Grief’s Birthday Wish

Another birthday I mark in your absence
It’s no easier than the last
I wish, I wish, I wish
A wish that can not be
So, am I to be content with this simple expression?

It seems that is my fate until it isn’t
Your absence left a void impossible to fill
I wish, I wish, I wish
I think we both know what I wish
So, am I to mark these years with sadness and longing?

How does one celebrate a birthday that isn’t?
Just by remembering you on your special day?
I wish, I wish, I wish
A wish that’s just too big
So, instead I’ll think of you, of all you were and still are

I know you’ll feel my love for you on your birthday
The same way we still share our love everyday
I wish, I wish, I wish
I’ll go on wishing anyway
So, today instead of sadness, in my heart I’ll sing to you and watch you smile


The Christmas Pendulum

Christmas is near
Full of sadness and cheer
Decking the halls and jingling bells
Special drinks from hidden wells

Tears drawn out by revelry
Singing songs in melody
Feeling like tangled lace
Putting on my happy face

Tis the season for mixed emotion
All I want is to be at the ocean
To feel the breeze and taste the salt
Maybe then I won’t feel at fault

Memories of Christmases past
Make the present overcast
Yet to be present is my goal
Enjoy a little happiness without coal

Letting Go

What do you do when you can’t let go of toxic emotions, fear, and endless swirling negative thoughts? What do you do when you can’t let go of pain, from all sources, that keeps you in an endless loop of heartache and misery?

Seriously, I would like to know the secret of truly and fully letting go of something.  I am not sure I ever have completely let go of anything.  This clinging is what has compounded over the years to produce my current state of ill health.

I still suffer from the illnesses I’ve talked about in my posts, which in this post shall be referred to only as the illnesses.  I’m not attempting to take anything away from their cause and effects, rather, I am linking them to a root or major contributing factor in their development.

I came to the realization that in some way they are all rooted in my inability to let go.  To let go of fear, grief, and pain is something I strive to do everyday, with every therapy session and with every thing I read or listen to.  Try as I might it doesn’t seem to be enough.  My intellectual self is aware of the impermanence of life and I try constantly to be present in the moment.  I think I’ve made great strides in that regard.  Yet, I find I cling to the past as a person clings to the edge of a building, afraid to fall.

This clinging to the past, to my grief and to my pain feeds the fear.  I am afraid to fall.  I fear what is around the next corner, my next step, tomorrow and the days beyond.

If I am being honest with myself, my personality is heavily slanted to these behaviors.  I am stubborn, persistent, relentlessly curious, and obsessed with finding answers.   In many ways throughout my life these qualities have served me well professionally and personally.  What once helped propel me through life is now taking my life away,

I can’t change my personality so what I am looking for is a way to adapt my personality traits, how I utilize them, and how I emotionally react to them to better serve the current situation and the person I am now.

I’m participating in a new therapy approach that I believe is guiding me on a path that will enable me to better let go of things.  I’ll have more on my experiences with EMDR in my next post.

Love, light & peace….always

Grief and The Pain of Mother’s Day

Time is meaningless, it flies by and it stands still.  Time is not kind, in fact, it’s kinda cruel.  It’s almost Mother’s Day, the day set aside to honor one’s mother.  Honoring one’s mother is a personal preference; not all mothers are worthy of honor, or respect, or love.  I don’t know what it’s like for someone on Mother’s Day, or any other day, to have a mother they would rather forget.

I have been fortunate to have a good, kind, and caring mother.  She will be gone two years shortly after Mother’s Day.  As if Mother’s Day doesn’t hurt me enough by her absence, I have the anniversary of her death to look forward to two weeks later.

The expression “time heals all wounds” is a lie.  Time has not dulled the pain I feel.  It has not lifted the fog I sometimes find myself in and it has not healed my loss.    I miss my mother the same today as I did yesterday and will tomorrow.  My grief doesn’t recognize a clock and it has no expiration date.  It just is. It ebbs and flows in a cycle beyond my control.

I love and honor my mother no less on the other 364 days of the year.  I honor her in the memories I recall, full of life’s laughter and tears.  I honor her in the respect I have for all she did for me throughout my life.  I honor her by striving to live true to the lessons, wisdom, and morals she instilled in me.

