Tag Archives: acceptance
Confidential
For the first time in my adult life, I am wearing a tankini with a big fluffy skirt over it and my belly is hanging out. I didn’t go swimming, but I am wearing my swimsuit. At first, I was a little nervous, but then I trust myself in the confidence of a balding, middle-aged man who is talking about his Jesus and how women need to be submissive. And I’ve walked around town, not giving a fuck.


BTW: Today is my Bestie’s birthday. I’m celebrating her in all her wonder. She is so very human and so authentic to her spirit it would be the biggest challenge not to admire her.

Witness
I will be your witness.
I, but a casual name to your kin,
will hold you truly and dearly,
cherish deeply the breaths
Between ideas, ideology, and emotions
That I have been honored to share with you.
With the reverence afforded a blessing
I will weep for the absence
of your knowledge
severed by inevitable occasion
Master to servant
Teacher to student
Friendship entertained
with portions communal
A time of Kairos inspected.
The right, critical, or opportune moment
To bring witness and testimony of you
To the level of intimacy you’ve granted.
Unexpected Holiness
As a practicing Death Doula, I have the privilege and honor to walk people home. Sometimes the human I am assisting has a goal they want to accomplish before they die or they want specific music playing throughout their stay with hospice. The sky is the limit if I can get it done.
My most recent client, Alden* (not his real name), is one I’ve known for well over a decade. I have been his caregiver for several of those years and his POA for the last few months.
He never married or had kids except for his beloved cats whom he referred to as his kids. Puttyhead and Topper were his world. Puttyhead was 15 and died the day Alden came home from an extended stay at an after hospital rehab facility. Topper is also 15 and lovingly small.
Only a month later, Alden was back in the hospital in critical condition. When he was stable enough to communicate, he expressed a longing to see Topper.
After he returned to a rehab facility, I brought the two together. It was extremely emotional for everyone involved.
Three months later, Alden was again admitted to ICU. This time was far worse than before which prompted end of life discussions. He again, miraculously pulled himself back to stable-ish.
He was given a choice between four options with hospice being three of them in different places. The fourth was terminal reduction of oxygen which was immediately rejected.
Hospice option one had him remaining in ICU but he couldn’t see Topper, but his loved ones could all come visit.
Hospice option number two had him still in the hospital but in a room where he could see his “child”.
The third hospice option was for him to go home to his cat, but the condition was that he couldn’t be on the heavy duty breathing support. He had to be able to be on a cannula. But each attempt at weaning him hadn’t lasted longer than five to six minutes.
I asked him to think about hospice. There was zero pressure to choose. Breaking the hospital/rehab cycle is too personal for me to make the call. I’m there to support them and offer as many feasible options as practical.
I returned the following morning to find him holding steady on a cannula! Three hours at that time with no stat drops. Alden looked pleased with himself and he decided no hospice.
I finished the visit and headed home.
A short while later, I got a call from Nurse Beth explaining that things weren’t working well. Bring the people who love him, which I did.
Within the hour, a small group gathered by Alden’s side. We talked with him, hugged him, shared stories, and then he rallied (It’s rather common for someone to have a surge of energy and seem like their health is improving when death approaches).
The following morning, Alden was awake, alert, and writing down his wishes. He wanted to go home to Topper. We got hospice on board. But Alden wasn’t strong enough for transport.
With a lot of logistics and a stand-off with the administration about bringing in Topper, we figured it out.
Topper arrived and spent two and a half hours sharing time together. These two “old men” said everything they needed to say to each other. Topper crawled up onto Alden’s chest and fell asleep while his dad stroked his fur. The room was filled with so much love and beauty it was heartbreakingly holy.
Alden was tired. He asked me to bring Topper home.
I returned to the hospital and saw symptoms of end of life occurring. (Changes in coloration of fingers, eyes glassy and unable to blink for example). We pulled in a sleeper for me but I stayed with him until he died early morning.
The silence. The absence. The intensity of ancestral grief honoring the life that was and the life that is. The punctuation mark ripped from the book of the living, transferred to the book of the dead was complete.
Paperwork finished, I looked out the window to see the pre-sunrise colors warming the purple sky. I thought, “This is the first sunset my friend can’t see. Another day for me but not for him.” (For clarity, the contrast between the sunrise I was seeing and his sunset shortly before).
I watched the purple change to pink then orange as the sun granted light on the dark day. I felt the love we shared as friends grant me strength and purpose to walk my people home.
Beyond the Veil
Beneath the willow’s weeping bough we stand,
Where shadows lengthen in the dying light,
Your memory carved deep within this land,
A beacon burning through eternal night.
Though death has claimed your mortal frame from me,
My heart remains forever bound to yours,
Like ancient oak roots drinking from the sea,
Our bond transcends these temporary shores.
The seasons turn, yet still I keep the flame
Of promises we whispered long ago,
No grave can hold the power of your name,
No winter wind can make my devotion slow.
In dreams you walk beside me through the years,
My loyalty flows deeper than these tears
Celebrate
The griefs are many
but find value in truth that:
Each breath
Each heartbeat
Each moment celebrating
Each of those
Is a courtship of death.
By embracing
THIS breath
THIS heartbeat
THIS moment of joy
Is a nod of recognition
To infinite mystery

