Lyrical Laments - 14. Chapter 14 Taking Stock

I hear the melancholy, and sense the many partings you speak of. The simplicity of your words makes them all the more effective. I send you a hug. Several, in fact. 

32 minutes ago, Parker Owens said:

I hear the melancholy, and sense the many partings you speak of. The simplicity of your words makes them all the more effective. I send you a hug. Several, in fact. 

Thanks, Parker. Yeah, just a simple poem spilling out in minutes... I just got back from a 5K walk... that always benefits my state of mind.  

16 minutes ago, Valkyrie said:

    This time of year makes the loss of loved ones even more profound.  

Yeah, it really does. Thanks, Val.   

1 minute ago, dughlas said:

Thanks, dugh.  

I know how you feel, my dear friend.  It's been eleven years since my mom died, and it doesn't take much for me to think of something she'd like and I think about telling her, then I remember I can't.  Mercifully that doesn't happen as often now, but it was common in those first years.

What got me the most was the surprise--for years she'd been saying her heart would kill her...but it was the lack of dialysis that claimed her as she refused it.  She went into the hospital the day before my 49th birthday, and I'd seen her two days earlier and she was talking about baking my cake for my visit on the day.  Five days later she was gone, having been in a coma for the last two undergoing palliative care only.  I was there that whole time, along with my older sisters and remaining cousins.

Some years earlier she'd said that she loved me, and I was sure she knew I was gay because she made it a point to mention that nothing like that could break our bond.

Youngest of four kids, the only boy, and the fact I was two months premature with less than 50% chance to finish my first year...I let her call me her 'baby' until she died with some of the usual kid embarrassment--but I'd let her do it forever to have her back one more day.

43 minutes ago, ColumbusGuy said:

I know how you feel, my dear friend.  It's been eleven years since my mom died, and it doesn't take much for me to think of something she'd like and I think about telling her, then I remember I can't.  Mercifully that doesn't happen as often now, but it was common in those first years.

What got me the most was the surprise--for years she'd been saying her heart would kill her...but it was the lack of dialysis that claimed her as she refused it.  She went into the hospital the day before my 49th birthday, and I'd seen her two days earlier and she was talking about baking my cake for my visit on the day.  Five days later she was gone, having been in a coma for the last two undergoing palliative care only.  I was there that whole time, along with my older sisters and remaining cousins.

Some years earlier she'd said that she loved me, and I was sure she knew I was gay because she made it a point to mention that nothing like that could break our bond.

Youngest of four kids, the only boy, and the fact I was two months premature with less than 50% chance to finish my first year...I let her call me her 'baby' until she died with some of the usual kid embarrassment--but I'd let her do it forever to have her back one more day.

Thanks, CG. I talk to my mother all the time, and that's comforting, but there are days its not enough. I think we all can all understand that feeling when we've lost someone. Past relationships too,  can catch me in a loop, reliving both good and bad. I play that game of what if, and that goes nowhere, other than to bring regrets to the fore... even tears at times. Life happens the way it happens... we must accept those moments and place them aside until the next time.   Thank you, my friend. I knew you would get this.    xoxoxoxo

The end of the year tends to bring about this emotional housecleaning....thoughts of goodbyes said this year prompting reminders of the timeless goodbyes in our lives, the ones our hearts never get over having said.

I’m sorry you’re missing your Mom;  Sometimes memories can’t adequately substitute being able to look upon a beloved face, to touch the living frame.  I’m glad your walked help alleviate your melancholy.

I’m sad, too, Gary.  Friendships that I thought would sustain me a lifetime have proven to be for a season instead and I feel rudderless, without roots.

Believing that everything happens for a reason, I look with hope to the future but it doesn’t lessen the loss (and blame) I feel for ports of my future now beings relics of my past.

Sorry for venting....I guess this poem nicked a “misery loves company vein”, I think I need to take a walk, too.

🍻 

3 minutes ago, FanLit said:

The end of the year tends to bring about this emotional housecleaning....thoughts of goodbyes said this year prompting reminders of the timeless goodbyes in our lives, the ones our hearts never get over having said.

I’m sorry you’re missing your Mom;  Sometimes memories can’t adequately substitute being able to look upon a beloved face, to touch the living frame.  I’m glad your walked help alleviate your melancholy.

I’m sad, too, Gary.  Friendships that I thought would sustain me a lifetime have proven to be for a season instead and I feel rudderless, without roots.

Believing that everything happens for a reason, I look with hope to the future but it doesn’t lessen the loss (and blame) I feel for ports of my future now beings relics of my past.

Sorry for venting....I guess this poem nicked a “misery loves company vein”, I think I need to take a walk, too.

🍻 

  I'm sorry you're sad, but you can vent to me anytime. You know, I never really thought about the time of year when I wrote this, but, as you and @Valkyrie point out, it most obviously has much to do with my recent frame of mind... and yours. There is little worse than feeling rudderless and unsure of what the future holds, or even what we want. 

Physical movement helps me... I just returned from another walk... 7K today, and while I coughed for a lot of it, it refreshed me. I had a good conversation with my youngest son this morning before he went to work... as long as my kids are doing well, I'll be fine.   My mom has been gone for years now, and I suspect I will always have these feelings over her loss... that's okay too. Merry Christmas, my friend... I hope your spirits lift soon...      

You echo the feelings I have had in my long life.  No stories to tell, but this reminded me of many endings of friends, family and relationships.  

4 hours ago, raven1 said:

You echo the feelings I have had in my long life.  No stories to tell, but this reminded me of many endings of friends, family and relationships.  

This is a poem for every person. Loss is a part of being alive, but knowing that seldom helps at the time.