The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost
TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
15 September 2011
14 November 2009
There are the Years
These are the Years
These are the years, the gentle years,
the soft and sentimental years
when wee little fingers
reach and touch
and little eyes gaze
with wonder and trust,
when you love so tenderly
and so so much,
these are the gentle years.
These are the years, the rainbow years,
the quiet, walk-on-tiptoes years,
the years of laughter
and smiles and sighs
when both of you watch
with misty eyes
the tiny bed
where a cherub lies,
these are the rainbow years.
These are the years, the tender years,
the blissful, sweet-surrender years,
when your little treasure
from above
is the soul and purpose
and center of
your plans and dreams
and dearest love,
these are the tender years.
- Barbara Burrow
These are the years, the gentle years,
the soft and sentimental years
when wee little fingers
reach and touch
and little eyes gaze
with wonder and trust,
when you love so tenderly
and so so much,
these are the gentle years.
These are the years, the rainbow years,
the quiet, walk-on-tiptoes years,
the years of laughter
and smiles and sighs
when both of you watch
with misty eyes
the tiny bed
where a cherub lies,
these are the rainbow years.
These are the years, the tender years,
the blissful, sweet-surrender years,
when your little treasure
from above
is the soul and purpose
and center of
your plans and dreams
and dearest love,
these are the tender years.
- Barbara Burrow
10 November 2009
November Spawned a Monster: An Ode to the Month of B's Birth ;)
November Spawned a Monster -Morrissey
Sleep on and dream of love
Because it's the closest you will
Get to love
Poor twisted child
So ugly, so ugly
The poor twisted child
Oh hug me, oh hug me
One November
Spawned a monster
In the shape of this child
Who later cried :
"But Jesus made me, so
Jesus save me from
pity, sympathy
And people discussing me
A frame of useless limbs
What can make good of
the bad that's been done?"
And if the lights were out
Could you even bear
To kiss her full on the mouth
(Or anywhere?) ohh..no
Poor twisted child
So ugly, so ugly
Poor twisted child
Oh hug me, oh hug me
One November
Spawned a monster
In the shape of this child
Who must remain
A hostage to kindness
And the wheels underneath her
A hostage to the kindness
And the wheels underneath her
A symbol of where mad, mad lovers
Must pause and draw the line.
So sleep and dream of love
Cause it's the closest
You will get to love ohh
Love
That November
Is a time
Which I must
Put out of my mind
Oh, one fine day
Let it be soon
She won't be rich or beautiful
But she'll be walking your streets
In the clothes that she went out
And chose for herself
Sleep on and dream of love
Because it's the closest you will
Get to love
Poor twisted child
So ugly, so ugly
The poor twisted child
Oh hug me, oh hug me
One November
Spawned a monster
In the shape of this child
Who later cried :
"But Jesus made me, so
Jesus save me from
pity, sympathy
And people discussing me
A frame of useless limbs
What can make good of
the bad that's been done?"
And if the lights were out
Could you even bear
To kiss her full on the mouth
(Or anywhere?) ohh..no
Poor twisted child
So ugly, so ugly
Poor twisted child
Oh hug me, oh hug me
One November
Spawned a monster
In the shape of this child
Who must remain
A hostage to kindness
And the wheels underneath her
A hostage to the kindness
And the wheels underneath her
A symbol of where mad, mad lovers
Must pause and draw the line.
So sleep and dream of love
Cause it's the closest
You will get to love ohh
Love
That November
Is a time
Which I must
Put out of my mind
Oh, one fine day
Let it be soon
She won't be rich or beautiful
But she'll be walking your streets
In the clothes that she went out
And chose for herself
08 November 2009
Coincidence or Craziness?
On the 4th of October, Malachy passed away.
On the 4th of November, Bernard broke his fifth metatarsal of his left foot.
It is with great anticipation that I await the 4th of December.
On the 4th of November, Bernard broke his fifth metatarsal of his left foot.
It is with great anticipation that I await the 4th of December.
I Shall Close My Eyes
I am really missing my puppy dog right now. It still seems so quiet without him, especially in the tranquility of the night. I shall close my eyes, and for a fleeting moment, he will once again be in my arms...if only in my mind.
