Tell Me

Tell me that you understand,
Even though you can’t.
Tell me I can count on you,
Even though I won’t.

Tell me it will all work out,
That it’s getting better every day.
Tell me you don’t want for more,
Even though it’s not okay.

Tell me that you love me so,
And that our love is true
I may not always say it back,
Even so, I do.

~ smj

Strong Enough, by Sheryl Crow 

Perpetual Teacher

Are you still teaching

guilty lessons from the grave?

Why can’t I just learn?

~ smj

 

“You, who are on the road must have a code that you can live by.
And so become yourself because the past is just a good bye.

Almost Home

I’ve almost forgotten
what it feels like to walk
naturally sure and steady
without the constant click, click, click
of a cane that beats in time to my pace
accompanying every other annoying step
making me feel so old and less than
the woman, mother, person I once was.

I’ve almost forgotten
what it feels like to walk
without pain, with just my dog
and sometimes the moon following along
as we travel to the churchyard and back,
around the block, or to and through
our favorite woods, where the creek
is undoubtedly running high today.

The woods…
I’ve almost forgotten
what it feels like to walk
through their trees, with quiet sounds
that drown out the chaos, while earthy aromas
rise up from dirt paths that give way
to my footsteps, with or without leaves
shuffling or crunching along with us
as we move through our seasons.

I’ve almost forgotten
what it feels like to do
so many things I once loved,
but never really knew how much.
Like, how it felt to just be
the me that I once was – playful, strong, so full
of confidence and myself.  Maybe too full
yet still, underrated.

I’ve almost forgotten, almost.
And, what about you?
What do you see when you look
at me?  I know you miss me too, but
have you also almost forgotten? Do you remember
me at all? Can you even faintly feel the spring breeze
that smells like the woods, and calls to me by name?
It’s whispering to us, howling to us,
“don’t give up, you’re almost home”.

~ smj

“In every frame upon our wall lies a face that’s seen it all
Through up’s and down’s and then more down’s
We helped each other off of the ground
No one knows what we’ve been through
Making it, ain’t making it without you

Maybe I’m not but you’re all I got left to believe in
Don’t give up on me, I’m about to come alive
And I know that it’s been hard and it’s been a long time coming
Don’t give up on me, I’m about to come alive”

I’m About to Come Alive, by Train

Orphans and Mothers

“Mom?  Does this make you an orphan now?”

That was what my son asked me as we broke our embrace that night when I came home from the hospital.  He had already heard the news – his grandmother, my mother, had passed away.

Her passing was completely unexpected.  Quick.  She was gone before we even knew what was happening.  None of us got to say goodbye.  My son’s question caught me off guard, and I felt myself smile a sad smile in spite of the overwhelming pain that had sunk my heart deep into the pit of my stomach.

I looked down into my son’s big, blue eyes as they peered up into my own eyes, searching for – something.  I suddenly worried about what he might find. I didn’t want him to worry about me. That isn’t his job. I felt myself grow a little stronger, for him. As if i had to in order to be tugged back into his world.

My world had stopped up at the hospital. Again. It had come to a shocking halt, along with my mother. I felt numb. Everything was a blur. A bad dream you can’t escape from. Everything else just stops. Nothing else seems to matter.

But, now, my son’s worrisome gaze was forcing me to focus on him, and what he was thinking. How he was feeling. He mattered.

It wasn’t the first time he had played this role in my life.  When my father passed away year’s before, it was this same son, and the thought of how I needed to help him into this world, that kept me going. My father passed shortly before he was born. Everyone was so worried about me. They thought the stress of losing my father would just add too much stress to my pregnancy. But they didn’t know, was that it was just the opposite. Having a new life inside me to focus on that needed me was what kept me from spiraling into a funk.  And, now, he was forcing me to focus on him once again, and the question he had asked so tentatively –  was I an orphan now?

