Random Thoughts & Being LOST

2010 is less than one week away. I sit in my warm and cozy front room, in front of my big screen TV (62 inch..no not a plasma), typing away on my laptop. I look outside and the snow is falling in large, heavy flakes. At least six inches adorn the railings on my deck and drive and that is even after we have cleaned things off.

I look towards my garage, but alas, still no flying car. I had thought by 2009/2010 I’d get my flying car. Of course, every year that passes is one year closer to its existence, but I may have to use it to go to and from the nursing home at this rate. All these things, while important cannot replace the one thing that truly inspires me. LOST and GILLIGAN’S Island.

My life is more like an episode of LOST, trying to break out of an existence that at times feels like it is ticking by and needs me to reset it every so many hours to make sure I don’t blow up! And sometimes, my life is like Gilligan’s Island, still LOST but at least sometimes it’s funny!

LOST and Gilligan’s Island have provided many life lessons for me. Here are a few of the things I’ve learned:

1. Always remember, life is either like Gilligan’s Island or LOST:Always make sure you have one guy as brave and smart as the Professor, or as willing to take charge as John (and he’s good with knives which comes in handy from time to time).

2. Comic Relief is absolutely necessary to survival: Make sure you hang with Gilligan or Hugo when in the need for a laugh to help you escape the seriousness of the situation in which you find yourself.

3. Always carry MAKEUP with you wherever you go. It will come in handy for Seducing guards from a hostile group of marauders or if you need to put on a stage show to break the monotony of being a castaway.

4. Always carry extra sweet stuff and make sure you acquire a taste for Coconut. Sugar is in short supply when stuck on an island and Coconut is gonna have to suffice for that piece of FUDGE you may long for at Christmas Time.

5. Learn how to make a radio out of broken pieces of equipment. If I had a nickel for every time I saw old radios from planes or batteries lying around on a beach, we’d be able to rent a water taxi and get off the island.

6. Learn to Swim and Snorkel. I don’t excel at either and need to bone up on them both. Everyone knows that the only way to survive is to enjoy that surf and not to succumb to just lying on the beach and getting skin cancer.

7. Always carry LOTS of Bug Spray. While I’ve seen few people on either island swatting at sand fleas or mosquitoes I’ve seen SURVIVOR enough to know that there are some NASTY bugs out there and bug spray will make your unwanted stay on a remote island much more pleasant…

8. Plans for building boats/housing from Palm Fronds and cane and how to turn Regular Sand into Cement. I’m jussayin!

9. Carry Toilet Paper! Good LORD how many Palm leaves must one have to suffer through? Course, this said, one hopes that there is an actual toilet….uh or someone to dig a latrine. A good burned out tree with a hole in the middle of tree rings can suffice as a toilet substitute, but someone HAS to dig the hole for the stuff to sink into.

10. Carry Salt and Pepper…I’m sorry but fish gets real old if one does not carry Salt and Pepper or at least find lemons on the island so one can have SOME sort of flavorings….

12. Don’t be annoying. If you are alone on the island, well, then forget this one, but if at least one other person exists try to behave yourself and not become like Gilligan, cause being alone may be a better option for them than putting up with someone like Gilligan!

I know there are so many more points to make on this, however, dwelling on being on a deserted island is becoming its own kind of hell. So I’ll leave you to come up with your own list of things you’d need!

Jennie Pearl-Peoria’s Lost Sweetheart

sweetnote:

A VERY EARLY Blogpost. I have since moved from being the next door neighbor of the amazing Jenny Pearl, but, the memory of the encounters with her live in my memory.

Originally posted on Sweetnote's From the Midwest:

Part I Finding Jennie Pearl

I live next door to a legend. That may seem to be an overstatement, but it’s true. There once was a young girl named Jennie Pearl who, when she was the tender age of fourteen or fifteen back in the late sixties, developed a love of music and playing piano and guitar. This sweet innocent child became friends with a few people of like minds and together they created the Peoria Folk Anthology Group.

