Knock, Knock

     Knock, knock.  She coughed, fresh blood peppering her handkerchief.   Bone weary, rankled with pain, her breaths shallow and spare.    Knock, knock.  Persistent knocking, rattling her brains.  Enough!   Flinging open the door, embracing death, welcoming everlasting life.   The valiant warrior succumbs. Sweet relief.

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Freedom

“You left college,

forfeited your marriage,

 your friends,
 and your life…

  to care for me.”  

 Damn tears!  Cancer sucks!

Mama pleaded, grasping my hand.

 “Promise me...

 to live life,
 chase dreams,

 love.
  Experience everything...”

Sighing,
 she relaxed and welcomed eternity with grace.

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Circle Haiku

infinite journey

life evolving, birth to death

life everlasting

Inspired by the prompt at

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All that Remains

My tears fall as I trace the letters, desperately longing for only you: 

first, last, and middle initial, dates, and loving epitaph. 

 Sadly, there is so little left to physically mark your presence here.  

Years pass, memories fade, but my love lingers.

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Return Haiku

life continuing

a ghostly reappearance

hesitant farewell

Inspired by the prompt at

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Into the Sunset

      Sitting on the sun kissed deserted beach, Theresa gazed out at the vast turquoise blue ocean that spread out before her and met the horizon.  Seagulls swooped down to the rolling waves, peppering the breeze with their melodious caws. The late afternoon sun warmed her face, the sand felt deliciously warm as she dug in her toes, and sifted through her fingertips. Here she felt at peace, in the isolation with only the sounds of the ocean and the seagull’s symphony to lull her. Here she could almost ignore the horrendous pain that overwhelmed her from the damn cancer that was quickly consuming her body and extinguishing her life force. This is where she wanted to be, forever.  

       Four weeks later, with her eyes filled with tearful determination; her daughter spread Theresa’s ashes to the wind as a beautiful orange sun set into the horizon. 

 “Goodbye Mama, I will love you forever and can’t wait until we are together again.” 

    With a heavy heart, Melissa walked slowly back up the beach determined never to forget her mother’s gentle soul and bubbly laugh, at peace with the knowledge that she had fulfilled her mother’s final wishes.

 This was written for the first day of the Write Tribe Festival of Words 3.  We were to write a fictional story using only 9 sentences.

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Fleeing From the Pain

This fictional story was written for Write Tribe's "Hemingway this Wednesday" writing prompt.  I chose the quote “You can’t get away from yourself by moving from one place to another.”  taken from Hemingway's "The Sun Also Rises" to build my story 
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        It was hard to believe a month had passed since the funeral.  She still expected to round a corner and see her husband sitting in his favorite chair watching the football game or out in the garage tinkering.  She would call his name and then remember, he would never answer her again.  He was dead and gone from her forever.   Not a moment went by that she didn’t think of him.  Not a day went by that she didn’t long for him.  There was always something new to tell him.  The most mundane things really, still something she would have always told him about.  Her heart ached, and the pain was palpable.

         Jack was only 50 when he died.  Not really old at all.  He had his whole life ahead of him when he was diagnosed with cancer.  Though afraid, he had fought valiantly and assured her he was going nowhere.   He would win this battle.  Only he hadn’t.  The cancer had won and left her a widow at 48 with her whole life stretching before her in an empty chasm of loneliness.  She had thrown herself into her work.    She worked tirelessly long hours.  She never slept anymore and rarely ate enough to keep a bird alive.  She knew family and friends worried about her and talked about her behind her back.  She didn’t care.  Jack was gone and her life was over.  The home they shared seemed too big to her now.  She wandered around looking for Jack remembering everything constantly in tears.

           She encouraged the kids to return to their lives.  Go back to college she told her youngest.  You have your own family she told her oldest.  Don’t worry about me she told them both.  I will be just fine, she assured them all.  It wasn’t until almost another month passed when she decided to sell the home they shared and start a new life for herself in a new city.    She packed up her memories and moved closer to where her children now lived.  The only problem was that despite the fact that the new house was lovely and she loved the area, she realized she still loved and desperately missed Jack and their old life.  No, he had never been to this place but his spirit followed her in her mind and heart.  She still longed for him.  He was a vital part of her and always would be.  They had shared a happy life together and now that was over.  He was gone, and she was still here.

 

          She soon realized she couldn’t run or hide from her grief and memories. They followed her everywhere she went.  She soon understood that you can’t get away from yourself by moving one place to another.  Only the passage of time would heal her broken heart and soothe the pain felt from Jack’s death.  Moving to a new home or city is simply geography and the heartache followed her and was just as strong there as at home.

