Holding Hands

YOUR HANDS

Sitting in this room alone

I feel my hand in yours

As surely as if we’re on an evening walk

Strolling down the street  together

I feel your palm

Quite coarse from woodworking

Soft fuzz on the back of your hand

Your fingers squeezing mine 

In fond recognition of 

Loving camaraderie 

I know your hand entwined in mine

Now resting on the sheet 

Swollen strange and puffed

At the end of an arm full of tubes

As you lay dying

Those young strong hands  

Now elderly and frail and still

Baseball hands. Swinging golf clubs

Draftsman’s hands, always designing

A gardener’s hands, a craftsman

I have the work of your hands all around me

In this old home you refurbished 

Your carpenter hands creating beauty

Were the hands of a dad who could fix anything

Beloved hands

I feel them on my cheek and 

Wish them in my hair and 

Everywhere

Your hands holding me

Our hands holding each other 

For almost 60 years

JoMae

8/21/17

[Re-posted:  9/15/19]

Total Eclipse

ECLIPSE

A  phenomenon of majesty

choreographed by Godde

A grand display of wonder

moved across the sky

An ancient rhythm seldom seen

known and yet unknown

Stars came out to play at noon

the sun slow dancing with the moon

The universe displayed its

grand Divine design

As awe struck creatures

 marvelled

Yesterday

JoMae

8/22/17

Two Faces Into One

TWO FACES OF MY DAYS -

Two opposing tracks weave together in my life these days.  On the one hand, I’m getting used to living in solitary silence.  Even with the radio or TV on, the void is so dense you could cut it with a knife.  I wake to long hours of empty air.  Not feeling very social yet, so no schedule or commitments.  

On the other hand, I wake to an abundance of empty hours and the quiet solitude I’ve always loved and carved out time for.  Now I’m swimming in it and actually making good use of it.  I’m writing my way through this journey.  The blank page each morning has become my good friend!  Some pieces I share and when kudos come, they wrap around me like warm hugs.  

For example, I somehow pulled a muscle in my hip so have stayed in and favored it this week.  Stayed off my feet as much as possible to let it heal.  So it’s been a string of quiet uneventful days.  Phone calls most days, meaningful conversations online, but little or no in person interaction.  

Earlier I joined a private Facebook group for widows and have watched and been impressed with  the caring and encouragement that goes on there. It is a safe place for some to scream their pain and others share small joys of healing. All of us trying to figure out this new world we find ourselves discovering.  Our new normal. Our new identity.  Seeing how our stories, while so different, overlap, the other day I shared one of the piece I’d written about my journey.  The response was kind of overwhelming.  As the hugs and thank yous began to pour in, and women conversed on how my words had helped them, I saw a glimpse of purpose in this quiet week. A sense of confirmation that life has not completely stopped.  That out of this dark silence, perhaps my pondering can bring a bit of solace to another.  A thought which brings me joy.   

JoMae
7/27/17  

Hibernating

MY NEW NORMAL

Most mornings after breakfast, I settle in my chair, open my laptop and think, read and write for a few hours.   I might not step outdoors for almost a week if I don’t need to run to the store. All the while feeling slightly embarrassed about it,  slightly guilty,  sort of a concern that others, if they were aware, would think there is something wrong with me. Wondering, what would people, my own kids, think if they knew how truly I am hibernating here.  As if this is something I must explain or make excuses for. As if this hibernation is abnormal. I know it will not always be this way, and yes it is abnormal - from what life was 7 months ago before John died.  But for now it is my normal.  And it is OK.

This now is my day.  My work.  My purpose.  My joy.  I can send away that ‘shoulds’ monkey on my shoulder and embrace this abundant time of quiet I have for healing and for writing. I can drop the apologetic stance and mindset I’ve been carrying around inside of me. It feels like a sigh of relief!  It is OK!  This is who I am. I will embrace this new routine and gradually modify it over time.   I might even go outdoors and read in the sun for a while this afternoon!  

JoMae

7/19/17