In a way, I felt like maybe I was….  but, no, that didn’t seem right.  Not really.  They don’t have a word for grown-ups who have lost both parents.  Do they?  I couldn’t think strait.  Hell, I could barely even wrap my head around the fact that both my parents were now gone.  I did feel alone.  Of course, I knew I wasn’t.  I had a husband who loved me, children I adore, and many other family members and good friends.  But, they are not my parents.  I mean, really, nobody loves you like your mother or father does.  Nobody.

It’s a strange feeling to suddenly not feel like you have that kind of love, and even support, in your life.  Your parents are your biggest fans.  Well, at least mine were.  Even if your relationship isn’t the best… they are still your mother… or father… and there may be a lot more good there than you really appreciated.   Maybe for some, that is not true.  I feel bad for them… but, for most of us – there is deep love there.  Myself included. Oh, I admit my relationship with my mother was strained at times – but, there was never any doubt that she loved me, and vice versa.   I am thankful for that. And, I don’t think anyone can fully understand just how deep feelings and connections with parents run, until that connection is actually severed.

I tried to concentrate, and stared back into my son’s sympathetic, inquisitive, eyes that had not left my face.  He was obviously feeling sorry for me. Apparently, he knew enough about orphans to know it wasn’t a good thing.  He also knew my father had passed away years ago – a few months before he was even born.  My father’s passing had been anything but unexpected, or quick.   My younger son never got the chance to meet him.  But, he had heard all about him.  I told him so many stories about his “Pa”,  that he felt like he knew him.  He grew up knowing how much I loved my father.  I tried to tell him funny stories, and talk about happy memories.  But, I’m sure it probably wasn’t hard to see that I also missed my father.  Now, my son was worried about me missing my mother too.

“No, honey.  This doesn’t make me an orphan”, I told him with a little smile, trying to ease his worried mind.

He only stared up at me sadly. He said nothing, but his eyes were searching my face, obviously still concerned, and also still questioning.  He wanted to understand the answer to his question.  Normally, I’m all about improving my children’s vocabulary, and as we would read a book, I never hesitated to stop to answer questions, or discuss the meanings of words.  But, I didn’t feel like explaining, this time.  Still, I felt he deserved an explanation.  Some things in life do not change, even when we feel like our whole life has just changed.  Being a mother is one of those things.

So, I explained that an orphan, refers to a child who does not have any parents.  And, that since I was all grown up, I was not an orphan.  I told my son that I was fortunate to have had a caring mother and father for my whole childhood, and well into my adult life.  Not long enough…  never long enough…  but, still, longer than many.  And, so, no, I did not consider myself an orphan.

My son still looked concerned, but seemed content with my explanation.  He added one more word to his ever-expanding vocabulary.

I added a few more reasons to the mental check-list I was working on, titled, “Reasons I Can’t Completely Loose It“.   I realized I had a few really good reasons, actually.  Both of my boys for starters.  They alone are good reason for most things I do.   Add to that the fact that it’s not their job to worry about me.  It is my job to try to make them feel better… and to help them understand things…  Not to mention to help develop their vocabulary.

In the end, my children help me more than they can ever know.

I hope my parents would say the same of me.  I wish I could help them more now.  I wish I hadn’t been such a pain in the ass when I was younger.  I hope my Mom knew I loved her so much, even when I didn’t act like it.

I miss them both so much.

 

 

Where Love Still Remains

Some things, they say,
like certain favorite dishes,
are better after you let them stew,
and rest, bringing on deeper flavors to enjoy.

Sometimes, I’ve found,
it takes time, and a willingness
to try again, and again.  A strong desire
to not only not give up, but to also make things better.

Some people, I know,
like you, my love, are able to change
themselves, and other people’s minds,
like mine.  Surprisingly, against all odds, they move past
the past, to a new place where love still remains, and grows.

~ smj

To my honey… 
I’m glad you’re still the one…

Shania Twain – Still the One