worst thing I have lost | worst thing I have lost
Feb.03.2011
Ode to a Soft Spring Evening
Some days you can sit more easily
Within a sadness,
When the light seems brighter and
The sun warms deeply,
Teasing the twisting uncertainty inside you,
Demanding you come out to play
When others, just like you
Might just as easily curl up into themselves,
Turning...
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Feb.03.2011
On April 4, 1987, I lost myself. I was a senior at Protection High School in a tiny Kansas town out in the boonies, as we called it. I guess I would have been described as spunky, friendly, and smart. I still get teased by my parents because I never wanted to miss a night of "dragging main...
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Feb.03.2011
I struggle writing about my son, my baby boy I lost at 21 weeks pregnant.
On one hand, I don't want to dwell in my grief, simmer in it, because then I'll become part of the Grief Stew, and I fear it will overtake me. On the other hand, though, there is all this emotion that needs to be let out...
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Feb.03.2011
Losing my fertility, or finding that I didn't really have much fertility to begin with, has been my toughest loss and my toughest challenge. Always wanting one and not being able to have a child of my own has been devastating to my psyche and to my sense of womanhood. There isn't too much worse...
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Feb.03.2011
I was 28 years old when my dad suddenly died. I was devastated! I had adored him and much of who I was, much of who I am, I attribute to him. As I worked through my grief in the months following his death, I came to picture my life as a stained glass window made up of multiple pieces of...
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Feb.03.2011
The day my son older son Paul died I couldn't even put my underpants on right side out. And in the days that followed I had to talk myself through simple every day steps - get up, go to the bathroom, brush teeth, go into the closet and pick out something to wear. It was as basic as that. I couldn'...
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Feb.03.2011
"The way to love anything is to realize it might be lost." –G. K. Chesterton (1874-1936), English writer known in his day as "The Prince of Paradox." Writers have a unique way of rising like a phoenix from the ashes, turning the devastating loss of a loved one into intimate...
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Feb.03.2011
I met my friend Ella Manning in April 1982. She died in October 1991. Here are three poems I've written since her death.
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recipereveille
With the force that flies the Freixenet corklike a bat out of hella genie, its bottlea bullet from some glad salute...
Ella whispers...
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Feb.03.2011
Loss for me is not singular, though each one has a corresponding weight.
I have lost teeth and hair and my ability to bear children. I'm losing my vision and memory and my facility with numbers and names. I have lost so many things; pieces of jewelry that I ached for, feeling I'd lost some part of...
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Feb.03.2011
Dear People of Earth,
The last thing I remember, it was Halloween. My costumed kids headed out with their friends just after dark, with the competitive spirit seen in older trick-or-treaters. Goal: Cover as much ground and collect as much candy as humanly possible. And, a couple of hours later,...
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