thought about childhood and how we sometimes lose wonder and awe in adulthood. Here’s to grandbabies, Gigis, and the gift of curiosity. I am ready to reclaim it!
Ask her if She is strong Her response Will follow a Quizzical look-No But the truth Speaks clearly From the past Into the present Instances too many To list on a page- On this day With the sun Shining brightly On flower petals Still wet from Last night’s rain These stand out- Her beautiful Brave smile While in recovery Following Breast cancer surgery- Her gracious Prayer of gratitude Standing with me And my brother Next to Dad’s casket- Ask me if She is strong My response Will follow an Undeniable smile-Yes! She’s my mom!
Even the warm Sunshine Was unable To keep The shadow Of dread away- Like a dark cloud Approaching Warning of storms Up ahead While providing No instructions For preparation Or survival Only questions- What is about to happen? How will I respond? A revelation lifts The uneasiness But leaves behind A sadness The weight of it Heavy Pulling strings Between souls Across minor chords Tension eased only Through shared tears
My dad’s only living brother, Sam, is not expected to live much longer. I have not seen him in years. And yet, this news brought sadness.
Dad has only been gone a few months. I know the heartache Sam’s loss will bring to others in my family.
Red clay roots Must run deep I can’t think of Any other reason For your vibrancy A fiery reddish orange Creating community Wherever you grow- In some instances Grouped together In small bouquets To mark celebrations Or remembrances Most of the time Woven amongst Blades of green grass A colorful lace carpet- Unafraid to share Your birthplace A variety of colors Dances with you On the breeze- Pale pinks Lovely lilacs Sunwashed yellows- Welcomed as part Of your family-
Imagine I was a bird– Gliding overhead Following painted maps A witness to your beauty A witness to the power Of shared roots across Uncommon ground
I want it to Go away The feeling itself And the way It makes me feel Yesterday It refused- Sticking around Like a dull Headache Affecting All of me- Blurry vision Upset stomach Tense muscles- So it goes With anger But like that Dull headache I know it will ease When carefully Tended with The right remedies
Anger is listed in the stages of grief. But somehow, I was not expecting it to be part of my experience. That is not my personality. Nor did I understand its close relationship with sadness. That is, until this week.
Driving to work Monday, I had a sudden image of Mom and Dad at home. They were going through their morning routine, smiling. I smiled. Just as suddenly, I felt mad. Angry at the reality that he is not there with her.
Honestly, I did not recognize it as anger at first. But it did not fade. Two things helped. Naming it and allowing it to work its way out thru tears.
Smiling helps, too. It's just that some days that requires a bit more intention.😊