01 November 2009
29 October 2009
A Day's Concerns
Today rated a bit more difficult on the scale. I drove to Saint Paul to chat with Y this morning. I am able talk with her with some degree of comfort, but still feel a bit uneasy. After all, she is not M. The aftermath is oftentimes more difficult as the topics of discussion seem to *soak in* following our time. I felt increasing sadness and despair as the day went on. The anxiety was not to be mitigated, so it seems.
I have been trying desperately to incorporate a *pick-u/clean-up* routine with the kids. My attempts have thus far been unsuccessful. Eamon resists and resists and often makes excuses as to why he is unable to pick up his toys at that particular moment in time. The more toys that carpet the floor, the more frustrated and overwhelmed he becomes. Well, frankly, his mother becomes frustrated and overwhelmed, too. We have such limited space in this house so toys, clothes, papers, bills, books etc, strewn about take up considerable real estate. I think this feeling of having so much clutter and *stuff* will be less of a factor if when ever move. However, we live here now and we need to make the most of the space we have. I see this as putting items away after use and keeping up with the clutter. I am the only one that appears to suffer from anxiety related to the mess, clutter, and lack of space. I want some order. I want cleanliness. I am tired of the chaos. It is driving me crazy!!!
I do not know what to do with Eamon. Yeterday, he told me I was a "bad mommy." Maybe I am, as I am so incredibly frustrated with him at this point. He is so oppositional, so deviant, so insolent at times. He will sometimes refuse to answer my questions. He will yell at me. He will hit me. He will tell benign lies, but lies, nonetheless. He will refuse my requests. At times, he will snuggle with me but usually as a means to an end. He thinks that if he is *nice* to me, then I will allow him extra Wii time. I wonder how I can be firm and strong with him but also loving and nurturing. I understand that he is exploring much that is new...new school, new friends, new schedule, new expectations, new responsibilities. I am trying to be patient and understanding. Instead I feel worn out at times and fixated on the clock. How long until bedtime? How many hours? How many minutes? When will he be asleep? When will I have a chance to decompress and evaluate. When will I have a chance to cry. Alone. I feel as if I am running on reserve fuel. I am getting a bit worn out. I need to figure out how to renew and strengthen myself.
My brother's car was broken into this morning, sometime between 12:00 AM and 6:00 AM. The would be burglars smashed the window and appeared to rifle through the car. They also worked to remove the car stereo, albeit unsuccessfully. The bright side of this is the fact that the car, itself, was not stolen. It is in very good condition for it's age but if stolen, I worry that my brother would not receive much in terms of insurance proceeds, not to mention his need for reliable transportation to work. Once again, this incident causes me increased worry about his neighborhood. He reported that a neighbor had their car stolen, right in front of that neighbor's property. Blue graffitti is displayed on the tall wooden fence surrounding my brother's home. The police are contacted, the incident reported, and occasionally, the paint scrubbed off...well somewhat. Sooner or later, there will be fresh, blue graffiti and the process repeats itself. My brother has reported that he and his housemates are unable to order pizza or Chinese food for delivery. Local businesses have opted out of this option as to eliminate the potential for robbery or assault upon delivery staff. And, the coup de grace, was an incident my brother had purposefully neglected to mention until it was inadvertently mentioned by his friend, N. Apparently, a burglar broke into the house, grabbed the large blanket off of the sofa, and placed thousands of dollars of DVD's on the blanket, only to use said blanket to wrap up the contents, and head back out the window. My brother and his roommate were avid and serious collectors of expansive DVD collections. All gone now. More importantly, my brother was in the house at the time of the robbery. He was in his room! He cannot be safe and sound inside his own place of residence??? Okay, this robbery incident happened a year ago or so. The prostitutes who took up temporarily residence in front of his house (he lives on a corner) were also a concern, more of a burden. The misogynist pigs who solicited them were of concern as well. Oh wait, did I forget to mention this lovely door prize of living in his neighborhood? I worry about him. I worry that he comes home to a parking spot in the back of his house that is somewhat secluded and not particularly well lit. I worry that he cannot be safe in his own home. All of the locks on the doors mean nothing when the window can be broken and used as a point of entry. I wish he did not live there. I wish he could live somewhere that *might* be safer and with a bit less worry. I know he enjoys his roommates and the rent is reasonable. I am worried about his safety.