Our age is known
By the buried bones
Of our bloodline
Reflected in chosen heritage
And the legacy of their love.
Desiderate
I feel an animosity towards time
It proceeds without caution,
barreling through individual’s lives
destruction and creation embodied
A shallow dagger tattooing memories
in a word.
I swallow in lusty gulps the mana
that ever and again poisons me
with child-like misplaced trust
of the perpetuation of consistency
bathed in my blissful ignorance
in a word.
It’s not enough to hold resentment
towards the testament of our days,
nor is it a hobby to be taken frivolously
It is neither good nor evil,
but yet it commonly holds the dichotomy
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”
Or so the story goes
in a word.
Bob’s backyard
Bob returned home after 6 months of being gone. He’s in such a good mood I had to scrape him off the ceiling with a spatula. My Beastie and I moved everything out of his apartment and back to his house.
Mocha enjoyed a pup cup today with deep passion.

In other news, last year I asked to do an art installation in the local park frequented by people who walk, run, stroll, etc. on the paths. The city said no, they don’t allow any kind of signs along that pathway in the park.
I sent them samples of the signs I wanted to place. Like “If you’re here, you’re awesome!” “You’re amazing!” “Keep going, you’ve got this!” “You are loved.” But they still said no. That irritated me enough that I made and gave out over 300 1” buttons that said, “Be L❤️ve”.
Although that sated my thirst for a bit, I wondered if I was thinking too small. Turns out, I was!
As part of the Stewardship drive at my church, anyone who pledged for the year got:

I designed them with a bit of editing and encouragement from my Bestie (Jen Stark suggested Live Joy) and input from Lóre Stevens (Create). Now, those signs will be all over my city all because I was told No. HA! Each one a stake of rebellion and I’m bursting with joy!
Giving up grief
I’ve given up on grief.
It’s too small of a word
To contain the absence I feel
To cover the sorrow that blooms
Unexpectedly
When I make coffee in the morning
Or taste a muffin
Like you used to make
I’ve given up grief
It’s too small of a space
To hold all that was you
The way you laughed
The scent of your body
Fresh out of the shower
Or sweaty with work
I’ve given up grief
It’s too shallow for a feeling
That is deeper than I thought
Although I suspected,
Your love holds me buoyant
In the ocean of our commitment
Yes, I’ve given up grief
Because the world requires
The gift of who you were
Through my eyes.
I can’t hold that when it,
Like you,
Were born to shine even now
Live out loud
Do not wad your spirit up in a crumpled ball to be tucked away or discarded. Spread out your body to relish the wrinkles of wisdom topped off with your star shine luminosity. Smooth back the night to raise the powerful roots that feed your soul with your destiny.
You weren’t meant to shy away from your glory, you were born to glitter wildly, bubble fruitfully, and bloom in magnificence like those before you. There are no boundaries beneath your feet, only your path.
You were meant to be loud; to take up the space stolen from you by those who fear your wealth of experience and wisdom. They use old, crone, bitch, or other words to describe those who embrace their true nature with delighted abandon. Those are words that mean survivor, wise, and assertive. Those words are meant to keep you small, withered, starving for approval. You own their power.
You do not require permission to explode with color, dance joyfully wherever/whenever you please, or to laugh until your eyes leak. You were born for this. I can’t wait to be a wild human with you!