This story all came about by accident, which is the usual way great stories start. One day our electricity was out and I went next door to the Hayes residence to ask if their electricity was out as well wondering if was a neighborhood problem or a personal house problem. Jennie answered the door and in the background I could hear the sounds of a man singing loudly. It wasn’t the…

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On Behalf of the Dying

sweetnote:

The story of a Real Man, a good man, a man I never got to personally meet, but knew in my heart.

Originally posted on Sweetnote's From the Midwest:

My friend is dying. A friend I’ve never met in life except through phone calls and a few videos we send back and forth. Oil_Can_Harry is his name on SingSnap…a site devoted to people who love to sing…but his real name is Jack. I just realized I don’t even know his last name. Sad really. But my dear friend called me yesterday when I was away. The message on the answering machine was, “Well Hon, I got some bad news from the Dr. today, I wanted to talk to you about it.” I called him back immediately. A few weeks ago I had called him and we had discussed his serious heart problem. So serious, in fact, that his Dr. began providing Hospice services for him. Jack has one daughter who lives several hundred miles north of him. There is no wife, no close friends that he’s ever told me…

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The Final Chapter for Jack

sweetnote:

Paying tribute to a man I adored. Jack Turnipseed. Love ya still Jack ;)

Originally posted on Sweetnote's From the Midwest:

I went to California a few weeks ago. Prior to my leaving I called my dear friend Jack Turnipseed and told him I would be going. Jack was upbeat and ornery as always and we traded a few giggles about his lack of sex and his wanton desire for it. I verbally hugged him over the phone and told him I would call when I got back from California. He responded that I had better call him when I got home. I laughed.

The California trip was arduous at best. I became ill during the trip due to the massive amount of smoke from the LaCanada-Flintridge Fires that were only a few miles away from my two daughters digs in downtown Los Angeles. The week was spent with me on a couch, with a covering over my face and massive quantities of Inhalers being used. I loved seeing the daughters…

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Dear TWITTER: I QUIT

Dear Twitter: I QUIT! Yeah, I’ve had it…fed up with it, want nothing more to do with it……uh….no….that isn’t what happened at all.

About 3 months ago I became ill. No it wasn’t H1N1, it was all bronchial, and sinus and misery. I began being ill before going to Los Angeles to visit my two daughters and had been on medications to combat it, however, when I went to LA I arrived the very day the fires at La Canada-Flintridge broke out. These amazing fires were across the hill from where I was safely tucked in the condo with my kids and hubby. However, the smoke from the fires seemed to say…hey, isn’t that Sweetnote over there in that Condo? Let’s go and say HELLO and then it stayed for the duration of our trip!

I have had bouts of asthma in my past and had not had any episodes for some time, but the smoke and ash sent my body into overdrive. I was on the couch, with blankets covering my head, washcloth over my face to breath through and generally suffocating. Misery, I now know you for what you are! NASTY and EVIL!

I hate to admit that I was ready to come home and leave LA, because everyone knows that I have claimed that territory as my own personal favorite place in the world. I absolutely adore the vibe LA has. It’s an electricity and feeling of life that is difficult to put into words.

ANYWAY…came home, and felt better in a couple of days because the smoke finally made it’s way OUT of my burning lungs and esophagus. Upon my return home, I began work in earnest on a garage sale. One I had promised my husband I would have to divest ourselves of much unneeded GUNK and JUNK. The weather while I was working on it was quite lovely for early September, and while it was work, it was fun. Then, the day of the sale came, and so did the COLD and the RAIN. Not just a little rain, a LOT of rain. Because of my weakness from the asthma, I immediately went back into a full blown bronchial attack that stayed with me throughout the 2 weeks of the garage sale…and then decided it would stay for over 2 months!

What does all this have to do with Twitter? Well, if you can’t tell from the above, I was too ill to get up and sit mindlessly tweeting to my friends. I went quiet on Twitter. I started to get lovely notes from people wondering if I was dead…what few tweets I was making were, hello I’m still sick and still alive. Not fun to read for anyone!

