You've Got To Be Kidding Me!

A Broken Shoulder

You've got to be kidding! I've broken my shoulder and the word out is that it's a very serious break that requires surgery.  I've always been independent,  not wanting others to do things for me that I could do for myself and I've been fairly stubborn in this area pretty much all my life! 

This time I climbed up on top of the hot tub lid so that I could access a roof tile in the gazebo that had slipped. As I reached for the tile I lost my balance and began to pitch forward.  My son grabbed my right arm to pull me back and voila! A broken shoulder.  A CAT scan has been ordered to see if the break is cancer related, and yes, of course I'm hoping that it's not.  Oh! and before I forget, the roof tile is still hanging....

Say It Isn't True

Say It Isn't True

So much has changed since my last post.  So very much.  After almost 7 years of struggling with cancer and fighting to the very end, my husband passed away on October 31, 2014.  Within a week of his death, it was my turn to be diagnosed with Stage 4 Ovarian cancer.  Was it even possible?  I had longed for peace in my life after the years of struggling to care for my husband. There had to be a mistake!

It felt like a cruel joke.  Impossible to comprehend, yet there I was, so incredibly sick that within a week I had gone from looking after my husband, to a hospital bed in the Palliative Care ward being wheeled about because I could no longer walk.  Nights filled with terror gasping for breath because my abdomen was so distended I couldn't breathe.  It seemed I was always panicking and constantly bewildered.  Dear God, what was happening to me?  I just wanted to go home...to not hear the word 'palliative' over and over, and so I was over the moon happy when a few weeks later I was permitted to return home and plans were made to begin chemotherapy treatments.

On the day of my first treatment it was me, not my husband, sitting in the chair in the Cancer Clinic  getting ready for my first chemotherapy treatment.  No time to mourn or to even think about my loss.  I was fighting for my own life not knowing if I was going to survive for days, let alone weeks or months.  It was all so incredibly surreal....even as my hair began to fall out it continued to feel like a bad dream.

Then the chemotherapy began to be work.  I was able to leave the wheelchair and walk on my own and slowly I began to feel more like 'me'.  In time I noticed that my grandchildren didn't look at me with confusion or fear in their eyes any longer and were more comfortable approaching me.  I was now well enough to respond to them as the grandma they knew.  They had recently lost their Grandfather, yet I was now entertaining the thought that perhaps they weren't going to lose me also...at least not yet.

So here we are, it's the first week of July 2015 and I am almost at the end of my first line of treatments.....only one more to go.  Next there will be surgery on July 23rd for a hysterectomy and removal of as much cancer as can be safely taken out.  I know that every procedure has been planned to provide me with more time.  Good days of feeling well.  I want to enjoy each and every single day doing the things I love with the people I love, because I believe
life really is good.

          No Peace

Do you ever pause for a moment to look back at your words

and gain insight that at some point in your life there are portions
 you will probably regret? Lately I have considered that
 putting my thoughts 'out there' may ultimately

 thwart the peace I have desired for so long.

Countless times I have poured my heart into words
 so that I could endure the  gamut of emotions.
 Yet I realize my words may eventually hold me in a place of
 emotional regret where I look back and think

   'How could I have written that....'

 Either way, containing my emotions would be
painful now just as releasing them
in words will cause regret later.
I find that ironic....it is a lose, lose situation

.

I free my thoughts hoping they will be caught
 and considered....and yes! I still desire them to be heard;
God please!  Listen to me!  This is all driving me crazy!

I cannot raise a man, I cannot!  I cannot heal a man, I cannot!

I cannot stem his mouth, I cannot! 

I cannot make him or change him, I just cannot!

I struggle with and am so confused by my thoughts.
  How can I possibly love someone and yet feel
 such contempt and anger?  It is all so, so wrong!

.

I have exposed what is generally 'hidden' by
offering pictures in words....each painted from
 a hurting heart. If I put a stopper on the flow
 I will once again carry their magnitude.
 Having discovered this release through words
 I wonder if I would remain emotionally

intact, but who knows? I may be stronger than I believe!

