It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life."
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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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The days after a “newdeath” can be so traumatic. We travel this world being a part of it yet not being a part of it. Our mind tries to grasp the reality of the situation, yet not really aware of what is happening around us. Your poem beautifully conveys this feeling of not feeling.
Yes, you are filled with this feeling of ‘not feeling’ – and yet, you end up feeling all these new, weird, unexpected things. It is such a time of transition. Thank you!
Maureen,
This is so powerfully unsettled. Thank you for sharing. It seems like it should be part of a collection of your poetry, which I would root for. “these are first days of a ‘newdeath’” Thank you for sharing.
I love this idea, Denise! I wonder how often I have written about grief and death … I should compile these in one place. Thank you!
This is so beautiful. We all need help navigating “newdeath.”
“…how soft the ordinary / how all is fragile…” Yes, yes, yes.
I feel like I’ve had a deep experience reading this poem. There is so much here. Thank you.
Thank you, Steph – I definitely started thinking very deeply about this. Seeing my friend go through this big loss, after I had done three years ago …there were so many parallels, so many strange, new feelings.
This is a beautiful piece of writing. Thank you.
Thank you!
Maureen, this is so moving! I have been there in that state. I remember telling people the wrong sheet sizes to bring for a lodge we were using to gather for Mom’s funeral. I assigned rooms, wrote down sheet sizes, and then people showed up with the wrong sizes (some of them switched). I could not function.
Last week, my colleague lost her father. One week to the day, her step mother died. And her mother is not well now. She came to work because she didn’t want to cry all day at home. She’s floundering a bit.
I love this line best: you pause and sob at wet mangled treasures from a stray cat
Oh, so true. The least little thing sets you off for no reason when you’ve lost someone close.
Yes, thank you, Kim – it is a very different state of mind, to be experiencing the death of a loved one, to walk through those days.
The way you described this gave me pause and caused me to reread.
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
I’ve watched my husband navigate the past 2.5 months without his mom. I feel like you’ve captured quite a bit of what I’ve witnessed. It takes time to let deep loss wash over you. I cannot imagine.
I watched my husband navigate the loss of his parents many years before I lost my own – and it was/is hard. There is nothing else like it – except, I think, there is a parallel with the way our world is upended with the birth of a baby. Strange new time, opening up so many new emotions/feelings. Thank you, Stacey.
Maureen, this is a beautiful, raw, powerful piece. ‘Newdeath’ and ‘newborn’ mark time in such profound ways. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you!