What I love about summer is there is time to slow and observe as a child observes.
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In Memoriam of you Dearest Daddy
I glanced at my fridge to a note that used to be posted on my dad’s fridge. It says: “it’s the singer, not the song,” and I wondered if he really got to sing all that he wanted…it crushes me to think how he was trapped in his body and couldn’t say a word. How I know there was so much more he wanted to do and couldn’t. I wish we could have gotten him back home…if so, would he have died peacefully like Rufus (his dear four legged friend)? Doing all he wanted to do?
I know he hated the nursing home life and when he could speak begged me to bust him out of there…it broke my heart to leave him there because I knew how much he loved his recluse home life. Life, and consequently death, is so cruel sometimes!
(I wrote this poem two days ago…it’s a little morbid…but it sure got me thinking how important it is to get your song out before you can sing the notes anymore.) ~Namaste my friends, and may your loved ones rest in peace as well.
The songbird lay lifeless before my feet.
Its neck broken.
Its body still.
Its voice silenced.
No more songs to come.
The world lost a bit of its sweetness
When your spirit fled.
Did you sing all your songs dear bird?
Did you sing every note you possibly could?
Or did some song remain stuck in your pretty little head;
And instead, you died of a broken heart because you
Could not get it out?
Alas my heart aches for you…for I am afraid to know…
Love is…
Michael from The Poetry Channel introduced me to this challenge, and I love both challenges and the topic of love. (I am a hopeless romantic.) I wrote it, but then I was gone all weekend. It may still need some tweaking, and I most certainly want to write another version, because well…you can’t talk enough about the magic of loving another beautiful soul, right?
Love exemplifies beauty
Love sings acceptance
Love envelopes harmony
Love connects spirits
Love IS…no words
Love breaks barriers
Love softens rigidity
Love bonds hearts
Love communes souls
Love IS… beyond words
Since I’ve been a little out of the loop and don’t have enough people to nominate to do the challenge, I am putting it out there for you to decide if you’d like to take the challenge on yourself. Here are the parameters. AND…happy writing!
And don’t forget to check out Michael. He’s a marvelous poet.
You’ll hear from me again on this topic. I’m positive!
Have a GRAND week.
Marie
The Black and White Writer
My dearest readers, you’ll love MIchael’s thoughts as he provokes you to examine your thoughts and opinions and take in yet another viewpoint. Things don’t always seem as they are. Enjoy! (and happy learning!)
What I’ve Learned About Aging and Dying
I’ve have been honored and blessed to get to spend time with my daddy in his last days. The community I work with has surrounded me with love and have stepped in to help with my students as I go through this process. It’s something I never thought I wanted to witness. But my daughter taught me, that while it’s painful to see a loved one aging and dying, it is also a blessing. Through watching her go through it, I am reminded that I still get to make memories; I still get to laugh and celebrate many moments.
Remember when your children were little, and you couldn’t wait to clap and cheer as they made their first steps, or ate their first solid food, or spoke for the first time? You and your spouse argue whether they said “mama” or “daddy” first? It’s like that. Each day we celebrate new things that we used to take for granted.
A good day for daddy this week was when he assisted with his getting in and out of bed. He had the energy, AND, most importantly he had a smile. He flirts with all the nurses. They ask for hugs and kisses, and he gives them back. That’s a celebration because he’s been sleeping so much and been so weak, he has hardly been able to hold his attention on anything.
Other celebrations, being able to feed yourself, being able to dance with your wheelchair to the beat of the music (even if it’s only rocking the chair back and forth. walking up and down the hail by scooting your wheelchair with your feet.
And music…music really is something that is appreciated by the elderly. They remember. They do! Sometimes it’s a finger tap or a toe tap…and sometimes, it’s a tear. But there’s a moment of remembrance…and those gray eyes twinkle for a moment. And even you are brought back to a moment in time…for me, it was this summer, getting lost with daddy in the car, when a four hour round trip became an eight hour round trip. We were headed for the coast…and got lost instead. I can’t ever remember being lost as so blissful…but it was just me and my daddy time…and it was perfect. We talked about just every day stuff…and it was good. Music can do that for you.
We’ve also gotten a chance to go for walks and see and hear the birds here. I saw my first red bird outside my daddy’s window this past winter. I remember he scooted his wheelchair with his feet to get a chance to see that bird…and though he couldn’t talk, his lips moved, and he “tweeted” again…which also reminded me of the summer which I wrote about before…they’re beautiful to listen to…their song like no other. Maybe I just hear things differently. I know that I see and feel things differently. I am blessed to make these memories with my daddy now…even though it’s a frail, broken body, ready for rest…there are still moments of beauty in our lives still waiting to be grasped. What is waiting for you?
One Word – Gratitude
Every year I choose one word to guide me throughout the year. It’s easier to remember one word than a slew of resolutions that I will probably break. With age, comes wisdom. Don’t get me wrong, I still set goals in each of the categories, family, career, health, etc., but the one word gives me a more centralized focus. I’m more apt to make my goals if I am specific, clear and realistic. I like moving forward; and this provides the perfect opportunity for me.
My word this year is GRATITUDE. I have been given so much. I must never forget that I have been blessed beyond measure, and that when something doesn’t go well, it’s a minor bump.