So About 2 weeks ago, after my lengthy drought from Tweeting, I said to myself. This is ridiculous. Why am I keeping a Twitter account if I’m not there, and with one fell click of the ENTER key, deleted my account. I was thinking, no one would even notice I wasn’t there!

Then, it began: My daughter Julie called me out of the clear blue sky and says, “Mom, you need to get on Twitter and let people know you are ok, I’m getting emails from people wondering where you are.” This was significant as my daughter Julie does NOT tweet, does not have an account and refuses to read anything I tweet because it just ticks her off. SO I say to Julie, well, I deleted my account. Her response? OK, good.

Then a few days later, my daughter, @teelajbrown on Twitter, calls me and says, “Mother (she calls me Mother when she’s upset with me), Why did you delete your account?” I explained what I just revealed to you but she was not nearly as forgiving as you who may be reading this, hopefully will be. “You know you didn’t need to delete your account, you could have just explained to people what was going on.” So my thought? “GOOD POINT” followed by DOH! What Have I Done? So I reinstated my account!

I’ve made quite a reputation for myself on Twitter, both good and bad. I’ve have so many acquaintances and a handful of people who are truly my friends. I’m looking back now at all this and thinking to myself, yeah, that was dumb. But there is a certain amount of depression that goes with extended illness and when you can’t have control over your body and make it get better, one feels the need for control over something! Good;bad;or indifferent, I had chosen to take control by deleting not only my Twitter account, but HIDING most of my songs on www.singsnap.com. I hadn’t been able to sing either due to the bad chest/throat thingy. (technical term)

So what is the point of this rambling? This is my formal apology to those Twit Fans and Friends for abandoning something I loved and (in fact) abandoning many of you at the same time. I am very sorry for worrying many of you and for not keeping in touch. It won’t happen again until I’m too old to Tweet! Seeing as how Liz Taylor still tweets, that may be a LONG TIME from now! I’m Jussayin!

And to you who do not know me as @Sweetnote on Twitter, it’s nice to meet you. Do stop in and say hello. Hopefully we’ll become good friends, Twitmates even!

And as Sweetnote always says:Smooches

Sweetnote has LEFT the Tweetbox!

The Final Chapter for Jack

I went to California a few weeks ago. Prior to my leaving I called my dear friend Jack Turnipseed and told him I would be going. Jack was upbeat and ornery as always and we traded a few giggles about his lack of sex and his wanton desire for it. I verbally hugged him over the phone and told him I would call when I got back from California. He responded that I had better call him when I got home. I laughed.

The California trip was arduous at best. I became ill during the trip due to the massive amount of smoke from the LaCanada-Flintridge Fires that were only a few miles away from my two daughters digs in downtown Los Angeles. The week was spent with me on a couch, with a covering over my face and massive quantities of Inhalers being used. I loved seeing the daughters and the bathroom renovation, which was the purpose for us being there, was beautifully completed.

I was ready to go home by the time came for the return trip. Worn out from the troubled breathing and the frustration of not being able to go out like I do ordinarily, a 6 hour plane ride seemed like paradise to me.

I got home and then a bronchial infection took over and I was down sick for the rest of the week again. On the Sunday after I returned home I received a note from someone named Sandi. The name didn’t ring a bell immediately for me and I almost tossed the email into the trash, but as I actually started to do it, something overcame me that I can’t explain and I knew I had to open it. Sure enough, it was a note telling me that my dear friend Jack Turnipseed had passed away. I sat back in my chair and I cried. I realized that in all the worrying about myself, I had forgotten my promise to my friend to call him immediately when I got home. I felt I had let him down.

If you haven’t read my other article, “On Behalf Of The Dying” it’s the story of how Jack I became friends and how, after he’d told me that he was to select which day to die (by the removal of a pacemaker) that I had continuously told him, don’t pick today Jack, I want to talk to you tomorrow.

