trying hard

the evening drizzle is cold enough to sting
in the aftermath
the cricket songs are continuous
the soft breeze creates gently dancing tree shadows
on my neighbors wood fence

I dream of moving
but there is so much
I would have to pack
I remember maneuvering his wheelchair
through houses we were shopping for

My baby says he misses daddy
My oldest asks if I am used to being without him yet.
No, I say.  No, I'm not.
I am, he says. 

I awake covered in pee,
I make everyone breakfast but me
grab my coffee and a Luna bar
and don't stop moving from 6:20 a.m. till 9:15

strange things
break me
at moments I can't predict
but mostly I can smile and play
while inside my heart curdles
because each moment, good or bad,
moves me away from him

How is it that he is not here? 
I don't understand that.
I live it, I just don't understand it.

sometimes I wish I could light myself up
like a cigarette or a candle or a fire work
burn and glow and send smoke into the atmosphere
and be done
I'd leave trailer lights behind the eyes of anyone who saw me
and I wouldn't have
to try
so
damned
hard.

beginnings of my credo?

Beauty is not how you look.  It is how you love and how you speak and how you walk.

belief is not what you find written by someone.  It is what makes your heart relax and what touches your center in a way that opens everything inside you to hope.

Greatness is not being right or being followed or admired.  It is knowing what is right and standing up for it, while not allowing your stance to be on the backs of anyone else.

let the rain touch my pores.  let my heart connect to the mist that caresses the crevices of each mountain nook.  these are the places that allow me to live, without judgement

There are not answers.  There are questions cradled in the glowing sunsets, the sparkling sunrises, the crackling fires, and the smooth sleek tumbles of river waters

I believe there is nothing but what is here and can be felt, or created between each of us, be the pairing human, ursine, aquatic, somehow sentient, or solid and of the earth.

There is power in each of these things.  Some carry power in words, some in caress, some in strength and solidity or in their simple existence.

Find a path.  Hold a hand.  Touch something other than yourself.  These simple things are what I believe in.  These connections.  These moment of clarity that breathe comfort into the indifference or pain which all too often engulfs us.  There is no god or God, no Goddess or gods judging us, loving us, choosing among us, helping or hurting us...there is energy. There is expansion, growth, destruction, pain, death, sorrow...and love. If there is anything akin to being saved, it is feeling, finding, accepting LOVE. 

There is Divine Connection.

.

wishing for the woods

I am so tired.  I feel numb and hollow and lost.  I hate going to sleep at night because I know it will bring another day that I have to fight my way through.  I can't keep up with anything.  I have this friend who is a lawyer and several years back she was in a horrible car accident.  This was before we met.  They didn't know if she would live.  After recovering, she had so much pain for so long, they ended up needing to do this operation to implant a device that sends pain medication through her system at regular intervals.  You would never know there was anything wrong with her.  Plus, her third and youngest son is one of the kids that has the type of peanut allergy that, when combined with his asthma, could kill him, and almost has on several occasions. 

What this seems to have done is create this very intelligent woman who has a huge heart and a phenomenal talent for saying the right things at the right times.  At least to me.  I remember when John was first diagnosed, she used to pick up Aiden and take him to preschool with her two boys ever day.  One day, I got Aiden to the door and things were crazy as I was trying to get stuff organized to get John to NIH for his chemo and we weren't even close to being ready...she stopped me and told me in this amazing and awe struck tone that I get the kids waffles for breakfast every day and keep things going.  I was all "yeah, and?"  She told me that was huge.  That it was normal and one of the hardest things ever when you are dealing with they type of thing we were dealing with.  I had never thought of that.  She stopped me in my tracks.  Something in her eyes made me take the compliment, even though I didn't really get it, and something in her voice gave me a deep comfort. 

And now I get it...the fact that I am getting them their V8 Fusion every day, that I talk about getting protein and fiber and things like that, even when dinner is not so stellar (most nights), that I give them whole food vitamins...that we have clean (albeit unfolded) laundry at all...these things are so huge.  Gargantuan.  Because all I want to do is find a rock to crawl under.  No, some woods to go hide in. 

