I see her today,ending the day doing the last dish while yelling for the kids to get along. Those spotted wrinkled hands wring out the dish rag. She pushes the stray hair from her eyes,the color of what ever currently was on sale. Though dyed as often as possible is still remained speckled with timeless grey,and continually found its way from her pony tail to tickle her face. She looks tired, is she or is it just relief,glad to complete another day. Another day that she is thankful to have had. Readying herself to lay next to the only man she has ever loved. She finishes each day with her prayers for another day. She turns and I can see her better,there are no children just memories of them as they have all grown and moved on. They are now in their own kitchens readying their children for bed. She isn’t truly here she is but a light creeping thru the crack of memories door. As she turns and heads to bed it is memories alone that she sleeps with as he has been gone 13 years now. He was her strength, her half , her wholeness. There are still days that she rushes home from work to tell him a joke she had heard. Often unconscious to the reality that he is gone until she enters their home and is met not by his smile but by the endless silence. Much like when a person looses an arm or a leg there are days when you still feel it, like it was never torn from you. You know its gone but like a ghost you still sense it, feel it. A part of you still lives with it. She lives alone at night, we as her children cannot take his place, nothing can. Like his smell I will never forget the way my dad smelled,isn’t that odd. His voice has long slipped from my memory, but his scent will forever be there. What is it like for her,a love so strong so lasting. They were together forever yet not long at all!
As she goes to bed she hugs her pillow,she tells him of all the things that compiled her day. She talks to him for comfort. Sharing the minutes of her day are the only comfort she has. Talking to his memory is the only arms that will hold her. Once strong arms held her at night. Now memories encompass her as his arms used to. Comfort is found in knowing one day they would hold each other again. But for now she faces the night, she says her prayers she thanks the lord for the day she has had and asks that if it be his will she will see another day. All the while knowing that if the sun rose in the morning and her eyes did not open she would not be saddened. If she awoke in another place with the man she loved and her first born taken to soon she would be OK. She would miss us but to see him again to feel his arms not just the memory of, would be okay by her. This comforts her as she closes her eyes. A peace that is as comforting as it can be , as peaceful as her sleep can be her eyes close as she steps into his arms. As darkness closes she is hopeful that the sun will rise and her eyes will open not to the sunshine of a new day. They will peacefully open into a new journey that is walked within the arms of love. Where new and old memories become her reality………… Land of Rose WordPress.com / barkyrose.blog.com
The cool summers air surrounds me as I sit on the porch biding another day good bye. In the winds I smell the scent of a wood stove near by. How easily our senses are triggered, summer nights growing up. We were not of the air conditioner crowd! Summers were a windows open experience. Some times leading to a cool summers breeze. Other times you sat near the window praying for any breeze to cool the raging summer air. I can’t help but smile, a life time child of the wood stove. The times of cutting wood in the deepest of snow because we ran out before spring. Occasionally waking up chilled because the fire had gone out. The smell was such a part of you it was unnoticed till you were away from it for a while. The scent of a wood stove takes my thoughts and heart back to him. Wood stove and pipe tobacco, two smells that will always bring comfort and a tinge of sadness into my heart. Tonight in the moonlight I can see his smile. It was always a little mischievous, his deep blue eyes that sparkled so. The same eyes that could fire sparks if you misbehaved. Ironic isn’t it; summer evenings he would smoke his last cigarette and tell us all good night. Lock the doors ,shut off the lights and bid another day good bye. As I to put out my last smoke for the day , I turn to lock the doors and shut off the lights. I call to my children a good night and love you. For these few traits of his I mimic or carry I am grateful. I hope that I carry more than this in his likeness. Though little money he helped anyone who asked. He was kind yet strong ,a poor mans generous. As I lay down to sleep I am thankful for the blessing of a summers night. For memories and the tears and joy they bring. For the man I married and my father (passed on now almost 20 years), both strong amazing men. For my children ,one with the bluest of eyes, two with the generosity and fire in their hearts that would rival his. Closing my eyes I can only hope I live a life helping others as he did. Being the strength or comfort for others when needed. In the moonlight of a summers night and every day that the sun shines I am proud. Drifting to sleep, I bid another day good bye, proud to be my fathers daughter !
Land of Rose WordPress.com / barkyrose.blog.com
Anniversary; a celebration of love and commitment etched in time. A date shared with friends and family, moments filled with smiles and laughter. I can remember their anniversary, he always brought her rose’s. Sometimes joking ,sometimes with an edge of grumpiness she would tell him ” why roses, I’m not your mother”. Every year thru fortune and misfortune they held strong. Not at all story book style, arguments were as frequent as hugs and kisses. She always said in all those years that they never slept apart no matter what crisis mandated the day. If one went they both went, an old style love. A warm feeling holds me as memories take me back to anniversary’s past. We talked tonight it had been to long, with a sigh she ask the question that I knew would come. In that voice that is forever mom she says “did you call to say hi or is it because of what day it is”. How do you answer, of course I know what day it is ! This year , it will be 20 years that she faced this date alone. Soon to be 20 years since anyone called to wish them a Happy Anniversary. Trying to speak with voice not breaking I said of course I knew. There are no words from that point that will offer comfort. In her very breath I could not only hear but sense her pain and loneliness. On this night it is hard to relive the many happy memories that were. Hard to speak when I knew that soon she would go to bed. For 20 years the bed they once shared now offers only lonely restless sleep. In the land of Rose I would grant minutes from heaven on these special dates. Just seconds , a mere moment to touch and verify that the journey will one day bring them together again. We talk with polite conversation, the date and what it represents weighs heavy in the air. I can’t help but wipe a tear as we say good night and love you. I would in a flash get dressed and go sit with her, yet we both know that there will be no comfort tonight. Tonight in our evening prayers we will both pray for sleep. A dream filled sleep containing only the most joyful of anniversary memories. Happy Anniversary John and Angelica Duncan. A love worth celebrating…Land of Rose WordPress.com / barkyrose.blog.com