.

 Does it make any difference if my words remain in my heart
or if I set them free?  Writing releases the pressure of them....
it does not erase them. They are still there and I know at some
point I will have regrets having written them. How could I
not look back on the anger in my words without regret?

.

I have a heavy heart when I think of sweeping
 it all under the carpet so that it remains hidden,
 and pretending what is, is not. 
 I find it repugnant to present the lie and I must admit
 it brings out the caustic side of me.
 Yet while pulling the debris from under the carpet,
 I am betraying someone I love.
.

So I am uncomfortable with feelings of betrayal,

yet I am repulsed by hypocrisy.
 But then again, if I feel compelled to mention
hypocrisy, what about my past behaviours
 that have not been exposed? 
.
Who do I think I am with my freedom of pen?
.
Opening up my heart in such a public forum has not made me
a pioneer of telling it 'like it is'.....In my anger,
 I have simply exposed the character 'flaws' of someone I love.
.
I should have instinctively set up boundaries when I wrote.
  My only plea is that I really did not know where else to
place my incredible anger, but I cannot use that
plea as justification.....

Choosing to lay my pen to rest will give me some peace in

knowing that I am not being furtively disrespectful.

.

Let's Talk

Let's you and I sit down and talk

About a subject dear to you

We'll talk about the price of things

 what's gone up a buck or two

I'll ask the cost of bread or milk

And you'll know it in a flash

We all know what's important, dear

'Cause it's all about the cash

It's a subject that intrigues you

The Market's highs and lows

How mutual funds have failed us

Why your investments haven't grown

Let's you and I sit down and talk

About a subject dear to me

We'll talk about the kids we have

The ones you seldom see

I'm sure you know just what they cost

The food, the lights and more

You only had to love them

As you should have long before

It's a subject that intrigues me

How we measured up to cash

Although you've been our shortfall

In the present and the past.

Reeling Me In

Sometimes I think I've had enough

And my heart says I am through

Though it doesn't matter either way

As this is what you'll do

You'll take the rod and bait the line

Then toss it out to sea

The leaden lure attached to it

Will find its way to me

I'll do my best to turn away

Even though you always win

You'll tell me what you're fearful of

And then you'll reel me in

Her Dream

She goes about her daily life

As though you were not there

I doubt she often thinks of you

I doubt her heart still cares

You've had the time to show her

What a man could really be

The role you had is lost to her

As she sees how you 'love' me

She dreams of when it's her and I

Alone in peace and calm

You foolish man! Why can't you see

Her peace is when you're gone?

It Was Love

It's a restless sleep

Filled with restless dreams

Moments of stillness....

Times awake in between

The dark is moved slowly

Pushed away by the light

I slip from my bed

Bid adieu to the night

The quiet is waiting

Precious moments are free

No one is waking....

Times treasure to me

An open door to my room

It's restful and calm

I reach for my chair

In the dimness of dawn

A gift has been placed

"Just" because....says the note

Words blur through the tears

It was 'Love' that she wrote....

Do You Remember Me

.

It's been 10 years my son

of missing you...

Short, yet endless all the same.

My heart wants to ask

Are you really happy my son?

Do you laugh and sing and stroll about

In a home you call your own?

Will I walk up your path and see you there?

I need to know.....

.

Do you remember me?

.

I miss you son and want you here

But I would not ask you back again

Except for a moment in time to say hello

.

My sister promised she would find you

Were you there to greet her my son?

I hope she now loves the sound of her laughter

Dancing in bright pink with her red hair

You could not help but love her as I do

Does she have a home to call her own and

Will I walk up the path and see her there?

I wish I knew.....

.

Does she remember me?

.

I miss her son and want her here

But I would not ask her back again

Except for a moment in time to say hello

.

***

The Guard

.

