Continuation

Overwhelmed.                                                                                                                 Daily seeing, wanting, believing.

As usual, it's right in front of me.                                                                                         I just need to turn                                                                                                               In the direction I'm being shown.

We often do not see                                                                                                     what's "right in front of us".                                      

It's what's most prominent                                                                                             that's often not obvious.

Loss leads us on a different path.                                                                                 We sometimes straddle more than one.

Others cannot see our direction.                                                                                     They often say we're "lost".                                        

My "gift" is seeing                                                                                                             beyond the obvious.                                            

Or so it seems                                                                                                               this is what I've been "given".

You, also, have                                                                                                             unique, special abilities. 

Sometimes it takes                                                                                                           a lifetime to recognize. 

Pulled and pushed                                                                                                          all directions multiple times.                                                                                      

We often react                                                                                                               when we should observe.

Listen, step back and reapproach.    

One viewpoint                                                                                                             never provides a full scenario.

Tread carefully                                                                                                                 into where you listen.

Be aware                                                                                                                           of what you speak.                    

Believe today                                                                                                                   isn't your only chance.                                     

Reset your "self"                                                                                                             as you do your clocks.

Walking Together

Just Yesterday                                                                                                                 We sat in a pew

We listened and learned.                                                                                             Followed and directed.        

We had no living Grandparents

Neither my husband or mine

Honoring my Mom and His

They walked down the aisle

On the arm of a family member

Honored as living examples

Of what was and will be

It was years

That felt like days

When a coffin led the way

I walked alongside

our daughter 

directly behind

your coffin.

Our sons

Your Friends

carried you,

honoring your life, 

the man you were,

the memory you continue to be.

I forgot some things 

for your funeral

but I wasn't really expecting 

there to be one. 

You were getting better.

You were coming home. . . 

in a few days.

. 

Then it happened. 

The change. 

The turn around. 

The swift,

slow movement 

towards our separation.

Your never coming home, 

never returning here 

to be with me again.

No!

I don't need 

to "let go".

No! 

I do not need 

to give away, 

throw away 

EVERYTHING 

about you.

 

It's not a 

constant reminder .

It will always be 

a part of  MY life. 

As time moves forward, 

I take a little here, a little there

to shelters and other places,

 

I think someone will benefit 

from having "new" clothes 

even if there are 

some small signs

of wear and use.

We've always given to others.

It's a part of our life.

Part of who we were 

separately and together. 
This time would be no different. 

If there remains any visible signs

of everyday life as it used to be, 

what difference is that from 

living with family heirlooms 

generation to generation?

It is my life.

Was our life. 

Hurts no one.

Helps me.

And that has become 

a part of my mourning, 

as individual as I am, 

always have been. 

A long term widow?  

A long term individual, wife, 

mother and daughter.

(written 06/17/15 as one of many remembrances held close now shared) 

Pockets To Pick

Where  to begin?

Each time I touch                                                                          

or see something.

A part of husband 

or mother's life.

                                                  

I'm reminded of 

criticisms by family 

and others.

Sons lived 8 hours 

drive away.

One Son 

came to visit.

 

The other 

couldn't find the time.

Critical family members 

and a Church member                                    

as a caregiver for Mom 

and for my husband.

Only one of these 

came into the house.

                                                                      

Only one provided 

any type of "assistance".

40 hours over 11 months.                                                                                               often with several weeks in between.   

I'm being very generous 

calling it "assistance".                                        

What she did was find ways 

to disrupt and destroy                                            

my Mom 

and her relationship with me.

I've had many conversations                                                                                           with women who have been caregivers,                                     

for immediate family members,                                                                                         husbands, other relatives and friends.                                              

                        

Almost all tell stories of abuse suffered                                                                         from other family members and friends                                                                       who found fault and criticized.

"Critics" seldom finding time

to visit, relieve direct caregivers.

My oldest son came to visit once                                                                               during the time his father was critically ill.                                                      

Our telephone conversations were few.                                                    

He was always finding fault.

He always told me how "incompetent"

Incapable I was.

I turned to him one time.

I begged for help.

For his Father.

He said "No".

                                                                              

People are reflections 

of the lives they're living                         

especially when they 

find fault with others and criticize.

After my husband, 

his father's death,                                                           

oldest son's criticism escalated. 

He felt "he" was now 

"the head" of "the family".

He wasn't raised to be a "chauvinist".                                                                               He certainly knows how to be one.                                                                                   Where and from whom and why?

Or is it he was "lowered" over years

To be someone without authority

There to provide, to accept

Every time I tried to trust him,                                                                                         he turned around and found a way                                                                                   to cause me harm mentally & emotionally.                                                

He'd physically lost control one time,                                                                               hit me so hard he broke teeth 

and then said I deserved it.

Knocked his father down,

Running away.

He removed our ability, 

his father, mine,                                                        

his grandmother and sister's,                                                                                                   to see or talk with "his" children.

Children grow,

someday they'll know.

They'll see the light

The darkness their parents created.

Once before they married, we visited, 

She led us on a "tour" of the house

We had no idea they lived together

This was decades 

And a decade before

"Trial Marriages"

"Cohabitation"

Became commonplace.

Taken on a walking tour

Stopping outside a bedroom

Thankful my Mom 

Could not take the stairs

Shocked by what we saw

Husband, self, 

Our 10 year old daughter

Before handheld phone/cameras

A display of several bras & panties

We were "greeted" by 

her underpants and bras

"displayed" on a bed 

in a room they shared.

It was before the turn of this Century.

"Shacking Up" was not the Norm.

Showing contempt for someone's parents

Was the depth of being crude.

She didn't care. She felt "entitled".

Showed how much when they married.

Demanding we turn over cash to "them"

So they could go to Europe.

It was and continued to be "her way"

Money we'd saved, 

despite previous experiences,

For a traditional "dinner together"

Both families sharing a special time together.

Her "out of control" 

demands and commands

left us with no choice. 

We skipped the Wedding.

We weren't "honored guests" 

we were simply

Pockets to Pick.