Eulogistics

I thought of something nice to say at my mother’s funeral.

Spoiler alert:

She’s not dying (no quicker than you or I technically am…)

But my dad is…

So I was thinking about all of the things that I would say about him at his funeral;

and that made me sad. So to cope, I decided to try and think of something nice to say…at my mother’s.

I know, I know… BUT!

I thought that would make me mad-

You know:

when I couldn’t find one (but knowingly looked)?

And…

Well then I found one; which in turn… made me mad.

Huzzah!

Isn’t it exquisite-

how my broken and gold;

They fuse together in kintsugi rhythm?

Knowing both paths to the desired result- consciously mitigated and yet…

Gestures vaguely at everything,

and nothing.

Thimble

Lately I’ve been “nesting.”

Chasing serotonin and conviction- reclaiming my own curtilage.

And yet, entertaining;

Fellini-esque fantasies.

While balancing the romantic…

with the absurd.

Still, fantasies indeed are dangerous things.

Particularly;

when one feels unchallenged or complacent…

It’s easy to believe that things mean more-

Connections or kismet or fated-

too often just a novel distraction

They would soon grow bored of…

He gave her his heart,

she gave him a pen.

Is it ever real?

Too often oxytocin fueled.

And hypervigilance gives way

To resolute avoidance and/or

The altruistic conundrum-

there is no unselfish deed…

And like she said, “perhaps…”

I’ve already had my chance for that type of happiness.

Nonetheless, a growth mindset.

Endeavor to be present.

Stay the course.

Self actualize myself.

Alone is not so bad.

Lonely is much worse.

Photo from: www.shopstudiosisters.com

Poltergeist

There’s a ghost in my house; 

But I think I haunt myself.

I wake up with my hand on a pillow-

And for a moment, it’s your back.

I hear you say my name

When I’m half asleep.

But then I remember you’re not here…

Because I asked you to go

And you went…

Because you love me.

Everything out here has changed…

But everything inside me is the same.

A problem always takes two-

Mayhapst the catalyst wasn’t you. 

Perhaps it’s me that should go. 

Woundmates

It’s just you’re Everything-

combined;

A reminder of every one-

I’m not blind.

Memories of patterns…

But amplified.

A new Want-

to be wanted.

No longer needing-

to be needed.

Growth comes in waves-

Big waves can sink ships.

What chance can we have?

Bleach

My seemingly loving efforts appear to have been~
insidious;

regardless of my good intentions.

That stupid fucking realization:

“The grass only grew when we left it alone.”

And I then-

Well, I looked at my hands;         

each rubbing the other like it would somehow bring the other- comfort…

and I flashed upon a memory…

a memory of my father~

wringing his hands…

Because there’s nothing else you can do when “rainy days and Mondays always bring you down…”

I wished that it was all gaslighting-

Alas-

I cannot deny my own part in the fire-

that fire that burnt everything.

Everything we loved-

Everything we planned-

All the things we planted-

Prayed for.

Yep-

I am the common denominator who just…

Just brought it to it’s knees and then to a-

well…

To a bitter fucking end.

And everything I thought I knew

and everything I was meant to do-

Was smoldering… kindling~

Left.

Left to mildew:

Mildew like forgotten laundry in the wash~

Dirty laundry-

a chore.

You know.

The kind you forget because you think you’re happy;

and
you are busy;

and

you feel content.

Then and only then-

do you realize:

you left it;

left it TOO long~

unattended;

in the rain… and also;

On the line-

and now it’s sour;

Rotten…

That smell can not be washed out.

 

Goddamn it.

Eh…

Working in hospice is a trip. Some days are really hard and I’m thankful to have coworkers and some friends who get it.

Death is an ever looming presence in this job and sometimes when a patient dies it hits like a gut punch.

Most people don’t get it, the typical response is “well they were on hospice so it wasn’t unexpected so why are you feeling ___________?”

Well yes, they WERE on hospice.

But also, NO….

I’m one of these lucky social workers who have quite a vivid imagination and this works to my advantage and disadvantage. While I can empathize with the patients or their families because I can try to imagine what they’re going thru (to the best of my ability) but unfortunately when they pass, I can also rabbit hole on that experience as well. We don’t always KNOW and when someone is alone at that moment, we never know. Was it quick? Was it painful? Were they scared? Particularly right now when it is hard to see patients in homes and facilities, as a social worker or a chaplain. Sure- there’s some ways around it if things are “imminent” but you don’t always know. Sometimes it’s more rapid than anticipated or a complete surprise. I think about it too much for my own good, probably. It goes downhill from there and snowballs, but I personally take solace in the fact that I still care this much. But not with all patients. Not that I don’t care for them all, but I’m sure there’s some projection, transference, something that makes some harder than others. Maybe it has to do with how long you work with someone. Maybe they remind you of someone: consciously or subconsciously, or they represent something or someone we fear or worry about. Lots of possibilities. Maybe it simply has to do with my control issues. My version of denial of my own mortality. I’m not sure really. But regardless, some days, some patients, some deaths, hit harder and last longer than others.

Keep doing the good work. That’s all we can do.

why-ku

It was not me, first
Sorrow is a contagion…
Alcohol contains.

Artaxia

Sorghum sadness

Artax-ia let’s say…

breathing in heavy yet noble, gases-

The vapors…

Tinkerbell feelings that expand

And dissipate in a few moments-

Except!

Except-

A certain adhesive melancholia

Sticky clouds…

Like a snare…

It’s a trap.