         Her life would go on without him.  She would make new memories on her own and follow the path God had for her.  In time she would find happiness again while she carried the memory of Jack deep in her heart forever.

Stuck in a Rut? Muse Died? :-( BFF 226

      What do I write about today?  There are days like today when I wonder why I ever signed up to write daily with the NaBloPoMo challenge.  I am just lazy as hell on weekends.  For me, Friday is technically weekend.  It is the beginning whether the kids have to go to school or not.  It calls me!!  Because of this I often find it difficult to sit still at the computer and type any form of coherent thought.  Whether my muse has died or not, I will persevere. 

      What do you do when your muse goes toe up and digs its own hole?  What do I do?  Sit down and bull$hit my way through. That is exactly what I do.  My mom used to always say “Money talks and bull$hit walks!”  Yes indeedy, this is the moment my bull$hit is working itself into a jog.  I have been up since the butt crack of dawn.  I woke to a cold rainy day and dragged my sorry a$$ out of bed knowing that it was my duty to wake both kids and ready them for school.  Both of my kid’s bus stops have been changed this year to where they both have to walk a ways before they can even hope to board the bus.  To make matters worse, the powers that be decided to dig up our road this week and replace it with a new coat of asphalt.  This made the normal walk to the bus stop a little more complicated because no one could guess just where the hell the bus stop actually was.  

       My daughter’s bus driver refused to drive on dirt.  Once the asphalt was laid down, she refused to drive on that too.  She would plow through the side streets maneuvering carefully around the pylons.  Once all the kids were off the bus, her give a damn busted completely and she plowed over one of the offending pylons like a bat out of hell.  My kids not only witnessed this spectacle, they ran down the street to get a closer look laughing their fool heads off in the process.  Well hells bells, it was funny!

         This morning the rain poured down.  The dogs refused to stick their noses outside.  Quite frankly I had absolutely no intention of making either of my kids stomp off through the rain to G0d knows where to figure out just exactly where the bus would stop.  I got dressed like the trooper I am and took them both to school delivering each right to the front door of their respective schools.

         I made a run on the bank and withdrew every dime I possessed without closing the account completely and took off to pay the chosen bills  lucky enough to be paid this week.  Then I had another dilemma.  My daughter is off to camp with her class Monday so I needed to find some form of luggage for her to pack her gear in.  My journeys took me to Wal-Mart, the Dollar Tree, and to grab go juice and groceries.  Once home I realized it was practically time for the bus to show up again.  Where did the day go??  Wherever it went, it went in a big a$$ hurry.  So you see, even though my muse appeared dead a little bull$hit carried me through another blog until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.

Déjà Vu

I have struggled and racked my brain for a Deja Vu moment in response to this weeks challenge. My mind kept coming back to a topic which I have touched on many times before here on my blog.  While the subject matter is repetitive,  I lived it, and it is all I got.  As much as the events described in this story were pivotal points in my life, I can't imagine anyone who has loved and lost a parent,  child, or  spouse not being forever changed by their lives and deaths.  With that being said, I hope you enjoy reading my story in spite of the subject matter.  A teacher once told me to write what I know, so in response to this week's prompt, I have done just that.

     I woke early to the insistent meows of my cat.  I opened one eye, and then another.  The sun was blinding.  I peered over to my alarm clock and saw that it was shortly after 8 in the morning.  Now that I was awake, I had to pee.   There was no question about it.  I might as well get up, feed the cat, and check on my mom.  The night before had been rough and I hoped she was able to get some rest.  The disease was taking its toll.  I had been exhausted physically and mentally and had hit my pillow and fell instantly asleep the night before.  She had slept in her recliner.  It had been such an effort the previous day for her to get there from the bedroom that I simply had covered her with my graduation quilt and left her there.

      She looked peaceful as I passed by her on my way to the kitchen to feed the cat.  The cat was happy.  I hope my mom feels better this morning because yesterday had been one of her bad days.  I approached quietly and spoke to her.  She didn’t respond.  On she slept.  I touched her face.  It was ice cold, and instead of being pliable she felt hard.  I backed away in horror.  Tears sprang to my eyes as I rushed to the phone and dialed the next door neighbor’s number.  “I can’t wake my mom up!!  I think she is dead!! Come quick!!  I don’t know what to do!” I sobbed.  They told me they would be right over to confirm what I already knew.  My mom was gone.  I was alone and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

       Years later I had lunch with my dad one winter afternoon.  After doing his laundry and tidying up his house he had suggested we drive to Wendy’s for a bite and then I and my daughter could go on home and he would return to his house.  While we ate our burgers and fries we talked.  I noticed that out of the clear blue he started talking absolute nonsense and seemed confused.  We made light of it and went on.  I wasn’t worried at the time.  My thoughts were focused on the fact that my husband would be home that night.  I asked my Dad if he wanted us to call when my husband got home no matter how late like usual.  He shook his head no, claimed he was tired and would probably go to bed early.  That night when my husband arrived, we called anyway.  The phone rang off the hook then the answering machine came on.  I assumed he was asleep.  All the next day I tried unsuccessfully to reach my Dad.  By that night I was beginning to worry.  We decided to drop by his house and find out if he was OK.

