It’s so easy to distract from what we should not. It’s so easy to turn the page when we, instead, need to take a minute to grieve. My best friend died on my father’s birthday in 1999. She stood up … Continue reading
On December 11, 2015 my father lost his wife. Below are the words, images, lessons and teachings from his experience…..
There is an American Indian phrase that is used to designate the person who walks beside another, through out their life; it is, “the one who walks beside.” This simple expression is clearly referring to a spouse, a best friend, a brother, a sister, etc., who, regardless of the kind of conditions or circumstances that surround the beloved person, will walk by his or her’s side. This kind of relationship exudes characteristics of loyalty, love, support, protection, respect, selflessness: my wife would say, “they are attached at the hip.”
This phrase accurately describes the relationship my wife and I had. She was the one who walked beside. I say “was” because my wife passed away, unexpectedly Dec. 11, 2015. My wife, Mary Lou, was not feeling well after Thanksgiving. She complained of stomach pains, thinking she had an urinary infection, which she had had several times previous. We went to urgent care, and she was diagnosed with a severe urinary infection, and was given three antibiotic pills. Mary Lou seemed satisfied that the pills would cure her infection, as they had on previous occasions, and she would be fully recovered in three days. The next day, Mary Lou wasn’t feeling any better and complained of lower back pain and a severe headache. We went to see an orthopedic doctor who took x-rays of her lower back with the result that, other than some arthritis her lumbar area was fine. The next day Mary Lou was getting weaker. and we decided to go to the hospital emergency facility. She was so weak that she could not put on her socks and shoes, I had to put them on her feet. Continue reading…..
My cries are deep these days.
*They aren’t the same cries of my adolescence where I’d sit in bed listening to slow music, feeling sorry for myself. No, these cries do not spawn from that space of pity. They come from some place else.
I want more. I have more. I seek relief. I have relief. I ponder destiny. I realize destiny. Nothing makes sense any longer. What I had is no longer good enough. I’m lost. Then found. I cry these deep cries. When I take breaths, I remind myself of a baby who keeps gasping after a painful outburst.
Where is this place I have come? Does anyone know it? Who am I now after losing so much, and feeling as though I’ve gained so little? Where do I begin to let the river flow again? My heart is bleeding out. I miss everything. And, there is that cry again.*
*random words in the moment of one of those deep cries. Don’t even know if it makes sense, but there it is. Maybe someone can relate. Maybe not, but it’s out now.
The Soul Reporter.