I recently slogged my way out of a series of losses. Though I talked of grief overlays, or cumulative grief, I didn’t address how one might do the work of addressing the presence of it in one’s life. So, let’s talk about overlays, a cumulative grief. Ideally, one would experience loss, talk about it, think about it, sob with it, write about it, process it: Repeat. But what does one do when grief upon grief upon grief stacks one on the other? Was I weak to falter under the load? Shouldn’t I be sturdy enough having spent a lifetime perfecting resilience to find it now? I ran aground early … [Read more...]
Unraveled
I want both my eyes. I want to see with the ease I did when both worked. To expect depth perception to remain constant. To see my wine glass and pour into it, instead of all over a countertop. One of my eye docs joked all I needed was a bigger glass. I want to stop attempting to round square corners by walking into them. To see the difference a stair makes. To watch a wall of water thrown by a surf boat and accurately gauge my SUP response to it. To stop saying “I’m sorry,” to someone I’ve just hit with my left arm as I pointed to something or turned into them because they weren’t … [Read more...]
A Sorta Eulogy
I am an orphan in fact now, not by design, though I was that as well. My mother died Friday evening. Hazel Elaine Smith (Ewing), 90 years old, who said a year ago she hoped she’d fall asleep and never wake up and was ticked as the dickens when the sun rose on a new day. Then she fainted and slipped away. I hadn’t seen her in over 30 years. Mom: beautiful, vivacious, outgoing, idealistic, smart, brave, adventuresome, softhearted, who loved my father obsessively. Therein lies the story. In childhood, Mom lived with her family in the mountains, where they skied to school. The eldest of … [Read more...]
New Beginnings
What will this day be like? I wonder. What will my future be? I wonder. It should be so exciting, To be out in the world, To be free. My heart should be wildly rejoicing. Oh, what's the matter with me? It has been a year to the day since my accident turned our life upside down. I find it fitting, in a full circle sort of way, that on this day we move into our new home. New beginnings, quite different from those of a year ago. That day when my eye was smatterized by a cat-o-nine-tails, and I instantly lost my sight, I turned away from my grandboys and roared into the sky, … [Read more...]
Falling Into My Father’s Eyes
I am six today. The old farm house is filled with the scent of cinnamon and maple syrup. French toast is my birthday request. I dress with care, and clumsily tie a ribbon in my ponytail. A shiver of anticipation tickles my tummy on my way to the stairs. I wish there was a sliver of light. I don’t want to run my hand along the splinter-filled guard rail to navigate the narrow, impossibly steep stairwell on my way to breakfast. The kitchen is a sea of bodies, ten including my own, settling in around the table. Mama nods and in the doorway stands daddy, a newborn foal in his arms. “She’s yours,” … [Read more...]
Two Kinds of Truth
The Sequel to “The Tipping Point of Sorrow” I was there. It was a windy, clear night. I sat on the bed and brushed tear dampened hair from Michelle’s face and tucked it behind her ear. I had just overheard that our father had gotten my fifteen-year-old sister pregnant. “I envy her dark wavy hair,” I thought contemplatively as I lifted strands away from her neck needing to touch her, offer her comfort. I ached for this grief-ridden girl/child, with a profoundness that closed my throat. Michelle was twelve when she came into my life. She was the oldest of six siblings the state took away … [Read more...]