My tomorrows ran out. I’d never met Jack. I had only spoken to him via the internet and phone calls. In fact, he was the only person my husband allowed outside the family on my Friends & Family plan for my phone. I can’t begin to tell you the depth of my sorrow…and truly I don’t even fully yet understand my link to this man I hardly knew.

I sent a note to Sandi telling her I would Love to come to the Funeral, to which she wrote back and said, it was taking place that very day in Missouri. Again, I felt my betrayal of my friend. The next day, however, Sandi wrote to tell me that it had been decided that a memorial for Jack would take place near St. Louis and I was definitely invited to come. I had promised Jack I would come to his funeral, I had let him down. I was determined to make the Visitation for him.

Begrudgingly my husband agreed to let me drive down to St. Louis alone for the visitation. I had been sick for two solid weeks with the upper respiratory thing that had gripped me in LA, but I was determined to go to see my Jack for the first time, and the last time.

It rained that day as I drove down, off and on, matching my own tears. I talked to Jack in the car all the way down. The town I was headed for was new to me, Trenton, Illinois. I’d never been there, didn’t have a clue how to get there, so I had printed off a map from the internet. It was a two and half almost 3 hour trip to Trenton from my home. Jack and I laughed together in my mind. We talked about the ornery things we’d talked about on the phone and I reminded him of the night that he called, high on pain medication and swearing that women were raping him. I laughed and told him I hoped it had been true for his sake.

I got near Trenton and actually became lost. I stopped the car and said, look Jack, if you want me to be there on time you better start telling me how to get to you. I swear, suddenly, it was as if I’d traveled the road before. I drove to the town, turned on the right streets and drove to the Funeral home and arrived just as people were arriving for the memorial. I laughed and said, it was a good thing he had a good sense of direction in the afterlife.

I went inside the quaint funeral home and drifted toward the direction of the murmur of voices and a few sounds of laughter. Entering the room I saw the chairs to the right of me, and three boards full of photographs at the front of the room. No Jack, however, he’d been cremated in Missouri, but his ashes were going to be interred with his son’s body at the local cemetery.

I stepped up to the photos of a man whom I had known through videos on http://www.singsnap.com. When we first met Jack was a VIBRANT handsome bald man who adored singing and flirting and performing. The photos of his life showed that as well, and there were photos of him with a head full of hair and a wife and children. Not the man I knew at all. But a man who I wished I’d known. Suddenly someone said, “Sweetnote?” and I drew around suddenly to see the face of a woman I’d never met. “Yes, I am,” I replied. “Oh I KNEW it was you from watching your videos on Singsnap! I was so hoping you’d be able to come. Singing was SO important to Jack.”

“I am so very sorry for your loss,” the words we utter. The hollow, hollow words from the well meaning people. I am determined to come up with a better thing to say at the next funeral of a friend.

I was taken from person to person and introduced as though I was the dearest friend Jack had. I grew more embarrassed as I realized that I should know some of the people from Jack’s descriptions, but my sorrow had caught up with me in the reality of the moment, and faces floated by, and handshakes were made. I took a seat and a minister got up to give a prayer. After the prayer he announced how he and Jack were and had been the dearest of friends for many year and what a religious man Jack was. I giggled to myself, because in all the talks I’d had with Jack he’d never once mentioned he was religious. On the contrary, he was quite the rogue and we joked to each other that if either of us went first, we should try to get a place in hell near the water cooler and make sure the apartment had air conditioning. That was the Jack Turnipseed I knew.

Then the minister went on to tell about how Jack had been a School Teacher, A Printer, ran a Karaoke business, was a wonderful Father, a kind husband, and what a positive influence he had been on so many lives. I smiled again, THIS WAS the Jack I knew. He’d been a positive influence on my life and he will continue to be until the day I die. Singlehandedly Jack had given me back a piece of me that I had lost for awhile. True love and compassion for a stranger. It may have been his greatest gift in his lifetime.

