It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." Thank you Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community of teacher-writers!
Expect the Unexpected
My friend shared how
a week after her parent’s burial
they left the door unlocked and
this stranger
walked into their home
without knocking
an elderly woman
dressed in fleece despite the heat advisory
she walked in circles in their living room
passionately sharing a rambling story
a best friend
a locked car
a game of hide and seek
My friend recognized her
as a neighbor from several blocks away
and they walked the confused soul
back to her own home
I thought to myself - of course this happened,
of course, of course, of course
It is the first days
surrounding the death of a loved one
‘the season’
When my own father died
three years ago
I experienced a heightened awareness of life
noticing a preponderance of
unexpected sights and situations
The world opened in new ways
everything askew
fractures, all around
mystery, awe, surprise, confusion, wonder
It’s as if you are living within
wild, unsettled lyrics of a Bob Dylan song
replete with unforeseen doorways,
mirrors, silver canes, false eyelashes
you’re starin’ at butterflies
(the italicized are fragments of
Lily, Rosemary, and the Jack of Hearts)
these are first days of a ‘newdeath’
a transcendent time
a way of being, much like first days of a ‘newborn’
this tender while
when the world becomes very different
the thin veil of curtain
of the great unknown
is pulled aside
yes, you feel
beginning with
the hush when you enter the home
the whispered voices and loving caresses
dear ones gathering
bringing food and flowers
moving softly, with great care
tears flow as you live
this raw edgy beauty
witnessing great loss
you pause and sob at wet mangled treasures from a stray cat
a death shrine amongst the flowers
and then again
at a young child’s scraped knee
needing
to wipe away pain
you see the hummingbird float across the yard
sense its sweet tremor
you feel familiar foreboding
throughout your body
when a friend tells how her loved one
broken and disoriented by dementia
undressed in front of a grandchild
you urgently call for help
when you turn the corner downtown
and find the stranger
slumped over
passed out
knowing
we are all connected
you follow the wisps of clouds across the blue moon
believing in more
you lay in bed and hear again
each stroke of the fumbling shovel
knowing love pours from dirt not held
and when you sit alone
you cradle a cup of hot tea
and listen
how soft the ordinary
how all is fragile
how every moment in time
tingles
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Early in the morning, this past Friday, I woke up so alert and I replayed every second of the day before – when my parents were buried at Arlington Cemetery. I ended up writing eight (8!) pages in my journal, as I tried to decompress. Let me share a poem about my wakeful thinking and this special day.
waking recollections
in dark of night
clarity
rushes through my mind’s door
holding
every memorable moment
every caring conversation
every tender touch
letting me
embrace these again
thoughts gather like an old engine warming up
sputtering spewing spitting
so many different directions
all at once
there we were at Arlington Cemetery
the day bright and clear
my four brothers and I
loving family and friends
to bury Dad and Mom
so many faces I had not seen
in years
new babies to meet
hugs kisses squeezes
waking recollections
in the dark of night
remember the waiting room -
just my brothers and I
the military escort
explaining logistics
how the procession works
my eyes fixating on boxes of tissue
the realization
this room held pain grief tragedy
young military lives lost
whereas we were here to honor
lives lived fully and long
outside in the parking lot
little ones danced and squealed
stories chuckles whispers shared
such a glorious day
my cousins, aunts, uncles
my parents’ cousins, too
so many friends from long ago
neighbors and colleagues
everyone here together
supporting us
the military service -
we walked behind the caisson
cannons fired from the hill
the honor guard in rapt attention
band marching, playing Taps
rifles fired in a 21 gun salute
while eight sailors held the flag
so reverently
over my parents’ urns
turning, folding, respecting
that moment -
the officer
handed the flag to me
saying
on behalf of the President of the United States
the United States Navy and
a grateful nation
please accept this flag
as a symbol of our appreciation for
your loved one’s
honorable and faithful service
he looked right at me as he spoke
and his eyes watered
leaving my eyes
his mirror
their resting place -
now they are nestled together
on the hill
under the tree
overlooking the cemetery
their great grandchildren play among the headstones
a fabulous celebration followed
in the officers’ club
like so many days long ago
it feels so ‘once upon a time’
those early years
when base life was my daily life
so much has changed
then and now
waking recollections
in the dark of night
remember we arrived early -
before the burial
and set everything up
the guard at the base gate
spoke with an accent
our armed forces, so diverse
the room came alive -
sweet memorabilia on the table
slideshow through the years
stories shared at the mic
spontaneous laughter and tears
so many conversations
so many relationships
intersecting
he tells me he was head of security
remembers me as a teenager
she tells me she’s my father’s cousin
and I am just like my mother
they tell me they are longtime friends
from my brother’s church
remember, too -
oh yes yes yes
she would love to have
her grandparents' china
what a story -
the coincidence of parking
next to them after so long estranged
the unopened letter now in their hands
and hope to heal this family hurt
remember how -
the room became so quiet
when I shared my poem
in the middle of the night
I am overflowing
let me sit with this word - recollection
let me hold in my heart
look closely at its middle: the word ‘collect’
we collect what we love, yes?
to re-collect
is to savor these treasures again
to use one’s thoughts
to gather these love moments again
to sift through them
like treasures on a beach
holding the best ones very close
waking recollections
in dark of night
clarity rushes through my mind’s door
holding
every memorable moment
every caring conversation
every tender touch
letting me
embrace these again
It’s Tuesday and I’m participating in the Slice of Life. Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community of teacher writers.