Yet Mother’s Day was and still is special to me.  I took pleasure and care to reaffirm my love and gratitude to my mom.  Whether I was near or not it was something I looked forward to doing.  It didn’t always have to be a brunch, a gift, or even a visit but it was always special words and a special heartfelt expression of love.

I still honor that tradition,  just in a different way and right now with more sorrow than happiness because I miss her so much.    Although I know I will always miss her,  I hope one day those emotions will reverse, but that time hasn’t come yet.

My mother lives in my heart, where she guides me through the pain of grief, and it’s there I honor her every moment of every day.



Raw and Exposed


The protective earthen cover has eroded and laid these roots bare, raw, and exposed to the elements.  I randomly went to this little pocket park to get away for some alone time to reflect, cry, and release the emotions that had sent my anxiety skyrocketing.

As I walked among the trees absorbing the healing vibrations of the earth, air, sun, and plant life,  it became clear that what lay before me were my feelings made manifest in nature. The universe in her wisdom gave me a visual aide with which to equate my feelings.

I wonder if the bare roots adapt and continue to keep the tree alive, and if so for how long?  I wonder the same thing of myself sometimes; do I have the strength within to regain what has been laid bare or lost?    I haven’t the answer to either question but can’t help thinking that maybe the questions have already been answered.

Just Another Morning..

I woke up abruptly from a dream I can’t remember. I’m anxious. I Try to remember the dream. Was it a flashback dream? Traumatic and graphic, filled with all the questions that still linger. Was it a dream of grief? Was my mother in it, still vibrant and alive. Sometime I have dreams where I feel she is trying to tell me something.

This morning it was about my mother, although I can’t remember the specifics. I just woke up missing her; sad and with a tear falling from my eye. It’s frustrating when I can’t recall the specifics but I am sure she was here, as she always used to be. Even if I can’t visually recall the dream, the emotions are real and raw. I miss her.

The anxiety doesn’t diminish as I become fully awake. It must be around my usual waking time. Time to take medications and get out of bed. Before I do I get a memory flash of the first time a panic attack reoccured for me after so long an absence.

I was at work, walking outside when it hit. I had just been on the phone listening and learning about my mother’s illness. Everything would be alright, it didn’t seem too serious; yet as I walked I became dizzy, stumbled, and couldn’t breathe. I made it back inside and sat at my desk, cold and shivering. I needed to go home and face what I was certain would be at least an onset of illness, and at worst certain death. I didn’t want it to happen here at work. I excused myself and drove home. White knuckled and scared, I somehow made it home to my apartment. I collapsed into bed and slept. The panic abated.

In hindsight I know that first new panic attack happened because I was worried about my mother. I felt helpless so far away, even though I knew she was in good hands. Surely I must have been overreacting.  At the time I suppose I was,  but things would turn out differently.  Her illness took many twists and turns.   I panicked at each phone call and update; and there would be many of both.

I had forgotten that first new attach just as I sometimes forget my mother is no longer with me. This morning I sit with grief. I miss my mother more than words can ever express, and I miss my life before that first new panic attack more than anyone will ever know.

All that’s left to do this morning after writing out these thoughts and feelings is sit with my tea, try and release some pain, and let my tears flow. This morning, like many mornings, I practice the art of silent crying.

I Will Cook A Turkey Today

I will cook a turkey today
through a tear I’ll remember
the way my mother taught me how
maybe I’ll smile with memories of times past

I will cook a turkey today
given to me by the kindness of strangers
I but one of the masses in the line of those in need
yet still, I am one with more than many

I will cook a turkey today
remembering those with whom I stood side by side
I’ll remember too those who have so little
they are unable to stand in line

I will cook a turkey today
in search of normalcy and comfort
to uphold tradition
to connect me with family and friends,  gone or afar

I will cook a turkey today
and look beyond my own problems
grateful for all the universe has provided me
yet grieving for those suffering around the globe

I will cook a turkey today
when there are those who haven’t a turkey
or a home, a country, freedom, or equal rights
those whose plight is unimaginable to me

I will cook a turkey today
and I will express my gratitude for what is near and dear to me
but my heart will swell and ache for humanity
and I will wonder why I cook a turkey today