Jubilation

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May 11, 1997

Mother’s Day
1997, a year of jubilation.
A son is born, he looks like his daddy,
offers annoyed looks like his grandpas,
and loves fiercely like his momma.

Family swarms, bluest of eyes smile
he wears Elmo, wants tractors
plays with cowboy Woody,
and completes with ZZ Top for coolest sunglasses.

Sat perfectly in our arms,
long limbs, this boy will be tall
best kisses given
he’d grow into the name Craig Paul

Aunts and Uncles learning, and playing house
first grandchild, those people are adoring,
offer mom and dad a chance to sneak out,
everyone making up for lost time and possible past failings

Growing appears tricky, doctors arrive
Time, we’re told, is on the tough side of fleeting,
quality of life, imperative,
Cockayne Syndrome stealing

With the right one, five years is never enough,
gift from God to teach us,
our minds swarm with lessons learned,
taking each day to move forward with many a celebration, he’s a big brother now, and his name is Mason.

Today, we remember the year 1997 as jubilation.

Prince Oscar

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Eight years ago I packed up two children, our pug and a plant named Maxine. (a plant I received from friends in 1992 when my grandmother passed away) We moved from Texas  to Nebraska in the middle of a divorce. We had nothing. Nothing. Later, finding out even the car I was left to drive away with by my ex-husband no longer had insurance – unbeknownst to me until after we arrived. So when I say nothing, I mean it.
I thought I’d hit rock bottom.

We lived with my brother and his family for 5 months as we waited for a rental property to become available. Until the divorce was final – we had to rent. Sadly, this home we finally found didn’t allow dogs.
My heart broke. The kids’ hearts broke.

My mother, who lived three hours from us, took Prince Oscar the pug into her home. He brightened her world right up as ours darkened even further.

Grateful Oscar had my mom and my mom him. I continue to feel as though I let him down by giving him away and not fighting harder to find a place for him too. 

Today, Prince Oscar went to heaven.

I don’t know that I deserve to grieve.
Yet, I do.

I love you, Oscar. My Pug Prince.

2024

Loss

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when the call comes
time stands down
knees buckle
wind escapes the very breath I needed to speak.
a cry from within –
within me – it shocks,
shocks the very core of my being, a result
everyone warned me of feeling deep inside,
but then regret:
the regret of putting off
everything I should have said when it still mattered.
the searching begins
the desire for proof –
proof we existed together in this world
making the memories we shared valid,
meaningful and somehow important.
but then the awareness arrives,
becoming fully aware
eyes wide open,
there is nothing here to prove our connection;
my love.
lacking tangible evidence of a bond created out of a deep need to feel a part of something I lacked,
is the torture I, until today, didn’t realize I would be living with now forever.

Breathe

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I recognize how important a view like this could be for those seeking.

Deep breath, reminding me of how little we really are comparably.

How creation is here for a purpose and is depended upon.

And instead of sitting in awe, over its splendor,

I morn.

I caught a glimpse of what my soul really needed, felt my head finally clear, rooted in my deepest beliefs and wanted to stay.

Why would God show me and then pull it away.

Defeated.

Too much still depends on me. I can’t give up.

Breathe the azure
Smell the verdant
Touch the pristine

Let go of this grief.

***
What I Would Have Shown You