The day before Jack died, he sang a song on Singsnap…when I saw it I cried to see how he had deteriorated, but then I laughed with joy listening to the song. The song? “Going Up To The Spirit In The Sky.” I never did find out if Jack picked his day to die or if God did. I like to think it was the both of them. I’m going to miss you Jack Turnipseed, aka Oil_Can_Harry. My Friend

Jack Turnipseed
Jack Turnipseed

Julie & Kate

My Youngest daughter, Julie, has had a thing for Katharine Hepburn since she was about 8yrs old. Julie even had a “Shrine” of photos of Katharine in her room. (Other kids had New Kids On the Block!) She had Kate’s lines from many movies memorized and had her laugh down to a science! She emulated Katharine and still does to this day! When she was about 10 I was cleaning her room and came across a paper in her trash.A letter to Kate. “Hi, I’m Julie how are you” sort of thing.I asked her why she didn’t send it to her & she said She wouldn’t answer me anyway. So I smoothed out the LONG letter,got some pics of Julie and wrote a note to Ms.Hepburn telling her about Julies love for her&what Julie had said.Sent it to her at home on the E.Coast. 6weeks later got back an envelope that said it was from Kate:I was SO excited! I ran to Julie. Julie was Furious I’d sent her letter on but excited that she’d gotten the letter. Julie opened it and saw it was on Kate’s personal stationary. Julie read it, cast it aside. I asked why she had done it and she replied, “She couldn’t even write me herself, had to have someone else write it for her.” Thought it was SO funny that she was so naive as to have thought that Kate would actually write her. I took pen in hand again and wrote a quick note to the secretary telling her Julie’s reaction. Just about a WEEK later we received another envelope. This one contained Kate’s Letterhead and a brief typed note:”Dear Julie, I have truly enjoyed your sweet letters, however, I am not in need of a penpal at this time.” Hand signed by Kate herself! Julie has gone on to be in the movie industry herself. This letter is her pride and joy…and Mine!

On Behalf of the Dying

My friend is dying. A friend I’ve never met in life except through phone calls and a few videos we send back and forth. Oil_Can_Harry is his name on SingSnap…a site devoted to people who love to sing…but his real name is Jack. I just realized I don’t even know his last name. Sad really. But my dear friend called me yesterday when I was away. The message on the answering machine was, “Well Hon, I got some bad news from the Dr. today, I wanted to talk to you about it.” I called him back immediately. A few weeks ago I had called him and we had discussed his serious heart problem. So serious, in fact, that his Dr. began providing Hospice services for him. Jack has one daughter who lives several hundred miles north of him. There is no wife, no close friends that he’s ever told me about, just the friends that he’s made at http://www.singsnap.com.

Jack is the only guy I’ve ever allowed to be a bit ornery when talking to me. His old piss and vinegar attitude and gravely voice are all I knew about him. You can immediately tell the heart of gold this guy has, so when I called him back, I was irreverent, he wouldn’t have it any other way. “Hey darlin, what in the hell are you doing?” (we call each other darlin alot) Jack:Well, I was just about to lie down.. “So what’s going on, you sounded pretty serious on the message?” Jack:”Well darlin, I’m trying to decide which day I die.”

I sat back in the chair not really fully understanding what he meant at that time, thinking he was being maudlin and just poking a bit at me to get a reaction. “Why’s that Jack? What’d the Dr. say that makes you say that.” Jack:”Well, they’re gonna pull the plug on me and I have to decide which day I wanna do it.”

Suddenly I was thrust in my mind to a scene at a hospital with my father-in-law who was on the verge of death. My husband and his brother had to make a decision on when to pull the plug to allow their father to die. Then I was immediately pulled forward to two years ago when, by a decision of my side of the family, we allowed my father to die. My father’s death haunts me to this day. It wasn’t the quiet peaceful death I’d seen on television:I was expecting that, instead I saw a man reduced to a gray pulp, mouth gaping, struggling for his last breaths of air. A scene I relive over and over again in my mind to this day.

