Rain

rain falling gently now

I do not sleep

Freddie said “I love to hear the rain” and I said “I do too.”

To walk through his house again to smell the smell of his house and the redwood trees to visualize him pushing his walker down the hall stopping briefly at the living room door where I slept on the couch to say “Mom I am sorry about the things I said last night.” and I would answer “I am sorry as well for my behavior. I love you.” and he would go into the kitchen to make his breakfast or take his medicine.

To see him feed his worms; work in his tomato pots on the gorgeous deck, in the sun; eat watermelon with his friend, Ron, who came for an hour each Wednesday. He did not have many visitors dropping by because of his illness.

I wish I had not said “Stop playing with your phone and try to sleep”

The phone was his connection to the world; I should have known because it was my connection to the world as well, then as now. Oh, that hind sight could be zero and present sight could be 20/20.

to hear him call me during the night “Mom, I am going to be sick”

to hold the basin and clean it after he vomited

to pull up the syringes for him even though I simple could not bring myself to give him the shot, rescue shot, in the abdomen. I wish I could have but it hurt me to much to think about it. My fear of hurting him. He hated giving himself the shop but he needed it to live.

i could have learned on an orange.

I must tell all the stories before I forget.  I have to write my way through this if I am going to live.

The Seed Packets

The Zinna

The Seed Packets

—Dr. Manh Dang, Author
 
The Seed Packets
 
Over the years she brought them home,  
those seed packets to plant someday. 
Each one a bud of dream alive 
that in due time flowers will bloom —
petals of red on stems of green,  
pistils of white with hearts of gold. 
Colors abound in fragrant scents 
that calm one’s soul and soothe all pain.  
 
But time has passed with life embroiled; 
her garden stayed a barren soil.
Duty and work and cancer came.
Though hope besought what life couldn’t give
those seed packets remained within 
kitchen drawers, planting deferred. 
 
Pensive moments remind her when  
her sweet mother grew flowers then, 
and taught her well what each would mean: 
symbols and signs love may presume. 
Her most cherished is this small bloom,
“Zinnia” the name in its glory. 
“Enduring love” is its symbol assumed.  
 
Like a river life swiftly flows 
through the seasons leaves come and go. 
Mom has long gone into God’s arms. 
Sweet smiles of hers are shadows now.
and her soft touch is revery.
Her voice echoes in memory. 
 
Then on one day by chance she found
the seeds burried in corners there. 
Believing that they’ve aged so long, 
the life within dried up by now, 
she threw them out for birds to glean. 
Some scattered in the summer breeze. 
Some landed where their fate may please. 
 
Decends the rain from summer clouds. 
A few weeks pass; her garden greens. 
One morning as the mist just clears, 
She steps outside to greet the dawn;
Her eyes behold what she held dear —
A Zinnia…in a planter…blooms! 
 
Reaching heaven is a bridge too far 
but love sets sail from heaven’s stars. 
So this morning, as the sun climbs,
from an old seed comes love abloom. 
From high above mom comes a smile. 
Despite the fog the years may bring, 
love finds its path into the clear. 
Heaven and earth love has brought near. 
 
Reaching heaven is a bridge too far
but from a seed of love without 
she sees within love still abounds; 
she sees within love blooms year round…
 
Photo credit: The Zinnia, by Linda Bourgeois, PhD
 
I have modified what Dr. Dang wrote about me in his post on FaceBook. He was my oncologist until he retired and now writes beautiful poetry.   I was honored he chose my humble little Zinna for a poem.
 
“This poem is written in dedication to all cancer survivors. It is inspired by Ms. Bourgeois’ relationship with her mother, the true story she shared with me about the “chance” Zinnia, and her journey as a Neuroendocrine cancer survivor.”
 
“She is a psychologist, an author, a patient, and a friend of CCI. In her previous life, she was an”
 
Administrator of a Women’s Community Health Center, a University Instructor in Psychology, and her last position was as a Diversity Director at Mississippi Valley State University, an all black University in the MS Delta, Representative Bennie Thompson’s district, and the poorest of the poor in the United States, live in this region.
 
“Her message to fellow cancer survivors is, ‘Always believe you are living your best life.'”
 
“Thank you, Linda, for sharing your journey and for your service!”
Dr. Dangs words are within quotation marks; mine are not.
—
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Cancer

Today has been a sad day. One of my friends husband was just diagnosed with cancer. He is just starting his journey with a rare disease; I have five years into my journey with a rare cancer diagnose.

It is hard to believe five years have passed. I lived my life; took care of my son; took care of my sister and brother-in-law, holding his hand as he transitioned to the other realm I like to call Heaven.

Purpleborough is my Heaven here on earth because I can just write and write and know few will read which is the point. I believe that you must write for yourself first. If other persons find something that touches them and I have helped just one person, one is enough.