The day finished with a baby that seemed a bit more sensitive...a bit more clingy. Emma looked tired, with a purplish coloring to her eyelids, which means she is tired or sick or both. She spiked a fever which was quickly brought down by Ibuprofen. as the medication wore off, the fever made a return appearance. I asked Emma is her head hurt to which she replied, "no." She was sniffling a bit and laying her head on the couch pillow. She is now sleeping. I hope she awakes feeling much better. I am a bit anxious, as I always am when my babies are ill. I worry what is wrong with them and how poorly they feel. I feel so sad when my babies are sick and I want so much to help them get well. All of the H1N1 fury has caused me additional worry. She could not be vaccinated with the H1N1 vaccine mist until 28 says post the administration of the seasonal flu mist. I will pray that she will soon feel better. My sweet baby. I do feel bad that she will most likely miss tomorrow's class Halloween party as she was looking forward to wearing her costume to school.
Madeline lies near me as I sit on the couch, imac in lap. I will bring this long post to a close and take the opportunity to have some snuggle time with my cute Liney. I am fortunate to have such a good pup to love, except for her tendency to have offensive gastro-intestinal issues. Though, it is the quiet of the night when the longing intensifies for my sweet Malachy. I continue to work through his passing. He was my sweet, sweet boy. So gentle, So kind, So soothing. I close my eyes and picture myself rubbing him behind the ears and back. Well, those large, soft, warm tears are intensifying. I go to hug my Madeline,
I have been trying desperately to incorporate a *pick-u/clean-up* routine with the kids. My attempts have thus far been unsuccessful. Eamon resists and resists and often makes excuses as to why he is unable to pick up his toys at that particular moment in time. The more toys that carpet the floor, the more frustrated and overwhelmed he becomes. Well, frankly, his mother becomes frustrated and overwhelmed, too. We have such limited space in this house so toys, clothes, papers, bills, books etc, strewn about take up considerable real estate. I think this feeling of having so much clutter and *stuff* will be less of a factor if when ever move. However, we live here now and we need to make the most of the space we have. I see this as putting items away after use and keeping up with the clutter. I am the only one that appears to suffer from anxiety related to the mess, clutter, and lack of space. I want some order. I want cleanliness. I am tired of the chaos. It is driving me crazy!!!
I do not know what to do with Eamon. Yeterday, he told me I was a "bad mommy." Maybe I am, as I am so incredibly frustrated with him at this point. He is so oppositional, so deviant, so insolent at times. He will sometimes refuse to answer my questions. He will yell at me. He will hit me. He will tell benign lies, but lies, nonetheless. He will refuse my requests. At times, he will snuggle with me but usually as a means to an end. He thinks that if he is *nice* to me, then I will allow him extra Wii time. I wonder how I can be firm and strong with him but also loving and nurturing. I understand that he is exploring much that is new...new school, new friends, new schedule, new expectations, new responsibilities. I am trying to be patient and understanding. Instead I feel worn out at times and fixated on the clock. How long until bedtime? How many hours? How many minutes? When will he be asleep? When will I have a chance to decompress and evaluate. When will I have a chance to cry. Alone. I feel as if I am running on reserve fuel. I am getting a bit worn out. I need to figure out how to renew and strengthen myself.
