I don’t know how
To prepare myself
I’m not sure
It is even possible
Some things are like that
…most things are like that
But this is…different
A certain stopover
On this fresh journey
Known as grief-
So much can change
In the blink of a year
Starting a new job
Becoming a Gigi
Or, in Mom’s case
A Great Grandma
So much remains
The love of family
And missing you
Happily sitting
Soaking
In the smiles
An observer
Of the ones
Who make me
What I am
And fill me
To my core
Precious days
Marked by traditions
And Celebration
Momentary stops
On this continuing
Path called
Carrying Grief
Where the hellos
Grow sweeter
And the goodbyes
Last longer-
A temptation
To hold on too tight
Tries to sneak in
But letting go
Through the tears
Is the only way
To feel fresh air
Enter my lungs
Clear my head
And heal my heart
This Christmas holiday season has been sweet. So much laughter and thoughtful gifts, surrounded by my family. Not to mention the yummy food!
But I was not prepared for the goodbyes.
Goodbyes are reminders of missing. And we are all missing Dad. The goodbyes brought tears and swells of grief. But they also left behind gratitude. A reminder that the depth of missing matches the depth of love.
Since Dad passed, Mom has asked several times if there was anything of his I wanted. Initially, I took a couple of his sweater vests. I knew how much he liked wearing them. My mother-in-law made a sweet teddy bear from them that now sits in my studio.
When Mom would ask again, I really couldn’t think of anything else. That is, until this past weekend.
While in Little Rock picking up Mom for Christmas, I noticed my niece wearing one of Dad’s Razorback sweatshirts. It made me smile. And it helped us talk about him and how much we miss him. So, I asked about his other Razorback shirts.
Mom brought out two long-sleeve T-shirts and a jacket for me. I wasn’t sure if I’d wear them, but having them seemed right. If you know my dad, you know he loved to cheer on the Razorbacks. If they happened to be playing on network TV, he would watch. Otherwise, he had his radio nearby and tuned in to listen.
Well, today is Christmas Eve. And I decided to try on one of the shirts with some black leggings. Turned out to be the perfect choice. I miss him so much. But today, I am smiling as I remember.
One last sit
On the couch
Walk around the
Neighborhood
Swing on the swing
Slide down the slide-
Cleaning out
Packing up
Off on a new
Adventure-
Life’s changes
Don’t always
Provide opportunity
To savor the lasts
But when it does
May I suggest
Sitting on that
Old couch
Just a little bit longer-
Our daughter moved this weekend. Not far away, thankfully. 😉 As we talked about the specifics of loading and unloading, she reminded me of an earlier move.
The kids were young. We were preparing for a big move, and had a moving sale. Our things displayed in the front yard. I will never forget one request from the kids. Can we please have one last sit on the couch?
After all these years, I think I’m beginning to understand the wisdom in their request. ❤️
Yesterday, I celebrated my 56th birthday! And my oldest son celebrated his 29th. I’ve been a mom for 29 years. This year, I watched as my son became a parent. And Gigi is now on the list of names to which I answer. What a gift!
I was anxious about the day-our first Thanksgiving without Dad. It was a lovely day. I enjoyed catching up with my extended family. Laughing with my husband and grown children. Snuggling with my sweet granddaughter.
Thinking about how to handle my emotions before the day arrived proved helpful. Though I missed Dad, I did not want it to be a sad day.
There was a moment when tears began to swell. I took a deep breath and snuggled sweet Emi a little closer. Then watched the day unfold-thankful.
Currently
The tiniest
Of us all
Not helpless
Yet, in need of
Assistance
Not a bother
On the contrary—
Your arrival
Single-handedly
Drew joy from
Deep within
Even those of us
Learning to live
With grief-
We knew
You were on your way
Still, your arrival
Caught us by
Surprise
Or maybe
The surprise
Was the love
Suddenly spilling out
When you opened
Your newborn eyes
I am learning
There are many ways
To express my grief
Tears, laughter
Listening
Remembering
But also through words
Not always sad
Many times sweet
No matter which way
I choose in any
Given moment
The healing happens
In the expressing
Simple recipe
Words on a card
Pat of butter
Two cups of flour
Ice cold water
The comforting smell
Of pie crust baking
Warm milk
Cocoa powder
Sugar, of course
Touch of vanilla
Continuous stirring
Required
For perfectly
Smooth filling
I can almost
Taste it now-
Watching my sweet Dad
Wearing his apron on
Thanksgiving morning
Remembering
With gratefulness
His smile
As I tasted
The leftover filling-
The simplest of
Ingredients
Transformed
Into so much joy
Yesterday’s poetry circle with Ali Grimshaw https://flashlightbatteries.blog/ was a precious gift. I am grateful for both the words I wrote and the ones I was blessed to hear. ❤️
Stuffy nose
Tiny cough
Little rattles
Lacing
Your breath
Fussy cry
Flushed cheeks
Finally asleep
Mom and Dad
Cautiously
Creep across
The floor
Standing
Perfectly still
Holding
Their breath
Until seeing
The rise
And fall
Of yours-
Feel better
Little one
I will never forget watching my babies sleep, especially if they were sick. Seeing my son and daughter-in-law care for Emi brings those memories rushing back. This week, she is not feeling well. And, of course, they are taking great care of her. It is hard work deciphering signals from a sick baby.
Sharing two poems from a recent poetry circle facilitated by Ali Grimshaw. https://flashlightbatteries.blog/. I continue to love this process and the people it allows me to meet. ❤️
I saw you waving
From the side
Of the road-
Who me? I smiled
Wanting to stop
And stay for a bit
But the cars were
Starting to move
And work was waiting-
Seemed silly
In the moment
Nevertheless, I quickly
Snapped your picture
Hoping to capture
Your golden yellow leaves
Grateful to receive
Your promising message
On such a gloomy morning
It’s ok-The rain must fall
We will all be brighter tomorrow
I am known
For crying
My mom is known
For crying
My grandmother
My aunts
Even my daughter
I suppose we
Come by it
Honestly
This tendency
To express both
The happiest and
Saddest moments
In a similar way
Causes some
To ponder
And sometimes
Dare to ask-
Why are you crying?
And if they truly
Want to know
I will gladly tell them
That is if I can stop crying
Piano Girl 