She remembers to accept what is

Those things she cannot change

Her days begin with newness

In thoughtful re-arrange

.

But her life of ups and downs

Is erratic and out of place

Her tears arrive unbidden

Leaving pools about her face

.

A wall is there to rest behind

Her heart falls from her sleeve

No need to hold up anymore

The bricks are her reprieve

.

.

My Helpmate

.

I have quietly taken over

The things you cannot do

And now I button all your shirts

Then kneel to tie your shoes

.

Your hair is often out of place

And you're upset when it's askew

So my fingers re-arrange it

Because you ask me to

.

You've always done the work outside

For that was in your care

But it's something you can't do right now

So it's me that kneels out there

.

You are my helpmate as I am yours

We are each others hands

But there are several differences

I thought you'd understand

.

A man protects his family

He shields them from all harm

If a noise awakes him from his sleep

He guards them with his arms

.

What sort of man calls to his wife

When he has heard a sound

Then lies in bed to watch her go

To see what will be found

.

The man in him has disappeared

If ever he was there

Were he to read her thoughts right then

He'd puzzle if she cared.

.

.

I Can Only Love You

.

I am busy or I am not.

It doesn't matter,

as my eyes see you and

my hands pause when your

pain reaches me, but

.

I can only love you

.

You are a child in tears

and your heart asks why? as mine sinks.

For who am I to answer

the questions of our

broken world?

.

I can only love you

.

I turn my head and still there

is another.

So young to have felt rejection!

My soothing words cannot be

heard through the pain and tears.

.

I can only love you

.

And over there I find you

so tired and frightened of

what could be.

But here I am

and my hands are tied, as

.

I can only love you

.

No answers for the 'why's'

No passes from the pain,

just moments of joy

is what remains.

Held in Your hands

.

I can only love You

.

***

The Carpet and the Brooms

.

Once upon a time there was a carpet that lived with a

family of brooms. Dirt appeared everywhere....

and the brooms were kept busy

sweeping it all under the carpet.

.

After a great while, a small piece of the rug found

it hard to breathe and even harder

to feel clean, so she tugged

and tugged at the heavy fibres until she was free.

Then she shook off the dirt that the brooms had

swept over her and left their home.

.

Over time she seldom thought of her life

in the carpet with the brooms,

but once in a while she would catch a glimpse

of the broom family and wondered how

they still made the carpet look

clean with all the mire they had swept underneath.

.

One day she happened to see one of them and asked.....

"Don't you find it hard pretending

your carpet is clean

when you are sweeping

all the dirt underneath?"

.

The eldest broom was livid hearing

the little mat's question and rose in

pious indignation. "What dirt are you talking about?

Why do you continue spreading your tales of dirt

beyond these walls?

You can be certain that no one

believes you!" the broom spewed.

.

At first the little mat was confused by

their denial and anger....

because she remembered what they did....

but in time she learned that brooms

were very adept at sweeping away not only the dirt,

but also the truth.....

.

....It was a difficult lesson for the little mat to learn

and she felt sad as she walked away from the

Carpet and Brooms

and turned her face towards home.

.

Perhaps

.

Perhaps it's true that....

"Absence makes the heart

grow fonder."

.

Perhaps it's also true that.....

"Absence makes the heart

grow fonder of the absence."

.

The Holiday

.

You needed a holiday filled

with laughter and smiles .....

I needed one resting

in quiet for a while.

.

I hope you were smiling

when you both drove away,

as our vacations began

at the same time today.....

.

Lifting The Cloud

.

There once was a cloud that

settled overhead.....

It smothered in its darkness

and demanded to be fed.

.

The light broke through the gloom

and lifted up the cloud

"Remember child, you belong to Me

......and the dark I've disavowed."

.

 

The Resting Place

.

I'm not sure if I'm up or down

as I move so fast from each.

I see a place where I could rest,

but it seems beyond my reach.

.

I walk the bridge across the moat....

There's a soothing place inside.

Curled up within the fortress strong,

I'm apart from what's outside.

