grief

My Precious Momma

Folder: 
Grief & Grieving

Jane Catherine  Cavalcante

My Precious Momma...

I hugged you, talked to you, kissed you.

I spent Blessed, special time with you,

on your that, last day here

...and now,

I'm supposed to go on living without you,

My Precious Momma.

~

How is that even possible,

when you were the first person I ever loved

and the first person,

who ever loved me,

My Precious Momma?

When you were my best friend,

my confidant, my advice 'go-to' and giver?

My hand-holder, my cheering squad,

my example of strength, of grace, of dignity,

of a deep and steadfast Faith.

Just like that...54 years

and 20 days, all the days I ever knew,

of living in this world with you in it~

and then, suddenly...no more.

~

My Precious Momma,

When you left this earth,

Heaven surely got even more beautiful,

as you arrived

and your smiling Irish eyes,

just went wide-open in utter awe,

as you touched the glorious face of Jesus, at last.

Then, as you turned all around,

dancing in delightful glory,

restored, renewed,

with no pain, no struggle, no worry, no fear...

and not ever again.

~

Oh My Precious Momma,

you certainly more than earned your reward,

for your trials you had, here on this earth.

For that I am so grateful, to our Lord,

that you suffer no more,

and while I long to have you back,

I would never wish you away from Paradise

and back to pain and struggles and strife.

~

No My Precious Momma...

For I would rather continue

the time I have left here, on earth,

with my own pain and struggles and strife

and live as Faithful a life as you did,

being as strong a woman as you were,

My Precious Momma,

knowing that someday soon,

it will be my time to go to be with you,

there, Home in Heaven.

~

But until then...

until Father God calls me Home too,

I will still, forever and ever, be loving you,

be missing you, be aching inside

and be so very lost without you...

My Precious Momma.

Cry


 

 

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

In loving memory of My Precious Momma, Jane Catherine Cavalcante, born December 19, 1944...who went to be with Jesus on July 20, 2020

I miss you so very, very much, Mom!!! I am broken and lost without you. Cry

https://www.bakerpostfh.com/memorials/Cavalcante-Jane/4272389/obituary.php

It's My Sweet Momma

Folder: 
Grief & Grieving
 
 
I heard her heart beating,
From there, inside her womb.
She loved me before anyone,
While I was in my first room.

She birthed me and held me
and rocked away my cries.
It was by her, I first knew love,
When I first looked into her eyes.

She raised me and reared me,
Taught me right from wrong.
And showed me, by her example,
How to be strong-woman strong.

She spanked me when needed,
For which I'm no worse for the wear.
She's guided me through trials,
Through sadness and though despair.

She's been my very best friend,
My teacher, and my biggest fan.
And she'll forever be my hero,
For all my remaining lifespan.

But now she's so very tired
And she longs to go Home.
Where she'll hurt never again
As through Heaven's streets, she'll roam.

For that, I'll be so grateful,
She's more than earned her reward.
As once she arrives in Heaven,
She will be fully healed and restored!

And I know this won't be the last time,
I'll see her beautiful face...
For one day, I'll join her,
In that Glorious Place!

But oh, sorrow until then,
My heart will surely be aching,
For it's not just anyone, you see,
It's My Sweet Momma, God's taking.


07-17-2020






 

Author's Notes/Comments: 
I write with the ink of my soul and this has to be the easiest, yet, the absolute hardest poem I've ever written. Cry
I love you with all my heart and soul, Mom. <3
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Five stages

Folder: 
Family

grief looks different on everyone. some internalize while others lash out, hemorrhaging emotion at anyone who gets too close. mostly, I figure, it comes in waves. one minute you’re going about your day like usual and there’s nothing that remarkable about it that makes it worth rememberance. wake up, go to work, say and do whatever you’re supposed to and it seems like it’s all the same.


then realization sets in: everything’s changed — they’re dead. the thought itself feels wrong and you’re nearly sick with the pain of it. there’s a hole in your heart where they should be and you forget for a moment why they’re not. you try to wrap your head around it but it’s too big and it doesn’t quite fit. an itch beneath the skin. then comes the anger: you’re mad at them for leaving you and maybe you didn’t get to say goodbye. did you tell yourself you’d do it tomorrow? there’s never enough time.