I want to set up a tent with no one around for miles.  I want to hike so far that my legs buckle, I want to be in the middle of nowhere so I can take my shirt off if I want and feel the wind and sun on my body.  I want to be rained on.  I want to get my hands and feet all dirty and muddy.  I want to have the smell of green things filling my nostrils and my pores.  I don't want to have anyone to talk to.  I want to be able to cry to the stars and even wail and not worry about who hears.  I want to strip and swim naked at night with the moon shimmering wavy on the water...I want to hide.  And I don't get to. 

So I write.  And stare, and struggle to find my smile.  And put one foot in front of another.  Over and over.

something like this could be a good choice...

like a bad dentist visit for my soul

I struggled so much this week.  I have let go of some of the inappropriate things I was doing for support.  They have been replaced my nothing but myself.  So the barricades are down and the waves crashing onto my shore are threefold what I thought I would face.  Or something like that.  Either way, I had three anxiety attacks in one day, found myself breathing deeply to avoid yelling, and finally had to take a mental health day on Friday. 

Today was like being dipped in Novocaine and drilled on.  We went to Adventure Park for a birthday party.  Last time we were there was the last little playful adventure we had with John.  I remember how hard it was to maneuver through everything with him on the wheel chair.  I remember constantly having to lift his left arm and put it in his lap so that it would not bang on things.  I remember how crooked his smile was, with the muscle weakness intensifying, and how hard that made it for me to truly enjoy his smile.  Then we went to the memorial service for my friend's father.  I didn't cry.  I did get tears in my eyes.  The quotes that she and her husband ended their speeches with  wonderful.  The service wasn't too long.  But my head was spinning, leaving me a little dizzy.  The exhaustion that lays on my shoulders feels elephantine.

Somewhere in the deep center of my chest, I think I can feel the place that proves I will get through this period of pain.  I can't really explain that.  Nor can I really reach it.  But it is there.  And if I am wrong, and it isn't there, I have to make it.  I have to build it into that tiny hollow space, make it grow and get stronger, choose the color, the size, the shape...

Aiden asked me this morning if I am used to not having Daddy now.  I told him I am not.  He said "I am."  We talked about how he will miss his dad at different times throughout his life.  We talked about how we had different relationships, that he was their dad, but my husband.  He was my favorite grown up human being in the world.  And Neil has been talking about his dad, too.  He has said that Daddy is in his heart, that he doesn't want me to to die.  My little three year old is thinking of these things at random moments in our day.  Plus, at the service today, Aiden was asking questions about if what was coming was going to be like when his dad died.  How is it that I live in this bizarre, alternate reality?  I never had any sort of plan.  I never said that I wanted a guy like x, y, and z.  I didn't have a plan for how old I would be when I got married, how many kids I would have, or any of those things.  I never even dreamed of what my wedding would be like, until after John proposed.  But I never expected something like this.  And I just do not know what to do with this. 

I do not want to be alone.  Not for five years, not for eleven, most certainly not for my life.  But I just don't know how I will ever find someone that will love me through the ruins that surround my heart.  Through the insane anger that seems to permeate everything around me.  And at the same time, I do not want to be with someone, like in Some Kind of Wonderful, for the wrong reasons.  I would rather be alone that with someone who wasn't kind enough, patient, committed, funny, smart...whose crazy fit my heart well enough to reach the gaps in me.

And I have no clue how to find that kind of person.  I have no clue how to be a solo mom. I have no clue how to keep the house clean, the laundry done, be a wonderful teacher, keep my temper in control, care for the dogs...in short, I have no clue what I am doing.  I have no clue who I will be when this part of my journey settles enough that I can see around me.  I wish I had someone here, close enough to me, to help me remember some of the things that I want to be...but we all have our own journeys.  And many people love me.  But none enough to accurately help me with this.  It has to be me.  And I have learned to love myself and live well on my own in the past.  It's just that now I have three kids,  a teaching career, and soooo much more pain I have to deal with.  I have a good archetype to work with, a good foundation.  But I have no mason to help me build.  I have no guide, no compass, no active team of workers.  I have lovely random patrons and momentary hands to join my cause.  I am incredibly grateful for those...

But I am lonely, and I have many broken parts, and I am scared.  And angry.  And it is so damn hard. 

