Writing Wings For You

Marie Lukasik Wallace ~ # I LIVE Poetry – I'm passionate about life and writing and all things creative and poetic!

Tag Archives: dying


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It’s the Small Things

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When I wrote, “Where are you Daddy?”  I was really lost.  It seems like a rollercoaster of emotions this grieving thing.  I don’t like it much…but I understand the need for it.  I also know that there is beauty and glory in all of it.

It’s the little things that remind me of him…my daddy.  My sister and I balled when we went to his house and saw peppermints  on the counter.  He always had them with him in his pocket.  You see my dad quit smoking 30 years ago, and his peppermints replaced that habit…so you can imagine, he always had a pocketful.  Then, my sister taught him how he could let the grand kids sneak up on his lap and steal one out of his pocket.  We built those memories together.  At the same time, he also replaced beer with Sam’s cola.  So, if we were at the store, he would ask us to get him beer & cigarettes…cola and peppermints.  What fond memories.

I still hear him through music, even if it’s music we didn’t listen to together.  Sometimes it’s the emotion or feeling that will zip right to my heart and remind me of him.   Last summer on a road trip, and when he was in the nursing home, we listened to a lot of Carole King, Tapestry.  He sure loved that album…I listened to it over and over while he would sleep.  What a brilliant, soulful woman who gets to the heart of everything.   While I listened, I KNEW which songs would be at his funeral…funny thing is that others have used “Way Over Yonder” for funerals before…and I never knew it.  I just knew that at that at the time my daddy was in the most pain of his physical body, I prayed for his sweet release and told him he could visit “yonder” anytime he wanted…and that his mama and papa would greet him.  And I also knew that the song “I Feel the Earth Move Under my Feet” would be played at the end…because my daddy would want people dancing, not crying.  Even the last week of his time on earth, when he could barely move, he would rock in his chair or tap a finger to that song.  It will always be our song.

I believe with all my heart that he graces me with his loving presence every day.  I just get to be still and listen and look.  It will be in the little things, the song of a bird, a dog that looks like his, or maybe even a Sam’s Cola.

 


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Where are You Daddy?

lily

I selfishly let you go…

They tell me you are at comfort and peace

now that you’ve let go of your earthly restraints.

I believed them.

For awhile.

You see, you and I have, on many occasions

connected by heart.

Why would the spiritual and physical world

be any different?

At first, I heard you everywhere,

especially in my music.

As the words slipped the singers

mouth, I felt they were the vehicle

for you to send me messages.

And now, as the rituals are over

and daily life begins back,

I feel less an less connection.

Are you truly comforted my daddy?

Are you truly at peace?

Whisper to me my daddy…

My heart desperately needs to know.


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My Daddy’s Sweet Release

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photo courtesy of Travis Jessop

 

My daddy finally received his sweet release from this world.

And now his journey continues…but without it’s restrictive form.

I was reminded this week by a dear fellow blogger, Michael,

of an old poem I read when I was younger.  My dad might

have even shown it to me.  It’s the perfect poem for my

poet friends.  Thank you for all your support in this difficult

time.  It’s bittersweet.  But am grateful for his peace.

Good friends knowing that both my daddy and I love

words, especially poetry, have offered some beautiful

gold nuggets…I will, if I can, pass them along this week,

or at least weekly.  Thanks for loving his sweet spirit.

A Thousand Winds

Do not stand at my grave and weep.

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there. I did not die. – Mary Elisabeth Frye


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For you My Daddy – What I Learn from you as You Leave this Mortal Life

My heart is so small
it’s almost invisible.
How can You place 
such big sorrows in it?
 
“Look,” He answered,
“your eyes are even smaller,
yet they behold the world.”  ~ Rumi ~

As you know, I’ve been writing about my daddy and how I had been developing a relationship with this vaulted man, and I began writing his story.  All the while, making daily phone calls, having to get through not only the emotional vault, but the dreaded disease of Alzheimer’s and its effects of fear of people trying to harm him and steal from him.  I took whatever morsels I could get because I knew a little of my dad was better than what many people get, and it was a legacy of stories for my kids and grandkids.

In October, I sent my dad an excerpt from the book so I could see if I was hitting the mark, capturing his story the way he wanted it to be told.  When I received the phone call, I could hardly wait to get feedback to see if I had hit the mark and know where to take the story next.  But I also braced myself for if he hated it.

“Hello dad, how are you?”  I said holding my breath.  His first words were strong and harsh, “Shame on you.”   My heart sunk.  Wow.  I had not expected that.  ‘What had I said?  What was so wrong? ”     He replied, “You made me cry.”  I heaved a huge sigh of audible relief.  I really wanted to get his story right.  He also told me that I had written it as if I were there.  This is my first time writing ANYONE’S story, so it was scary…even scarier because it was my dad.  He told me he was very proud of me..and that he was looking forward to reading more of my story.  The next day, my dad had a stroke.  He couldn’t talk well at all.  The left side of his face was sagging, so his speech was slurred.    My heart crushed again…because my dad’s story book was closing…and I would no longer have access to it.    Within a few days, my dad could not talk at all.  We think he had several more mini strokes..because it was odd we couldn’t hear some except some basic whispers of basic conversatioins.

So now, three months later, my dad still can’t talk.  It’s so very sad…and very difficult to watch.  He knows what is being said all around him, but he can’t communicate his basic needs, nor can he communicate his feelings.  He can no longer write…and even the simpliest communication boards don’t serve him well.

The silver lining is that each day he loses something, and I am more grateful for what I was able to hold onto the day before…which reminds me to just be as present as possible today.

As I go through this process, a million thoughts are writing across my brain.  I feel them…I try to grasp them…but I am clumsy.  However, I KNOW the power of words..and I KNOW they will heal…and I trust that my dad and I still have a few adventures left in us…I am optimistic.  I am grateful.  I am blessed.

Thank you dear God for the blessings, even in these tragic, heart breaking moments.  Let us both find peace and beauty and yes, still some laughter.  That’s what my daddy does best.

Take care my friends,

love your peeps.

Marie