Untitled (9/20/19)
You ever just look over at your partner, lover, and friend and think, “Wow I am still so in love with you.”
You ever just look over at your partner, lover, and friend and think, “Wow I am still so in love with you.”
Death does not happen in a vacuum. (4/21/19)
When my Pop Pop died, I was worried that I had not only lost a person who I loved but also a sense of home, of belonging, of being welcome. My Grandparents house had always been my rock, my center, and when he passed, I was utterly rattled. I accepted that nothing would ever be the same and came to terms with the fact that the feeling of belonging was not going to be repeated.
But I was wrong.
The same feeling comes back to me, now fractured. Instead of being concentrated in two people and one place, I see it across many people, everywhere. The hum of a subway car. When a coworker asks about my weekend. Coming home to find my partner has cooked a warm, yummy meal. Getting a text from a friend that says, “thinking of you.” Being invited to a party. Sharing a look with my partner’s sister at a family dinner that says, “the people we love are CRAZY.” I don’t even know how this is possible, this fracturing. But maybe his passing opened me up in a way. Maybe that’s what Death is supposed to do. Give us a chance to create something out of the pain. A rebirth.
I loved that man so much. And I will continue to miss him. But as time passes, I have realized that Death does not happen in a vacuum. Death does not equal destruction. A fallen tree does not simply disappear. It is broken down and created into many other things— dirt and soil for other trees to grow from and food and homes for lots of little critters. My Pop Pop did not die in a vacuum. His death has only created new space, new soil for rebirth.
I still miss you Pop Pop. But that feeling of belonging is not everywhere. For this, I am grateful.
When my Pop Pop died, I was worried that I had not only lost a person who I loved but also a sense of home, of belonging, of being welcome. My Grandparents house had always been my rock, my center, and when he passed, I was utterly rattled. I accepted that nothing would ever be the same and came to terms with the fact that the feeling of belonging was not going to be repeated.
But I was wrong.
The same feeling comes back to me, now fractured. Instead of being concentrated in two people and one place, I see it across many people, everywhere. The hum of a subway car. When a coworker asks about my weekend. Coming home to find my partner has cooked a warm, yummy meal. Getting a text from a friend that says, “thinking of you.” Being invited to a party. Sharing a look with my partner’s sister at a family dinner that says, “the people we love are CRAZY.” I don’t even know how this is possible, this fracturing. But maybe his passing opened me up in a way. Maybe that’s what Death is supposed to do. Give us a chance to create something out of the pain. A rebirth.
I loved that man so much. And I will continue to miss him. But as time passes, I have realized that Death does not happen in a vacuum. Death does not equal destruction. A fallen tree does not simply disappear. It is broken down and created into many other things— dirt and soil for other trees to grow from and food and homes for lots of little critters. My Pop Pop did not die in a vacuum. His death has only created new space, new soil for rebirth.
I still miss you Pop Pop. But that feeling of belonging is not everywhere. For this, I am grateful.
Despite. (3/18/19)
We love despite the fact that the ones we love will die. We live despite the fact that we know one day we will be forgotten.
I don’t understand mortality and I don’t understand death. All I know is that I loved him despite the fact that I knew he was old. That his bones were breaking. That cancer was everywhere. I love him despite the fact that he is gone. So this must mean love is stronger than even death itself.
We love despite the fact that the ones we love will die. We live despite the fact that we know one day we will be forgotten.
I don’t understand mortality and I don’t understand death. All I know is that I loved him despite the fact that I knew he was old. That his bones were breaking. That cancer was everywhere. I love him despite the fact that he is gone. So this must mean love is stronger than even death itself.
I will tell your story (2/20/19)
You will not be forgotten. My children and my children’s children will tell your story. I will tell them about the sheep and Brooklyn and the phone company. I will tell them about stacking wood and the Jeep and the Germans you helped after WWII, sending over money to starving families even though you had next to none. I will tell them of the moment you met my Grammy, in your suspenders standing next to your best friend at a party, and asking, “Who is that?” I am made of memories and stories. I will tell them.
You will not be forgotten. My children and my children’s children will tell your story. I will tell them about the sheep and Brooklyn and the phone company. I will tell them about stacking wood and the Jeep and the Germans you helped after WWII, sending over money to starving families even though you had next to none. I will tell them of the moment you met my Grammy, in your suspenders standing next to your best friend at a party, and asking, “Who is that?” I am made of memories and stories. I will tell them.
Gone. (2/17/19)
And just like that, he was gone.
