Sweet Grief

Sweet Grief

Love continuing cycle
loss and renewal
 hope and despair

Love continues beyond the grave
Beyond the short time we see
reaching through the mists of eternity
to tug our heart string

in moments of silence
   we hear them
      we feel them
         calling to us
vibrations of earlier songs

gratitude
work
owe them ourselves

to become what is possible

The last ride of Sam-Wise Padfoot

The last ride of Sam-Wise Padfoot

With Princess Arwen he was conveyed
to the place to be carried away
Grey Havens

years of loyal service
companion in good and bad
A mighty warrior
to share the load

Lambis bread in my pockets
I didn't keep any
for the return trip
for the Eagles would bear him hence

the sweetest baby
always at my feet
side by side
layers of black fur
worn down teeth with brown centers
he laid down and was petted
matted fur, cataracts
shaking legs
always wanting to be with me

safe from pain
he slipped away
the unending isles

Hope

I'll see you next spring
after the snow melts
      trees begin to bud
      tulips bloom
when the days are longer
      warm wind whispers
you are here

You'll wrap your arms around me
     make promises of dawn
your warmth I'll feel around me
     forget that you are gone

Old Sam

Old Friend Sam

I wonder if he just died
until I see his chest fall and rise
black fur on the floor
always at my feet
His eyes watch me
darting back and forth
to see around cataracts
matted fur shakes
with each breath
Sam

3 ways

This same poem has been written many ways- here are a few

My last touch with you
seeking the comfort of your heat
entangled around and through
plastic tubes and wires
beeping and buzzing

drowning out your breathing
nurses running in and out
asking questions, interrupting
I can not share with you
thoughts circling in my mind

. . .

When I hugged out
I wondered
is this what it will be like

when you die?
my last touch
entwined and around plastic tubes

beeping and buzzing
distract me
from the rhythm of your breath
nurses run in and out
I can not open up

for fear my heart will bleed out
can't discuss, think
thoughts circling in my mind

 . . .
hugged you
between us
your headset

like this
will you die?

last touch
entwined
plastic tubes
beeping and buzzing

can't hear
you breathe
nurses in and out
I can't
   talk
   think

Grief

wrinkled, tear stained face
looking at his hands

across the grass
a grave he knows too well

his tears had watered the flowers
he had planted

he knees won't bend anymore
so he won't kneel
unless he chooses not to get up again

a tempting thought today
to lay down there and stay

Beauty of Life

Part of the beauty of our lives, 

is that we survive it all; 

the mistakes, 

the happenstance, 

other people's choices.

Speaker for the Dead

Ever read Orson Scott Card's Speaker for the Dead? It is the very end of the Ender Games series. So Ender goes where asked and researches and speaks the full truth of the dead's life. The beauty in the speaking is finding the humanity in the mistakes and lives of the dead.

I feel that I am attempting to do that for my Grandmother, preparing to share her history at her celebration of life. But, unfortunately, I do not have the time to interview all involved and search up the truth of all her actions. For much we know only as much as public record searches will reveal. Which on the parts of her life she spoke the least about, so do the records.

Unfortunately, we end up editing her life. How sad, to edit a life. Some may feel we are doing this to make it "Acceptable" or"safe". but that is not the purpose. All of her mistakes, all of her hard times made her into what she is. They all gave her experience and will ultimately work for her good.

But, unlike Ender, I only have about 10 minutes to speak, not unlimited time. But I will endeavor to speak her truth, which like all lives, ultimately point to the beauty of the great plan, the plan of happiness, of redemption through Christ of both sin and death.

But I am not Angry

Death of a person who lived a good long life does not anger me. It the promise of mortality, that it comes with an ending. It is bittersweet. For I miss my grandma dearly. My heart is drawn out in gratitude for that amazing woman and the life she has led. She was a great example.

The last couple years I often stopped on the way home from school. Sometimes she was out to lunch with her friends or playing cards, and she didn't want me. Other times I was able to sit and talk and show off my baby (#8). She loved to hold him when she was able. I was able to sweep her floor and do little acts of service, although it was never possible to do enough to fill the debt I felt to her.

I wasn't there when she passed. I should have visited her in the hospital before we left on vacation. It is a regret of mine, but she was happily surrounded by wonderful family, even without me. Motherhood of 8 gives you a unique perspective on individuals' involvement in your life. You learn to accept and love them when they are there, and to love whoever is around when they are not. There is always somebody who needs your love, and usually, they are the one in front of you.

But with her passing, I finally have an opportunity to serve her in an eternal way. Finally, there will be something I can do that will be as useful to her as she was to me. My mom and I can take her name to the Temple and do her ordinances and then seal her for time and eternity to her parents, her husband, and my dear aunt Katy. All of which were waiting for her and were there to welcome her to heaven in a big embrace.