The Poetry of Loss

I thought I would share with you all some of the words that have sprung from my experience so far.

These span the last 6 months.  The first poem I write the night before Susan passed away.  It came to me in the middle of the night while sitting up with her in the dark living room.

NIGHT WATCH 11-26-2014

It is four AM

I sit in this darkened room

Silent and mournful

Looking at the still artifact that is my sweetheart

Who for 2 decades

Has held my hand on this journey…

The only sound is the hum of the air filter

Then she stirs, a soft moan, then a bolus of pain meds

This valiant woman, who deftly healed troubled souls

Who brought 3 incredible persons into the world

Equipped them with humor, intelligence

And taught them to love….

Oh this cancer, this scourge, this malevolence

There is no mercy in this wretched process

For her, for me, for those who love her

There is only the ticking clock,

The next medicine alarm

And the sorrow and pain

That is bound to follow.

After Susan's Shiva came the holidays, and I was lucky enough not to have to be home alone during that time. But the return home was somewhat of a shock.

RETURN FROM THE ROAD 01-04-2015

Honey I am home!

Oh crap...
greeted by a dark
and cold
and lifeless abode

The new reality
delayed by visits to loved ones
but now
only tick, tick, tick
The home's heart gone
and my heart broken...

And then came the dark times. Winter compounded by loss, loneliness and sometimes despair.

TIRED OF HEARING IT! 01-14-2015

 The songs all talk of heartbreak

About love lost when he or she departs
But they that leave are still around
And one can dwell on what hope imparts

I lost my love to cancer
Watched her wheeled away
Say my good-byes to a silent photo
A box of ashes has nothing to say.

I lost my love to cancer
She cannot be replaced
Her smile her laugh her honest grit
Will nary be erased

A DAY OF DARKNESS 02-07-2015

Oh shuffle me off this mortal coil
Deliver me from all this pointless toil
Please let me join my princess fair
Whose absence I can scarcely bear

Oh shuffle me off this mortal coil
I’ve no desire to be pacing this cage
There’s nothin’ left I need to attend
Just waiting for my time to be at an end…

THE EMPTY ABODE II 02-24-2015

The ticking of the clocks mark
The passage of time
In this museum of loss
This domicile that death has visited

Outside, the grey spume of winter
Lays upon the land as a dirty coat
Its forbidding sneer exhorting all
To keep away, keep away.

I am jabbed from time to time
By the sharpened needle of loss
Reminding me again and again 
What is no longer mine.

This home was once a place of joy
A place where healing came
Where laughter stalked every room
And warmth and love abounded

Save for sleeping, the pain
Of loss is in me, hour upon hour
And I must hide or be crushed
by the weight of what I know

And then finally, as I worked with a grief group full of amazing people, a hint of sunlight began to appear on the horizon...

A RAY OF SUNLIGHT? 04-07-2015

You said, my love
Before you passed
Tell me you’ll be OK
Promise me you’ll be all right

I miss you more today
Than it’s possible to say
You inhabit me and I do grasp
What I lost on that rueful day

But oddly enough I still can laugh
On Saturdays with our radio shows
Albeit wishing you here to share
Each pun, joke and breathless prose

Wounded, limping but standing yet
I move slowly to be sure
And because I had you for my wife
I can pick up the pieces of my broken life

The Lessons of Life

It can sometimes take a lifetime to learn many of the important things there are to learn from life. As horrific as the grieving process is, it offers many an opportunity for learning, if you are open to those opportunities.

I was raised in a significantly chaotic environment, and as a result, became a person who abhorred surprises and a real black and white thinker.  In addition, I always had to have a plan, regardless of the situation.  All of that sprang from being raised in chaos, and for a time those strategies served me well, or so I thought. My wonderful Susan was able to soften the edges of some of those proclivities over time.  I gradually became less rigid, less insistent on trying to know what would be the outcome of any given situation. She gave the gift of spontaneity,  and in addition, and most importantly, she taught me a heightened sense of self awareness, the ability to witness my own behavior and to understand what I was feeling.

Enter the grieving process. Like a physical illness, passing through the grieving process is not linear. In any given day I will experience joy and despair, hope and desolation, loneliness and companionship, confidence and fear.  They roll by like so many frames of a moving picture. And you have to let the process proceed.  Do not try to distract yourself from it, because it is a process that must take place or healing will not happen. It is important, I have learned, to be as open to life as possible during this process. There is much to learn.

For me, one of the most important lessons I have learned is to be grateful for the 2 decades I had with Susan. I had that. It cannot be taken from me.

As I slowly start to understand that there can be a future with some level of satisfaction; as small rays of light start to show through the curtain blackened by grief, I remain open to the moments of sadness and loss, as well as to the moments of pleasure, amusement and joy.  And it is through all those moments that we can heal from our loss.

Happy Fathers' Day
06-21-2015

 

Grief is not something that goes away, but rather is something that you get used to.  As those of us who have experienced the loss of a spouse know, the loss is a devastating experience, and the pain is proportional to the closeness of the relationship.

In my relationship with Susan, my wife and sweetheart for 20 years, we were partners in nearly everything.  Consequently, when she passed away, I was consumed by my grief.  It seemed as though parts of me were missing, and I had absolutely no interest in anything.  I would wake up in the morning and say to myself "What is the &!^*%$ point?" and could find no answer.

I was lucky, though, to have it together enough to know that I needed help dealing with this grief.  I participated in one particular grief group where all the members became bonded and now get together (long after the official group sessions are over) every other week to try to continue the healing process.  It is a wonderful group of people.  They are men and women who understand, who have, like myself, been robbed of the love of their lives.

In addition, my friends, family and business associates have stayed close and been enormously supportive.

With all that support, I began to move in the direction of healing.  I started to see a bit of light on the horizon.  I looked in the mirror and said to myself one day, "Wait a minute! I am not the one who has died.  I am not the one whose problems are all solved.  I have to go on.   I have to make a life.".

I would be lying if I told you it was all better.  It will never be all better.  A future without my Susan is a future diminished, lacking in depth and color.  But it is for me to make that future as rich and colorful as I possibly can.  But the healing process, the process of "getting used to it" will continue. There will be moments of joy, fun and laughter. There will also be moments of longing, sadness and a strong sense of loss.

But is that not the human condition?