guilt settles in next: the shoulda, woulda, coulda’s. replaying every conversation (or worse the arguments) you had while wishing you could do it all over again. maybe take back something you said but didn’t mean. that leads to bargaining: the infamous ‘if only’s’. you can torture yourself a thousand different ways imagining all the scenarios that might have happened instead.


by then you’re probably in tears and they seem so inadequate when it comes to expressing how you feel. you want to scream and rage until what’s built up inside you has gone. breathing’s never been this hard. that’s when you have to remind yourself to keep doing it. breathe through the agony, count each one if you can. it gets easier the more you do it: one breath, then two, three and four. try to make it to ten then congratulate yourself on your victory - you earned it. even though they’re not here anymore, you still are and that means something.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

r.i.p. to my brother, his wife, their unborn child Hawk & my niece Melody.

 

I miss you every day

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Outsider

Folder: 
Band Lyrics

 

Verse 1:

Always on the outside, looking in.

I never knew love found me here.

Until you take me on,

Babe, I cannot do it without you.

For, you are my heaven.

Eternally your’s to keep,

You have my spirit.

Lead and guide me.

 

Chorus:

I am just an outsider looking in.

Do not judge me if you do not know me.

I have had my shares of issues and trauma.

Don’t break my trust

Once it is earned.

I can see no one but you.

Only you will do.

It’s you I see in my dreams

And in my future.

‘Cause I know, we’re better together.

‘Cause we’re better than ever.

 

Verse 2:

Since you were away,

Everything has changed.

Only the distance between you and I has increased.

Yet, it’s never enough.

I keep on wanting and needing you in my life.

But, now, it’s time to say our goodbyes.

For, this relationship of ours could have been something more

If only you’d given us a chance.

If only you’d make the first move.

If only you’d let me in.

If only you’d told me how you really felt for me.

You know me well

But, what is it that you feel?

 

Bridge:

If I already knew that 

You were mine to keep,

I wouldn’t have wasted time.

Now, it’s time for me to put myself into your hands.

Don’t let me go.

For, the grass is not greener on the other side.

I’ve been there without you

But without you, is something I cannot be or do.

‘Cause I know, we’re better together.

‘Cause we’re better than ever.

Always on the outside, looking in.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

New song 2018. 

My Grandfather's Pacemaker

Bright constellations shimmering against the ocean floor. My grandfather was born for the sea, or maybe it was the sea that had been brought upon him. He stared down to the blue and looked up at the twinkling stars and couldn’t ever imagine a world without these peppering kisses of droplets sprinkling against his freckled face.

 

Everything needs an engine. Even a mighty boat.

 

February night, cold air sneaking its way through the door that was ajar. Sneaking its way through his veins and all the way to his heart. Rhythm suddenly stopped, the beats were uncertain. A nurse walked in, called the doctor and made sure to close the curtain. It was under attack, his heart that is. The mother organ. Only physically though, his love and kindness still open. And that was it for a while, that’s what kept him alive for so long. Not very long but still longer than most.

 

Who would’ve thought that the young sailorman, the scuba diving king, would be depending on a machine to keep his heart beating and the summer air clean. But there It was and here we were and even though he couldn’t form many words, I still know if he could he’d be joking everywhere and finding a way, in his mind, to still crack a joke.

 

A pacemaker. Artificial life. But nothing artificial about it said my grandmother, his wife, because after all he was still here and that will was what mattered. Little did we know that his biggest dreams had been shattered. Yes, he loved us, and he loved being with us and his family visiting did help him recover but what is it that happens when your major interest is over? Would it feel like everything was out of order? My dad said he wasn’t sure, but oh boy I knew it. How could I put in doubt his love for the sea and fishing and doing? A hardworking man he was, you can’t just expect him to be okay and resting. Not when he’d rather be put in action and fighting and testing.  

 

A pacemaker, they call them. Those little machines that send electric shocks so your heart’s valves stay open. A pace, a rhythm, a beat. Could really help you live but, apparently, not to stay on your feet. That’s when I understood and that’s when I saw it; my grandpa’s heart didn’t beat to pump blood, it beat to imitate oceans.