         Something wasn’t right.  My Dad’s truck was covered in snow and it was obvious he hadn’t been anywhere because there were no tracks.  The house was dark.  Maybe he was sleeping.  I dug in my purse for my key and left my husband and daughter waiting in the truck while I went in the house.  I called out as I entered and noticed the bathroom and bedroom lights were on.   As I rounded the corner I saw him.  I experienced déjà vu.  For a brief moment I saw my mother lying dead before me instead of my Dad.  Terror washed over me as I rushed into the room.  My Dad was sprawled face down on the bedroom floor.  He was lying at an odd angle over the exposed bed frame.  There was blood.  “Oh G0d no, this can’t be happening again! Not my Dad too!  He is dead!!”  As I dropped to the floor beside him he tried to speak and I realized he was still alive.  I couldn’t understand him.  “I am going to get help!!”  I ran back outside and motioned for my husband to come explaining as we ran what I had discovered.  We turned him over on his back and then I called 911.

       I had experienced this terror before.  I had experienced the same heartache and devastation.  Here I was again.  This time, it wasn’t my mom.  It was my Dad.  The outcome was still devastating.  It was a moment of déjà vu that I hope I never have to repeat again with someone I love.  G0d certainly would never assume I was strong enough to withstand a shock of that magnitude more than twice in one lifetime.

Two Perspectives: Strength to Go On

This was written for the GBE2.  We were asked to write two different perspectives of the same story.

          She watched her daughter fuss and worry. They had such good times through it all.  She had been devastated when the cancer had been discovered. Then she learned that there was nothing that could be done to stop it.  Damn cancer to hell.  She was still young.  There was so much that she still wanted to do with her life!!  

           Since then she had endured unimaginable pain and torturous treatments in an effort to add another day or hour to her life.  She had persevered with a steely determination to do all the things she most wanted despite the pain.   Thank G0d for morphine and the doctor who prescribed it.  Finally she had made her peace with the inevitable.  It is not like she had a choice.  Life can be a bitch, and then you die.  Bless her daughter; she was optimistic in spite of the truth.    She was the only one who never faltered and knew just what to do when.   It was past time for her to begin her life unencumbered by the demands of taking care of a sick person.  She had her chance to live, and in her mind she had lived well.  The fight was over, and the time had come to say goodbye.

            She hoped that she conveyed how much she loved her and appreciated the sacrifices she had made to be there for her.  “I love you.  I can never thank you enough for all you have done for me.  You were always there for me.  Go to bed. You will need your rest.  You will be fine and I will be fine too.”  She kissed her daughter one last time and watched her go off to bed.  Closing her eyes, she left the pain behind and went on into the light.

  

      Mom looked exhausted.  She seemed to be resting comfortably in the recliner and the morphine was doing its job for the moment.  I stayed nearby and read my book.  Fear gripped my heart and my thoughts.  “If she gets much worse, I don’t know if I can take care of her anymore.  I won’t know what to do!!  I won’t know how to help her!!  Oh G0d, please help me to be there for her and do what I must!!  Surely tomorrow will be better.  She will rally after so much rest today.” I thought to myself.

      Life had spun out of control since the cancer diagnosis.  My divorce was final; my marriage a memory.  My temporary job had ended and I had quit school unable to keep up with all its demands.  Mom had been determined to go on with life as usual despite daily treatments and appointments.    Now all I did was see to her needs the best I could.  There had been some good times too.  Road trips, Notre Dame Football games, and laughter amid the horrifying treatments and the nights filled with screams of agony.  We had such fun together! Life was just better with my mother in it.  Mama simply had to get well!!

      I went to her, adjusted the quilt, smoothed the hair from her face, and held her hand. She opened her eyes, smiled, and grasped my hand tenderly. Her eyes seemed magnified.   “I love you.  I can never thank you enough for all you have done for me.    Go to bed. You will need your rest.  You will be fine, and I will be fine too.”  Tears clouded my vision.  “Tomorrow will be a better day!  I love you mama.”  I fell into a dreamless sleep with a prayer for strength to go on.