My brother's car was broken into this morning, sometime between 12:00 AM and 6:00 AM. The would be burglars smashed the window and appeared to rifle through the car. They also worked to remove the car stereo, albeit unsuccessfully. The bright side of this is the fact that the car, itself, was not stolen. It is in very good condition for it's age but if stolen, I worry that my brother would not receive much in terms of insurance proceeds, not to mention his need for reliable transportation to work. Once again, this incident causes me increased worry about his neighborhood. He reported that a neighbor had their car stolen, right in front of that neighbor's property. Blue graffitti is displayed on the tall wooden fence surrounding my brother's home. The police are contacted, the incident reported, and occasionally, the paint scrubbed off...well somewhat. Sooner or later, there will be fresh, blue graffiti and the process repeats itself. My brother has reported that he and his housemates are unable to order pizza or Chinese food for delivery. Local businesses have opted out of this option as to eliminate the potential for robbery or assault upon delivery staff. And, the coup de grace, was an incident my brother had purposefully neglected to mention until it was inadvertently mentioned by his friend, N. Apparently, a burglar broke into the house, grabbed the large blanket off of the sofa, and placed thousands of dollars of DVD's on the blanket, only to use said blanket to wrap up the contents, and head back out the window. My brother and his roommate were avid and serious collectors of expansive DVD collections. All gone now. More importantly, my brother was in the house at the time of the robbery. He was in his room! He cannot be safe and sound inside his own place of residence??? Okay, this robbery incident happened a year ago or so. The prostitutes who took up temporarily residence in front of his house (he lives on a corner) were also a concern, more of a burden. The misogynist pigs who solicited them were of concern as well. Oh wait, did I forget to mention this lovely door prize of living in his neighborhood? I worry about him. I worry that he comes home to a parking spot in the back of his house that is somewhat secluded and not particularly well lit. I worry that he cannot be safe in his own home. All of the locks on the doors mean nothing when the window can be broken and used as a point of entry. I wish he did not live there. I wish he could live somewhere that *might* be safer and with a bit less worry. I know he enjoys his roommates and the rent is reasonable. I am worried about his safety.
The day finished with a baby that seemed a bit more sensitive...a bit more clingy. Emma looked tired, with a purplish coloring to her eyelids, which means she is tired or sick or both. She spiked a fever which was quickly brought down by Ibuprofen. as the medication wore off, the fever made a return appearance. I asked Emma is her head hurt to which she replied, "no." She was sniffling a bit and laying her head on the couch pillow. She is now sleeping. I hope she awakes feeling much better. I am a bit anxious, as I always am when my babies are ill. I worry what is wrong with them and how poorly they feel. I feel so sad when my babies are sick and I want so much to help them get well. All of the H1N1 fury has caused me additional worry. She could not be vaccinated with the H1N1 vaccine mist until 28 says post the administration of the seasonal flu mist. I will pray that she will soon feel better. My sweet baby. I do feel bad that she will most likely miss tomorrow's class Halloween party as she was looking forward to wearing her costume to school.
Madeline lies near me as I sit on the couch, imac in lap. I will bring this long post to a close and take the opportunity to have some snuggle time with my cute Liney. I am fortunate to have such a good pup to love, except for her tendency to have offensive gastro-intestinal issues. Though, it is the quiet of the night when the longing intensifies for my sweet Malachy. I continue to work through his passing. He was my sweet, sweet boy. So gentle, So kind, So soothing. I close my eyes and picture myself rubbing him behind the ears and back. Well, those large, soft, warm tears are intensifying. I go to hug my Madeline,
27 October 2009
In The Quiet of The Night
October is nearing it's end. In some respects, the month has gone by quite fast. Though, at times, it seems as if October might never end.
Today, I determined that I really needed to get outside, with the hope that the riding mower would not fail me. I *just* mowed and bagged a plethora of lawn bags, heavy and laden with compacted leaves. The lawn was again carpeted and so I began to get the tractor out and with the objective of filling (at least) ten to fifteen bags. The beautiful, sunny days are waning, desperately holding on for another breath. As I mowed, I waved to the neighbors, pleased that I was wearing my sandals, soon to be forced into hibernation. When I got to the the back forty, I began to lament Malachy's absence. I really enjoyed watching him run around the yard with abandon. He would watch me as I mowed and I would check at which point he was in his roaming of the yard. He bounded about, untethered, and free to run and explore with abandon. I would call him and he would wag his tail and smile, walking toward me as I made another loop. I realized today how much I enjoyed watching him play in the yard while I was mowing, gardening, or hanging out with the kiddos. Okay, maybe I was a bit distracted and thus, this in the reason why I mowed over the large tree trunk in the front yard after a loop in the back. (I think we need a new blade as the mower began to sputter, eventually making the most unpleasant grinding sound). Nevertheless, this mundane fall task again reminded me of the *readjusted normalcy.* I delighted in Mal's company while I worked outside. I delighted even more in watching him be so happy.