.

I guess the sun just slipped away

and a cloud settled in its place.

It's shadow's seen within my eyes,

but not upon my face.

 

Bounce

bounce love bounce

bounce anger bounce bounce

bounce bounce bounce bounce

bounce bounce again bounce bounce

bounce now bounce back bounce

bounce my love bounce bounce

bounce my anger bounce

bounce again bouce

bounce

Father's Day

.

Father's Day is over, even though we all know

that for you, every day is really 'Your' day.

.

Still, as the celebrated Day grew closer, I waited for

someone to come and whisper "What are we going

to do for Father's Day?"

.

.....But no one came.

.

Can you see what you have done???

.

No voices asked for paper and no hands furtively

worked behind closed doors preparing a Father's

Day card that announced their affection.

.

.....not one

Can you see what you have done???

.

Then on Father's Day.....there was pleasure as

we dined out and the children were delighted not to

have to worry about what they could or could not have,

although the familiar look that sadly questioned

Is this one too expensive?" seems ingrained.

.

....on every face.

.

Can you see what you have done???

.

Then off to church where we watched a video on

the importance of a father. I was stunned as I watched

it unfold. My mind went back in time when our son

was so little....so fearfully wide-eyed of you!

.

Did you not recognize yourself in this video?

You must have!

How could you not?

.

Can you see what you have done???

.

At home I quietly asked what you thought of the video.

"It was great!" you replied, nonchalantly lifting your head

from the newspaper for a moment.

.

.....And I know you did not see.....you did not hear.....

not even for a moment.

.

Don't you know you could have moulded him with your love?

Now at 36, our tense, nail biting son lives at home, yet

doesn't live at all....and I still cringe each time you call him

from your chair with your unwarranted military voice.....

and he answers.

.

Even now he waits for you.....

.

Can you see what you have done???

.

My daughter telephones. "Mom, I tried to find dad a Father's

Day card, but I couldn't find one that suited him. They all

say things like 'You're the best!' and I just can't say that. I know

dad loves the baby, so I'm giving him a card from her, as it is

easier than finding one from me. Is that ok?"

.

Can you see what you have done???

.

What of our other son who has been with us for over 15 years?

Do you know he still struggles with his feelings for you

even though he is now a man? He tells me "It was easy planning

mother's day for you, because we all wanted to. But I don't feel

like planning anything for him and I feel badly. Now it seems

I just don't talk to him......I try hard to remember the good times

so that I don't get mad at him now."

.

Can't you see what you have done???

.

I ask him to tell me what the good times were and he does.

I am sad, thinking "Those are your good memories?

He wants to love you and should have no guilt....yet like the others,

he carries the weight of guilt that should be yours.

.

Can you see what you have done???

.

.....and then there are the younger ones. They are still children, but

already you have lost them.....even though at one time their hearts

were yours for the taking.

.

Can you see what you have done???

.

As for me? I prepared for you a special day because I still care.

It seems your weakness draws me back

over and over again and I assume your load

as I carry my own.

.

Have you noticed?

.

Do you care? Perhaps you do.....perhaps you don't.

.

I have no faith in you or your heart....but your hair?

That is important to you......that I do know!

.

Can you see what you have done?

.

No....

I know you did not see....

You did not hear.....

Not even for a moment.

***

.

A Softer Side

.

Ahhhh...such a sweet mystery.

Has it been one day.....perhaps two?

Am I the only one who has noticed?

Yes, I believe so......

.

There is a softness.....

a thoughtfulness.

Yes, I still quietly sigh as the caustic

emerges in unharnessed

moments....

but for now that is ok, as the softness

has found its way to me.....

.

.

You Whispered Your Love

.

Take everything....take it all.

Take every word spoken in haste.

Every thoughtless response,

every hurt, every tear, those

unnoticed moments,

each angry word....

.

Sweep them from my heart

by the balm of your words....

.

You whispered your love

and.....I heard.