And just like that, he was gone.
I am still surprised. (1/29/19)
He is scared to look death in the eye and it shakes me to my core. The thought never occurred to me. How could it? He was always fearless in my eyes. Fearless and very stubborn. But now, as his mind and body fails him, he is afraid. He sees death and he tries to run but he cannot. I cannot blame him. I do not blame him. I simply do not understand. I do not know what it is like- what it will be like- when death knocks at my door. So I do not judge. But I am still surprised.
He is scared to look death in the eye and it shakes me to my core. The thought never occurred to me. How could it? He was always fearless in my eyes. Fearless and very stubborn. But now, as his mind and body fails him, he is afraid. He sees death and he tries to run but he cannot. I cannot blame him. I do not blame him. I simply do not understand. I do not know what it is like- what it will be like- when death knocks at my door. So I do not judge. But I am still surprised.
Missing Summer (12/20/18)
Why is December considered the most wonderful time of the year?
December sucks.
It’s cold and wet and miserable.
You know what my favorite time of the year is?
Summer.
August.
That time when it’s so hot you forget what cold feels like.
That time when you have to go upstate because it’s too hot in the city.
That time when you take a shower and then drip ice cubes down your back and take a dip in the pond all to start sweating again.
But those moments of reprise are sheer bliss.
My favorite hot is when it’s too hot.
Because when December rolls around,
I try to use up all the heat I saved
in August for
the darkest time of the year.
Why is December considered the most wonderful time of the year?
December sucks.
It’s cold and wet and miserable.
You know what my favorite time of the year is?
Summer.
August.
That time when it’s so hot you forget what cold feels like.
That time when you have to go upstate because it’s too hot in the city.
That time when you take a shower and then drip ice cubes down your back and take a dip in the pond all to start sweating again.
But those moments of reprise are sheer bliss.
My favorite hot is when it’s too hot.
Because when December rolls around,
I try to use up all the heat I saved
in August for
the darkest time of the year.
Oak Trees (12/13/18)
The great trees in the forest
these might oaks
the ones that withstood war and strife,
strife and pain, pain and happiness,
happiness and hope,
these mighty trees
crumble
slowly
but they still crumble
regardless of what you do.
I hear the sound
softly
I feel it coming and yet
I still cry.
“The beginning of the end
it’s the beginning of the end,”
these are the words I keep
muttering to myself,
the feeling I can’t shake.
“This is the beginning of the end”
the end of time
of life
of people who were as stable to me
as secure as the moon
or my blankie.
How do oak trees fall?
Sometimes after 10 years of chemo
there hearts start to break.
I will miss you Grammy and Pop Pop
I will add you to my long list of people I will miss
and at the end of my lifetime
I hope you are waiting for me
with you arms wide open
hearts full
knowing that I am finally home
again.
The great trees in the forest
these might oaks
the ones that withstood war and strife,
strife and pain, pain and happiness,
happiness and hope,
these mighty trees
crumble
slowly
but they still crumble
regardless of what you do.
I hear the sound
softly
I feel it coming and yet
I still cry.
“The beginning of the end
it’s the beginning of the end,”
these are the words I keep
muttering to myself,
the feeling I can’t shake.
“This is the beginning of the end”
the end of time
of life
of people who were as stable to me
as secure as the moon
or my blankie.
How do oak trees fall?
Sometimes after 10 years of chemo
there hearts start to break.
I will miss you Grammy and Pop Pop
I will add you to my long list of people I will miss
and at the end of my lifetime
I hope you are waiting for me
with you arms wide open
hearts full
knowing that I am finally home
again.
Love: Life: Death (12/7/18)
Being in love makes me feel very mortal. Like it’s not just about the love. It’s about what comes after it. The house and the kids and the aging. And the death. It makes me feel like so much is set in motion. And I do want these things. But death frightens me. Which is strange. I am okay with bringing life into the world but I don’t know how death is okay. Even though both are natural. And both hurt. But one feels harder than the other.
Being in love makes me feel very mortal. Like it’s not just about the love. It’s about what comes after it. The house and the kids and the aging. And the death. It makes me feel like so much is set in motion. And I do want these things. But death frightens me. Which is strange. I am okay with bringing life into the world but I don’t know how death is okay. Even though both are natural. And both hurt. But one feels harder than the other.
Even Mountains Move (12/6/18)
As my grandparents begin to die,
I am reminded that even
mountains move.
As my grandparents begin to die,
I am reminded that even
mountains move.