So, I finished mowing. Well, the mower *finished*before I had completed the leaf pick-up. I came inside and cleaned up so Eamon and Emma and I could go out for our walk. I noticed the mail had come so went to retrieve it before we went to the trail. I opened up the autopsy/necropsy report from the U of M. There were medical terms that I did not understand, of course. But, I understood *enough* to understand that the cancer had riddled his body. His heart appeared to be the primary source of the tumor. I knew that the cancer had metastasized, but reading the report hit this fact home. I was amazed that this uncontrolled force was almost everywhere within him. I was also amazed that he did so remarkably well, given the seriousness of his illness. I wonder if he felt sick, tired, uncomfortable, or sad as he was not a complainer. Dr. F said he probably did not realize he had cancer until the last day of his life. I sincerely hope she is right. I hold onto her words.
I have looked back at my October posts, realizing that they have not changed in tone from October's beginning to end. I feel like I am working through this grief but become self critical that I am not working through the loss of Malachy as I *should.* Am I mourning his loss for too long a period? Am I perseverating on his absence? Would my grief flow as it has if I were in school, employed, or depression-free? Maybe so. Or, maybe I am working at it as I should. In my own way, as I know how, with all things considered.
The irony is that Malachy brought me much relief from the sometimes all-encompassing despair of depression. He mitigated it's severity. He lessened the anxiety. I now grieve his companionship but also long for his ability to unknowingly comfort.
I find the nights to be the most difficult. The house is quiet and all have gone to bed. Madeline is asleep in the corner for the evening. The nights allowed me to give Malachy undivided attention. I still enjoy my sweet Madeline's snuggling with all of my heart. I am grateful to have my time with her and give her undivided love. Yet, the nights are quieter. Too quiet. Too unsettling.
I have confidence that I will again write posts about all of the joy and silliness the day brings. I know that my life is filled with blessings and good fortune. (KNOCK ON WOOD). I have not lost sight of the wonder. Though, for now, I contemplate the business of grieving.
Today, I determined that I really needed to get outside, with the hope that the riding mower would not fail me. I *just* mowed and bagged a plethora of lawn bags, heavy and laden with compacted leaves. The lawn was again carpeted and so I began to get the tractor out and with the objective of filling (at least) ten to fifteen bags. The beautiful, sunny days are waning, desperately holding on for another breath. As I mowed, I waved to the neighbors, pleased that I was wearing my sandals, soon to be forced into hibernation. When I got to the the back forty, I began to lament Malachy's absence. I really enjoyed watching him run around the yard with abandon. He would watch me as I mowed and I would check at which point he was in his roaming of the yard. He bounded about, untethered, and free to run and explore with abandon. I would call him and he would wag his tail and smile, walking toward me as I made another loop. I realized today how much I enjoyed watching him play in the yard while I was mowing, gardening, or hanging out with the kiddos. Okay, maybe I was a bit distracted and thus, this in the reason why I mowed over the large tree trunk in the front yard after a loop in the back. (I think we need a new blade as the mower began to sputter, eventually making the most unpleasant grinding sound). Nevertheless, this mundane fall task again reminded me of the *readjusted normalcy.* I delighted in Mal's company while I worked outside. I delighted even more in watching him be so happy.
So, I finished mowing. Well, the mower *finished*before I had completed the leaf pick-up. I came inside and cleaned up so Eamon and Emma and I could go out for our walk. I noticed the mail had come so went to retrieve it before we went to the trail. I opened up the autopsy/necropsy report from the U of M. There were medical terms that I did not understand, of course. But, I understood *enough* to understand that the cancer had riddled his body. His heart appeared to be the primary source of the tumor. I knew that the cancer had metastasized, but reading the report hit this fact home. I was amazed that this uncontrolled force was almost everywhere within him. I was also amazed that he did so remarkably well, given the seriousness of his illness. I wonder if he felt sick, tired, uncomfortable, or sad as he was not a complainer. Dr. F said he probably did not realize he had cancer until the last day of his life. I sincerely hope she is right. I hold onto her words.