And it doesn't matter.  I have to keep going...I have our babies to care for. 

Will I ever be done?

too much time
feeling the lonely aches
not enough time
letting the pain through

till too much
piles up
and other things drift away
so...
all of a sudden
the world
               without him
seeps in

Reality creeps into
every pore
till there's no room left
for the tears I hadn't known
I was holding
inside.  Like someone turning
on a faucet
they come
and they don't stop
not for anyone

All the layers
of empty and full
twist and curl
combining in my head
writhing and convulsing
some alien creature growing

A woman says she is no longer
who she had been
which makes me wonder
who I am becoming

and how I will know
when I
finally have
become.

eternity in a moment

empty yourself
like pouring water from your soul
into a small and fragile cup

each moment that passes
is a moment farther
is a moment more
is a moment of strength

at times I am more empty than I
thought I would ever be able to bear
at times, I am so full I am an electric wire
overloading, sparking, smoking

what I want most of all is a hand
someone to reach out inside the insanity
offer balast
steady the tipping and trembling that touches
each moment
each breath

The only hand that matters
is mine

but mine are fluttering in vague patterns
not knowing what to do with themselves
dancing off rhythm, knocking things over

and what stands before me
is...
not what I expected...
confusing

I bite my lips
I sing a song
I change the diapers, kiss the booboos
and wonder

When I will wander
into a place of wonder
where someone, somewhere
will care
for me enough
that my hands settle softly at my sides. 

It should only take a moment
In the scheme of things

Something to look forward to...?

My homework assignment for my widows and widowers group is to write a list of things I can look forward to.  It seems that the idea is to CREATE...as in I need to understand that there aren't many things to look forward to within this gray cloud that I call life right now.  But even inside numbness, one can think of things that make them smile, focus on them, and deliver them to yourself.  I have been accessing a variety of awkward things that have helped.  Not all of them have been healthy.  And when I think of this assignment, I keep hearing crickets.  But I need to try.  I want to try.  I will try, because it would be like a gift from John.

So...good poets borrow, great poets steal.  Therefore, I shall take the list we were given, and tweak each one to make it mine.  I will make an honest attempt at leaving out the unhealthy things, and the things that would seem completely unrealistic for me.  Even though when I think about this, all of it seems pretty unrealistic.  I will try to let that go...

Read something off my kindle every day- whether it is a couple poems or a few pages in one of the books I started and have not embraced

Memorize an inspirational quote and repeat it to myself throughout the day

Sit outside in the evenings, if even for just a moment, and breathe in the dark

Buy myself flowers once a month

Light candles and/or incense every night

Remember to listen to music when I cook, bake, clean, or fold laundry.  Listen to lots of music, in general

Go to a movie without the kids once a month

(this is directly from the list)Select a picture postcard of Frederick and send it to a friend to encourage them to visit

Watch a movie with the kids, put the computer down, eat popcorn and snuggle.

Bake a special treat for myself and the kids, and plan a time to sit and enjoy it

Send a tiny, secret gift to someone I love...(I need addresses, people!)

Make a luncheon date soon with a friend and put it on my calendar

Pick out some jewelry or other small, nifty trinket to buy myself as a reward for getting through.

Listen to some more Eddie Izzard

Keep taking hikes with the kids

Buy myself a lotion that smells delicious and use it in the evenings before bed

And then I am supposed to have a summary statement.  

I suppose I would like to remember to reach out to friends and find ways to stay connected.  I would also like to do things for myself that make me feel beautiful and special.  I want to try to get out to do things on my own that I have always loved.  I want to remember to savor the beauty of the outdoors.  Nothing will take away the pain of not having John in my life.  But there are many different things that do make me happy.  I am not truly alone.  He would want me to be as happy as I could be, he always wanted me to love myself and to find joy.  There will be a small part of me that is always broken, because it is the link that tied me to him.  Just because that small part lies shattered, does not mean that I need to be broken in all areas...I will find a way through this only if I allow myself to make mistakes and simultaneously love myself for every step forward, flawed or not.  And it will be good to make loving choices along the way.  It will be good and it will be a way to honor the love he felt for me.  I think it would make him proud...