The journey has not always been easy but as one of my soul mates said you have to Bloom where You Are. I have retreated from the world but am slowly making my way back. I had/have prolonged grieving which is now in the DSM as a mental disorder. I am not crazy. I never was. Just lost.

I am sure I will write more about my journey because I think I have written so much about Freddie I think if I write about him it will be all the good memories.

My heart hurts for my friend. Like me, she has no family over here. Unlike me, she has a good support system. Her church family and others she has met along the way through all her varied activities will be there for her. All I can do is listen and hope that anything I have to say will be helpful.

Crossover

Do you live in an alternate universe?

Is your day filled with thoughts of things

undone you wish you had broken out of the mould to do?

Do you dream of yesteryear?

I went to Purpleborough to find my answers and discovered once again the beauty of not living amongst real people; these little people gathered throughout my life were my people. I was not invisible to them. The train still ran; the circus had grown to every corner of the world much to my dismay; it was supposed to be for children and grown folk who still had that child hidden deep within. So really all I could do in Purple borough was to see the stars and watch the clouds as they burst out from the tumbling world to be seen on our side not the other side. Purpleborough was still in my heart and head and it was where I belonged among the cockle-berries and sunflowers; I wondered if my ancestors who had gone on before me were watching over Purpleborough and me.

I wondered if they would understand the loneliness I had created myself. But now the game; the but game. I did the best I could. Did you? I knew I could have been better but indeed had lived up to the expectations of everyone who thought they knew me. No one ever did because I kept me locked away and said, “I’m fine.” It was what the other person wanted to here. Not the litany of how I really was or thought I was.

Outliers are so out of step with the “in” people. No , you cannot go home again. No one is there.

Walking and Living with Grief

December 18, 2016 never goes away in my head or heart however, I have learned to look at the good memories and to laugh. Oh yes, I still cry but not every day as I use to do. Every night I say Goodnight Freddie, God and all my loved ones. After 5 1/2 years it is a habit. Habits are hard to break.

How am I doing? “Fair to middling” as my grandmother would always say. She lived to be almost 96 without doctors and medicines. I do not ever remember her being sick. She would have the “Thumps” whatever that meant. I think it meant her heart would be beating to rapidly but it would go away and Grannie would always keep going. Her first born son died at an early age with a burst appendix; a second son died with I do not know what; a daughter died with breast cancer and her husband died with stomach cancer, they think. Back them who knew. How did she survive? By keeping on with her life and her love of visiting distance kinfolk. I only remember her coming to our house one time when Freddie was 2, before he had his first surgery…before I knew I was not crazy and there was something wrong with him.

Mother’s first husband died.

Death calls on all of us in some way or the other, in time.

I was not going to write about Death. My fingers did this post. My brain is still alive and I am doing some things to make sure it can still read, think and remember. I am taking a C.S. Lewis Course from Hillsdale College called “The Abolition of Man.” I took the first test and missed one question. That is not saying much since there were only ten and they were multiple choice. Dumbed down I guess for those of us taking it for free. But who knows. The professors have been interesting.

I think I am having a hard time writing again. I think a lot of things. It must be reviewing my life before death. I have so many things I would like to do but find I am a little weaker than I use to be but why did I ever think I had to pick up heavy boxes? Much better to ask someone for help.

I often wonder if I ever had a soul mate. I wrote a five page story about whom I think my soul mate was but he and his wife are still alive so I cannot publish the story, true though it may be.

I took all my WordPress blog post and made books with Draft2Digital. I do not know why I thought I had to do that when they are all right here for anyone to read. But I am getting royalty checks. I wonder who is paying for these thoughts of mine? Not many but one was too many.

I shall stop today. Do I eat? Sometimes but no longer a Fat Granny as I once was. And today I finished packing two boxes of things to go to my grandson at VA Tech; had them put in the car by my delightful yard person, and the guy at the Post Office said they would go out to my car to carry them in. Isn’t that nice in today’s world when so few people work. So tomorrow I will take them to the Post Office after my chiropractic visit at 10:15.

Where are the photos? Why on my iPhone, of course! Nothing to see here.

Can you go back home again

Photos tell stories. I am not a good photographer, and I sure do not understand this new WP. Why do Tech people think we need to upgrade? The wheel is not broken, why fix it?

When I trimmed my daughters bushes/trees out back!

Jackie wanted to clear out these bushes because they were all tangled together, so I said I would do it because I knew how. After a trip to Home Depot and new trimmers, this is the result. She took my trimmers away and said I could never trim again!

At home I trimmed my bushes. I do not know why I became trimmer happy!

Can’t say I blame her; they look kinda bad. Good news. They grew back. We still laugh.

MAD TRIMMER strikes again!

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