
Terms of Bereavement
Originally posted 4-21-15
That side of my bed is cold as death.
It fills me with such emptiness.
The lingering scent of absence
haunting the corners as if
they had a right to be there anymore.
I stare at the dreams we once
shared together
as they drift like chipped paint
on a breathless breeze from my ceiling.
I lose the fragmented pieces
as they get swept up each Monday
on chore day.
I recognize the longing for the echoed laughter,
the heat of your kiss,
the flesh of our creation sweating drops of love
onto my flesh on a Sunday afternoon.
I remember that night I stayed up
soaking your t-shirt with rejection
that you soothed with caresses of forgiveness.
I roll away from death
even as I reach my hand to grasp the pillow
that no longer smells like you
even though I’ve not changed the fabric case.
I’d hoped that it would imprison the thoughts
that made “we” an
unbreakable, indivisible, apocalyptic force
to be reckoned with in our unity.
I pull the blanket your mother made for you
(on our fourth Christmas wed)
over my head
tasting the salt of my regret
that I didn’t know that was the last.
That side of my bed is coffin cold.
It fills me with such emptiness.
Processing
Chapter One
Yesterday was Christmas.
Chapter Two
I am constantly astounded by how my perceptions become altered by the actual life events that take place. I envisioned my Christmas holiday to be spent doing a set number of things in a particular order. I had set my day up all ready and planned. And then life happened.
My friends of a long time messaged me that they wanted to visit. I hesitated. I wanted my day to go my way. She said they wouldn’t stay long. I acquiesced against my heavy heart.
Old friends, inappropriate for the day, (I judged)
arrived full of merriment and joy.
Boisterous stories with fucking punchlines
Laughter spilling from them like beer
free-flowing,
I’m grieving. Inappropriate.
I feel like I’m the one who is inappropriate.
I wandered through their words, but I can’t
connect
I refocus, finding deep concerns of their own
Ones they came to share as their gift.
Just them being everything they are and I,
I sat in judgement because of my own sorrows.
How can I hold space when there is too much
detachment?
Chapter Three
As you may know, dear ones, I am no longer a chicken mom and I’ve taken it pretty hard. A role I treasured in my heart has been taken away by time and the realization that no matter how much you love someone or something, they will have to leave in whatever capacity.
Change is inevitable. It’s when we pretend that it isn’t, is when the expectations grow into a catastrophe of events. I thought my life would be a simple little chicken farmer in an urban setting. I planned on my husband and I would build it together. That vision got disrupted when I moved back down here and he and I chose individual happiness instead of mutual dissatisfaction.
Chapter Four
By passing my thoughts of yesterday
through the filter of sleepy wisdom
I process.
I’m grateful for my fucking people
just as much as I am for my church people
(Some of which are in both categories)
That they arrived enough
to disturb my lamentations
My sorrow of a vision lost to time
My sorrow of a chosen different path
My sorrow of little friends I knew
My grief of the loss of my vision of family
I’m weeping. And lonely for that path I once walked.
Roots Dig Down
My roots dig down to the depths of my grief.
I have blood in the soil here now.
I have committed my earthen peace
I have swallowed oceans of sorrow until I drown
But that first fresh breath of holy air
that first hint of growing comfort
The absolute trust in knowing living love
Is beyond priceless to my clandestine spirit
I welcome the shift from despair to hope
I am open to the changes in my life
Digging Cores
Life is a mighty reminder set like a tiny alarm
that goes off without warning
It’s digging down into the core elements of your humanity;
like excavating a deep conversation
with just the right person
at just the right time.
It’s remembering that your very existence,
exactly as you are,
is your contribution
your glory is in honoring
that which you were created to be
Every depth of truth discovered
is closer to your personal divinity.
Reflective silence
As I sit in reflective silence,
My refrigerator hums to life
I notice when it stops
silence once again.
I attempt to release all anxiety
(to give it to the Universe)
I’m resentful of my own inadequacies.
I relax into my “Captain’s Chair”
I focus on my breathing
In
hold
exhale
hold
I am soothing my inner child
the one that got frightened
angry, furious
I let go of anger.
I can’t hold it to my chest as I once did
suckling it like an infant
Loving the bitterness of my tears
I was encouraged to lie
to hide with deceitful heart.
I sure do want to, but who would I be then?
I know my spirit holds a different truth
a deeper meaning of who I want to be
while sitting in reflective silence
Soul Sisters
Grab my magical hands as we gather
as we dance in spirals of laughter
as we greet the muddy earth with
deeply extending roots from our heels
Celebrating the turning of the wheel
Embracing the darkening moon ever blessed
The time for planting that is to manifest
So…Anyways
In a conversation I had with my mother, Linda Looney, I noticed a repeated pattern, often punctuated with a tsk, or, and, in addition to her favorite “So…Anyways…” Here is what it sounds like to listen to my mom. This is primarily jotted notes of how she speaks. This is merely the art of her rhythm Used with her permission.
“So…anyways…
pay the bills
wait to die
(Laughs)
You can count on change
but fer sure
(chuckles)
death and taxes
(Describing a trip to Missouri)
like dogs down the highway
heads out the window
Just trying to catch a chill.
You know…So…Anyways
Oh God!
What a hellish year
instead of crap going on
why can’t we have peace
I’m smirking like the Grinch
That’s about correct.
I guess.
So…anyways…
“Ma, I’m gonna let you go. I love you.”
“I love you too, dear daughter.”
Incredible Soul
I’m reaching out to you.
You are such an incredible soul.
I love the me I am when I’m with you.
I am gifted with faith in trusting
the love I’m learning
for myself.
I am shown every time we meet,
how lucky I am to know you,
Thank you for sharing your heart,
your time, and your love with me.
Loving Louder
My very breath is a testament of gratitude.
My arms are open for love; deep soul hugs.
My spirit is filled with white light
spinning freely from my fingertips,
I’m embracing my life with all the joys,
tribulations, suffering, and anxieties.
I’m looking for your face in the crowd
I’m looking to see you as you are; loving louder