 

We took him to the beach, to see it for one last time. The pacemaker seemed to smile, his eyes seemed to shine and everything was okay, at least for a while, at least for some time. Every heart beats to its own rhythm and that’s completely okay, you just have to find what is yours and what makes you brave.

 

September afternoon, the old man passed away, the pacemaker stopped. It was bound to happen sometime anyway but I still cried. It’s not easy to see someone you love die. My father sniffed and showed me his closed hand, I looked at it and he opened it to see what it had. The small object, that thing that kept my grandfather alive for so long. It wasn’t so away from him just hours ago. I sighed and closed his hand again, told him maybe it would be useful to donate the thing to some friend. A man so alive once, had depended on a machine and oh, so naïve I was to think it was only the sea that gave breath to his lungs and helped him feel free. But everything was okay now, it was time for him to rest. When someone is alive so much and has given his best it’s okay…it’s okay for them to just stay…and sleep and snore so deep. So deep as the ocean and the deep blue sea, dreaming to the beat of a pacemaker and to heaven to flee.

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A Single Ray of Sunlight

Walking in darkness,

sometimes we forget

that light exists.

 


We fixate on what hurts us

deriving identity

from our pain.


We look away

from the hands

that could rescue us.


Aching

Longing

Filled with regret

Alone

Lost


Our vision blurred

our perspective limited

our views tainted


Conflict.

Contention.

Crisis.

Our constant companions.


Forgetting how to feel,

how to love.

Forgetting who we are,

letting shame define us.


Fire

Anger

Hatred

Self-loathing

Threaten to consume us

Unquenchable

Unfixable

Unrelenting


Everything we believe about ourselves

and the world

and the people around us

is a lie,

Warped by our own twisted thoughts


This is OUR world

But it is not THE world


Change is possible.

For you, for me, for all who see

through darkened eyes.


It comes in small moments of clarity,

like a single ray of sunlight

slicing through the clouds


The road to peace

can be a long one,

but the journey begins

with hope.

Dear Michael and Alex:-

Folder: 
Children's Prose:

 


I am saddened by your sorrow; at the departure of your grandpa.

May he rest a while with doves of peace.

Residing now with his creator amongst the star.


From toil and ill health his eternal spirit lives on; by death's release.

So don't be disheartened by his demise.

Your grandpa will always love you still; and be guiding and guarding your way from afar.


Love never ending and that cannot marr:

Your memories of your loving grandpa.

Keep well, safe and live for life never ceasing:

Your loving grandma, Nan Anita.


By Anita Griffiths

Author's Notes/Comments: 

How to explain to the young the concept of death, ill health and disabilitating quality of life?

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In The Corner

"Sorry to hear about your loss"'s

Are wooden and rigid

Templates learnt and regurgitated

Out of the mouths of puppets.

 

There are the hard-eyed portraits

On the wall with nothing

To say. There are caricatures

Who never cease to stop.

 

"Are you okay?" trickles out

Of the mouths of the mindless.

Questions back me into corners and

I have no choice but to nod my head.

 

The false testimony that is "yes"

Is as wooden and rigid as the rest.

There are too many timber slabs

Around me - I want to burn them all.

 

Let me set fire to your words

Before you bother to let them out.

I am sincerely sorry that I have

A loss for you to be so sorry about.

 

May the match put an end

To your stilted statements and constant

Questions. Unless in that corner,

I can find my grandmother again.

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I lost my grandmother recently, and it was my first experience of death in the family - an experience I was old enough to understand, for once, anyway. People I don't know as well have paid me their respects, people I know very well have said nothing at all. It's a very confusing and frustrating time for me, as I'm not quite sure of how I'm feeling or how to take people or how to do anything anymore. My first instinct, after being with my family, was to write. This was what came.

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We Own Not, Tomorrow

 

 

 

 

A blink, a breath,

A heartbeat away.

We own not, tomorrow-

Nor even, today.

 

Here but only briefly,

A mere moment of all time.

Will we ever grow old?

Or pass away, in our prime?

 

In the grand scheme of life,

It matters not, when or where.

But how we lived in each moment,

Of all our joys, and our despair.

 

So tell them, you love them-

While your heart is still beating,

For we own not, tomorrow,

And today...is so fleeting...