February 2, 2015

For days they warned us

That the snow would fall

That the winds would blow

That the world would come to an end.


Their forecasts

Their stupid forecasts

Kept us at home

To keep us safe


But they kept us away

From you.


And finally the snow did fall

And the winds did blow

But not so much

And the world did not come to an end


Except it did.

Because the phone rang

And the doctor said you were gone

You had slipped away



As the snow came down

And the winds blew

And our tears fell.


They say more snow is coming

It is so cold

And I cannot have your arms around me

I cannot put my arms around you

But you will be my blanket

I will wrap you around me

every day of my life

and I will be warm

and I will be loved

we will be loved

by you




An Unburdening

January 18, 2015

I didn’t want to tell you

I didn’t want to burden you

And thought that I should be strong enough

But I’m not

Because this is too much to carry

By myself.

And so I’m going to tell you

how hard it is

To lie down next to my mother

To know her pain

To hear her try to speak and not be understood

To not know if she will hear my words.

And so we look into each other’s eyes

And my eyes say I love you I love you I love you

And I imagine her eyes saying those words back to me

But what I really hear is Help me. Save me. I am suffering.

And I am helpless

And she is helpless

And I search for something to soothe her.

I cover her with kisses

And tickle her arms knowing that my tickles will never be

as good as my mother’s

Because my mother is the best tickler in the world.

I put on music

Opera which my parents tortured me with as a child

And I beg please Pavarotti sing my mother to sleep

And finally my mother sleeps

And I snuggle up next to her with the rails of her bed digging into my back

I feel so small squeezed into this little space beside her

And I cry and cry

Not wanting my mother to go

but so desperately wanting her to be free

To be free from pain in her body and her mind and her heart

Free from

this life that is not a life


Beautiful Ugly

October 18, 2014

So much has happened in the past four months, I have hardly had time to process it all. Instead, the thoughts are crowding my brain, bumping into each other, making so much noise that they wake me up at night, interrupt me at work, and threaten to ambush me at any time, leaving me with not one moment to rest. What I wrote about last time, my mother’s diagnosis of cancer, is only part of the story. The other part is everything else, everything else that really matters.

My mother is very beautiful. She has always been beautiful, the kind of beautiful that was annoying when you’re her awkward, less beautiful teenage daughter, but I’m over that now. When my mother was diagnosed with cancer, I made up my mind that the last part of her life would be beautiful. That she would come to live with me and she would be surrounded by her loving family, and that would bring her comfort and make her feel safe. That is not what happened, but we had our moments. My mother and I had conversations I will never forget, filled with tears and hugs and kisses and sweet words. My mother forgot those conversations within three minutes. Still, there is a part of me that believes, that knows, she felt them and the love seeped into her mind and her heart and if she could not recall the moment, she could at least recall the feeling.

It’s a blessing, some people say, of my mother’s lack of short-term memory, of her inability to remember she has cancer. It is not a blessing. It is not a blessing to feel sick, to feel weak and confused and not remember why. It is not a blessing to wake up in your daughter’s home and not know where you are, to believe you’re already in a nursing home, or worse, being held prisoner. It is not a blessing to not remember that your brother or your daughter or granddaughter or grandson or niece or friend spent the day with you. It is not a blessing to be losing your mind and to know that it is happening.

And so, I am sitting here feeling all the ugliness of cancer and dementia and loss in so many forms and my mother, my beautiful mother who I felt was leaving me a long time ago, offers me a gift in a moment of my complete despair.

I visited my mother at the nursing home, after I had been away for a few days. I found her lying in her bed, very sick, nearly unconscious, hooked up to oxygen and looking like she was dying. I crawled into bed with her and silently I wept. I had not cried in front of my mother in a very long time. I had shed some tears when we told her she had cancer, but she quickly forgot, so I could not stay in my sadness. But this time, because I thought my mother was asleep, I allowed myself to weep, and soon I was trying to stifle my sobs, gulping them down so as not to wake her, but she woke. My mother put her arms around me and held me and told me not to cry. She told me that we would be together again some day. She told me that we had so many blessings in our life, so much joy, but that we also had to have some pain. She told me that we had to take what was ugly and make it beautiful and that we could do that by loving each other. To have my mother back, to have her comfort me and hold me and love me, like a mother holds and loves her child, was a blessing, and it was beautiful and it was only a moment but it was everything.

Dr. Jen Gunter

Wielding the lasso of truth

The Backpacking Shrink

Sell your cleverness, and buy bewilderment - Rumi


To Catch A Falling Cactus

Long Haul Trekkers

Adventure with Dogs

Sheri Silver

living a well-tended life... at any age


Monthly Tips for EFT Couples Therapists

Bonnie Rae

simple days with bonnie rae.

Ferocious Foodie

One man's brutally honest opinion about all things edible.


Straight up with a twist– Because life is too short to be subtle!

Empty House, Full Mind

Views of life from the empty nest

Life By Design ... One Day At A Time

World Cup 2014

welcome! Please contribute your opinions about world cup

The New Elizabeth

Reinventing Myself

PeanutBubba & Fluff

The "just for your entertainment" tales of mommyhood

Lessons Learned

Life has taught me well


Mermaid on a bicycle