Grief, Death and Dying

What follows is a combination of poetry written after my son's death by suicide and writing during the journey of my mom's death from kidney disease.

Being Tender With Myself

Taking my time
Allowing the tears
Not pushing too hard
Simple walks outside
no big agenda
simply being present
Watching out the window
still or windy
birds flying by
clouds floating 
or filling the sky
taking it all in
Taking forward steps
but small gentle ones
no guilt included
Surrendering to what I need
right here, right now
a handful of chocolate chips
a glass of wine
asking to be held
letting the tears slip out
snuggled in a big blanket

Poetry
Wild Hearts
Grief, Death and Dying

For the Woman I Never Knew

You wore colors, 
oh so many colors
You wove a connecting thread
through scattered bits of family
binding us all into one
You gave of your time, talent and dollars
to help those less fortunate
and support your community
You were strong and independent
and maybe a bit stubborn
and once you made a choice
you saw it through no matter the cost
You quietly built a life
anyone could be proud of
and in the end, you left 
a legacy of love and wisdom
For me, you were just mom

Poetry
Grief, Death and Dying

What Have I Rebuilt?

I sit in vigil
as my Mom 
lies in the next room
waiting for death
to carry her away
from her failing body
Two and a half years ago
I sat with family
as we set my son's remains
deep into the earth
it has been a period
of deep grieving
and swift change
within our family
What have I rebuilt?
After my son's death
I took a deep dive
into the depths of my soul
looking for clues
feeling the misery
of failed parenting
lack in building a man
who could survive

Poetry
Wild Heart
Grief, Death and Dying

When Do You Feel Most Brave

And if I don't? 
bravery has been replaced
by survival
is it brave
to hold myself together
to walk this road
from life to death
to hold the hand
of one who is leaving
to look her in the eye
and know the end
it's all about time
letting go
while holding on
wanting to scream
but saying I love you
is it brave
to stay
when I want to run
to keep loving
when the embrace is cold
to stay
when I can no longer connect
I don't seem to have space

Poetry
Wild Heart
Grief, Death and Dying

A Garden Path

Garden path

Our home sits at the top of a long sloping hill. In front of the house is a steep area. The previous owners put down weed block and covered the hill in lavender. It's beautiful, but I don't like weed block. It suffocates the soil and doesn't allow the natural flow of nutrients. It also meant anything in the way of wood chips ended up at the bottom of the area. It was also almost impossible to navigate.

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