I have looked back at my October posts, realizing that they have not changed in tone from October's beginning to end. I feel like I am working through this grief but become self critical that I am not working through the loss of Malachy as I *should.* Am I mourning his loss for too long a period? Am I perseverating on his absence? Would my grief flow as it has if I were in school, employed, or depression-free? Maybe so. Or, maybe I am working at it as I should. In my own way, as I know how, with all things considered.
The irony is that Malachy brought me much relief from the sometimes all-encompassing despair of depression. He mitigated it's severity. He lessened the anxiety. I now grieve his companionship but also long for his ability to unknowingly comfort.
I find the nights to be the most difficult. The house is quiet and all have gone to bed. Madeline is asleep in the corner for the evening. The nights allowed me to give Malachy undivided attention. I still enjoy my sweet Madeline's snuggling with all of my heart. I am grateful to have my time with her and give her undivided love. Yet, the nights are quieter. Too quiet. Too unsettling.
I have confidence that I will again write posts about all of the joy and silliness the day brings. I know that my life is filled with blessings and good fortune. (KNOCK ON WOOD). I have not lost sight of the wonder. Though, for now, I contemplate the business of grieving.
25 October 2009
The Autumn
The Autumn by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Go, sit upon the lofty hill,
And turn your eyes around,
Where waving woods and waters wild
Do hymn an autumn sound.
The summer sun is faint on them --
The summer flowers depart --
Sit still -- as all transform'd to stone,
Except your musing heart.
How there you sat in summer-time,
May yet be in your mind;
And how you heard the green woods sing
Beneath the freshening wind.
Though the same wind now blows around,
You would its blast recall;
For every breath that stirs the trees,
Doth cause a leaf to fall.
Oh! like that wind, is all the mirth
That flesh and dust impart:
We cannot bear its visitings,
When change is on the heart.
Gay words and jests may make us smile,
When Sorrow is asleep;
But other things must make us smile,
When Sorrow bids us weep!
The dearest hands that clasp our hands, --
Their presence may be o'er;
The dearest voice that meets our ear,
That tone may come no more!
Youth fades; and then, the joys of youth,
Which once refresh'd our mind,
Shall come -- as, on those sighing woods,
The chilling autumn wind.
Hear not the wind -- view not the woods;
Look out o'er vale and hill-
In spring, the sky encircled them --
The sky is round them still.
Come autumn's scathe -- come winter's cold --
Come change -- and human fate!
Whatever prospect Heaven doth bound,
Can ne'er be desolate.
Go, sit upon the lofty hill,
And turn your eyes around,
Where waving woods and waters wild
Do hymn an autumn sound.
The summer sun is faint on them --
The summer flowers depart --
Sit still -- as all transform'd to stone,
Except your musing heart.
How there you sat in summer-time,
May yet be in your mind;
And how you heard the green woods sing
Beneath the freshening wind.
Though the same wind now blows around,
You would its blast recall;
For every breath that stirs the trees,
Doth cause a leaf to fall.
Oh! like that wind, is all the mirth
That flesh and dust impart:
We cannot bear its visitings,
When change is on the heart.
Gay words and jests may make us smile,
When Sorrow is asleep;
But other things must make us smile,
When Sorrow bids us weep!
The dearest hands that clasp our hands, --
Their presence may be o'er;
The dearest voice that meets our ear,
That tone may come no more!
Youth fades; and then, the joys of youth,
Which once refresh'd our mind,
Shall come -- as, on those sighing woods,
The chilling autumn wind.
Hear not the wind -- view not the woods;
Look out o'er vale and hill-
In spring, the sky encircled them --
The sky is round them still.
Come autumn's scathe -- come winter's cold --
Come change -- and human fate!
Whatever prospect Heaven doth bound,
Can ne'er be desolate.
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