In my classroom, we have two days a week where we pick a word to focus on for the day. What’s nice about this is that it does keep goals clear for the kids. They are only 7, but they can remember words like respect and responsible and caring and outstanding. What if everything I did in my day was OUTSTANDING? Can you imagine the day you would have?
I passed by a quote the other day, I wish I would have written it down or gotten the author’s name, but it was something like this: Live as if everything is rigged in your favor. How positive is that?
And now, if every day is lived in pure Gratitude, anything new that I receive will be like frosting, right?
Happy New Year my dear friends, and may your day be filled with much joy and exciting adventures!
Namaste,
Marie
nice to finally have a name for my dancing style.
A dear blogging friend found this kind
of dancing. It’s a way to dance with
much soul joy! Thanks.
i believe i am qualified to teach a master class in this.
who’s in?
Love Your Peeps – A True Story of Alzheimer’s
Many of you know that I’ve been racing against time and Alzheimer’s in getting my dad’s story. Sadly, my time is coming to an end. This disease is so cruel.
Two weeks ago, I had sent my daddy two chapters of the book I was writing about him. I was excited because I had worked really hard on them, and listened carefully to his recordings to get things down just right.
It’s not easy to write about someone who’s feelings are tightly vaulted, and who has often been very critical in my life, AND he’s my father. I wanted to get it right. He called me and said, “Shame on you.” I freaked out wondering what I had said that could cause him to be upset. Had I gotten details wrong? Did I send the right story?
Then he continued. Sheepishly he said, “You made me cry. You wrote that as if you had been there.”
Inside, my heart was dancing. He liked it! I had gotten this most sacred portion of his story right! Yippee!
Then, he said the ultimate, something I’ve waited for all my life, “I am proud of you.” Shocked, I gasped and replied, “Thank you daddy. That means a lot to me.”
A little later he said I was a good writer. Yes, you can tell me that I really don’t need his approval, and I would agree…but there’s some part of a human that wants this approval. I was elated and on a high…The next day, I got the call that my dad had a stroke.
The moment was bitter sweet. I got to embrace the sweetness for such a short while. And then, I got to find out how unmerciful Alzheimer’s really is. And, I got to see some of it’s beauty.
I saw my dad as he must have been as a little boy…playful, fun, joyful. And then I saw it bring him to his knees.
He begged me to bust him out of the hospital…he knew,though no one had said anything to him. He knew that he would go from rehab to the nursing home.
—
So, I got to celebrate the small things, like dancing to Carole King’s, “I Feel the Earth Move under My Feet,” even if it was only one hand. I was grateful for any movement. It was joyous to see the joy in his face and know he could have some happiness in his life.
This past week when I called, he could only mumble undiscernible sounds. I could hear him try to communicate with me, but he couldn’t. Through the phone, I felt his disappointment, and it crushed me…we had had our own language, and now we had to learn a new language to communicate.
Throughout my busy week, it was conference week, I sent messages from my heart to my dad. And when it was my last conference on Thursday, I called again. I knew he couldn’t talk so I just talked on the phone while he made sounds…attempting to hear changes in tone or rhythm to see if I could understand. I was determined to find a way. But I didn’t succeed. I was grateful he at least knew I was there and could make some sound.
Then yesterday came…I was sure I had devised a way we could communicate and had created a signal he could use to let me know how he was doing…but yesterday, he couldn’t make a sound…Not one audible sound. The phone just laid there. I couldn’t even tell by his breathing how he felt. It’s funny that the little girl in me still wanted a physical connection. I kept talking in hopes he could still hear me. I believe he could, and I told him that I would see him in 4 days. It doesn’t feel soon enough because it’s happening so fast.
The moral of the story: Love your peeps…hold them tight, squeeze them tight, love love love them with all your might…you never know how long you have them. And be grateful…grateful for their touch, grateful for their smiles and movement, and yes, even their undiscernible sounds…because it’s still of the physical world, and it’s still a connection.
I love you daddy…hang in there until I can see you.
Ree
Flowers in the Fall
My Daddy
Many of you know that I am writing my daddy’s story, a Junkman’s Journey. And you know he is a vaulted man with Alzheimer’s and that the journey has not been an easy one, but we have found a beautiful road together and we have been finding the gold in each other.
Yesterday, he had a stroke, and he will be in the hospital a few days at least…maybe longer. What is difficult is that the left side of his body is not responding well, and his speech is slurred. But he’s hanging in there. I have been beyond blessed having the time I have had with him. The hard part is “Will I get to know more about him? Will he still have his memories?” I cherish any and all time I have…so I hope you know I’m not complaining. It’s just not easy when you finally get a peek in the vault and there’s a possibility that it will close forever. The good news is that I’ve gotten a chance to see the treasure, and I’ve gotten to have a chance to have more of a relationship that I ever hoped.
And lastly, the good news is that I had just sent him a couple of my chapters of his story for him to read. He said that it made him cry and that I described things in a way that made it seem I was there. It brought him back to the exact moment and all that he felt scared and happy and all were present when he read it. That feels good to know you have honored someone in a way that they deserve to be honored, especially when you are telling their story.
And for the first time, he said, “I’m proud of you.” No matter what, I have been so blessed to have these tiny moments of time with him that I never would have had, had I not asked those first questions.
Love on your people…all those precious people in your life…and ask them lots of questions!
Namaste my friends,
Marie
Writing Wings For You 
