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.

Window Story

For those of you who liked the hyacinth, I wanted you to see the little vase. Jackie gave it to me years ago. She always brought me little things from her yard sale forays. So sweet.

The balloons, I gave my mom years ago. She kept it in her kitchen window. Looking out her window one would see a beautiful garden and the barn in the distance.

The lighter, the dark object not very clear, was Freddie’s. It states: some days all I want to be is a missing person.

Obviously, I like pink flamingos…I do not need any more!

Wind, Thunder and a story

The winds are angry tonight

Rushing along open spaces

Trees twist and turn

Writhing in pain

As I watch out the kitchen window.

As the undulating waves of wind torture everything in its path.

Thunder parts the clouds

Allowing the lightning

To zig zag up towards the sky

Thunder growling and groaning.

As I listening to the softly falling rain.

Story:

I told Freddie: I am not going to write about my grief and memories of you…walking back down the hall towards my room, the wind became very anger above our little house. Was it angry with me?

Is the Universe talking to me?

We both loved the rain. Listen to the rain. The answer is held within the raindrops.

Listen to the rain.

I Am Grateful

I am grateful you lived

for 54 years 6 months and 14 days

I am grateful you held my hand twice

and asked me not to go

I am grateful I stayed

to drive the roads and make the memories

I now have of us

I am grateful  you walked these floors

for four of your 18 years here

with me

I am grateful you sang songs

until almost the end

I am grateful I was allowed to spend

those last months of your life with you

I am grateful I was allowed to spend

time in your lovely home with you

I am grateful the words were not

always harsh and we could say

I love you

I am grateful for the time you gave

sharing

your GLXP dreams with me

I am grateful for this computer of yours

I type on now that still has your

fingerprints on the screen

I am grateful I have your paintings

to enjoy even though they bring pain

at times as I look at them and

remember you as a 12 year old

I am grateful  your friends have

supported me in my grief

they come from all over the world

to ask how I am and to express their own

loss of you

I am grateful you touched so many lives

in such a positive manner

I am grateful you lived

and God gave you to me

to rear and then share

you with the world to see

your kind heart

 

I keep typing all these things

to ebb the flow of tears

Sunday at three zero five

the time you died

on a Sunday.

I am grateful the rain

is falling now to mingle with

my tears and perhaps

one tiny drop of rain will

fall upon your soul and’

and you can reach out

and touch my hand

again.

Love, Mom