My thoughts came back immediately to Jack. “Jack, has something changed, are you worse? Why are you even contemplating this?” Jack:”Well, I’m tired darlin, my hearts completely give out, my kidneys are shutting down, and I don’t want to go through dialysis. I’ve decided to let them pull the plug. It’s not like it’s going to be today and probably not even tomorrow. The doctor says I should just pick a day and he’ll make all the arrangements and come on over to the house and we’ll do it.”

There was sadness in his voice, God why wouldn’t there be, but there was something else. A quiet peace. It was as if he had really thought about the decision, found an answer that he could comply with and was ready to carry on.

There’s more to the story, but it consists mostly of me crying, him saying one of his favorite days was meeting me, but that’s the personal stuff.

My husband called on another line while I was speaking to Jack, so I let him go with a promise to call him again. My husband ascertained quickly that I was upset and asked what was wrong, so I told him. Hubster:”Haven’t I told you not to get too close to people. You just get too upset. You don’t even really know him.”

I’ve always been blessed with making friends. I think perhaps I may use the word “FRIEND”
too easily sometimes. I hold people in my heart over the smallest of things. People have been my greatest joy and sometimes my greatest sorrow. I would rather have a very good friend for one day than never have had the encounter with them at all.

I thought many hours about how someone, when given the news that their life is truly nearing an end, internalizes that information. I know there are several processes in grieving. Are these the same emotions one would go through if given the time-line of their own demise? First there would be the shock of the news, then the fear, the anger, the bargaining for more life, the resolution of the truth and finally the death itself. The reflection goes on from day one of the process. Have I lived my life in a manner that I wanted? Why didn’t I go after that opportunity?

Then I came to a realization, one I’ve known all along really. We are all finite, we do not know our last hour in most cases, however we all live with the knowledge that we are going to die. I’m sitting at a kitchen table writing this, but anything could happen. It could be an embolism, a freak accident, who knows? The point is while sitting here, I realize that this moment could be my last, and if it is have I lived the last few hours in a way that people will say, “That Londie, she was Fun, she was imaginative, she was a go getter, she always encouraged others, and she had a good heart.”

About Jack…when I started this article back in February, I thought Jack wouldn’t be here much longer. I made it a point to call him weekly and say, “Hey Jack, not today. Don’t choose to go today please. I want to talk to you one more time.” I’m very proud and happy to say Jack is still here. He’s no worse, and he’s much happier, but in our last conversation the other day he said this to me. “Londie, I know you want me to keep going, but darlin, one of these days it’ll happen and I want you to be prepared for it.” I couldn’t believe what he said…he wanted ME to be prepared for it. What an honor to be thought of so highly by someone I don’t really even know well. Thanks for the Life Lesson, you’ve made me such a better person because of knowing you…Oh and Jack…Not today…I wanna talk to you One More Time!

Oh God, People Actually Read THIS?

No pressure here…but I have had NUMEROUS lovely messages from People on Twitter and actually across the Internet saying…Hi Londie…I read your blog! I was like, Are You KIDDING? Wow…people actually care what I might have to say…to Paraphrase from one of my favorite all time movies “The Princess Bride”….INCONCEIVABLE…and yes I know what that means!

When I started this blog I had such LOFTY plans for it. But got caught up in Twitter…yes…I’m Sweetnote there…and so my days have been filled with Tweeting my lil fingers off. I am embarrassed to say that I am a prolific tweeter:I never got into Chat Room stuff…but find the 140 character thingy SO intriguing that I feel compelled to go there daily, read info, share info, make up info and generally have a great time! Do I ever Love Twitter!

I’ve had the distinct honor to meet people I would never have ordinarily been able to interact with. Many of these are people of whom I’ve read about. I’m not talking about the @ShaquilleONeal or THE @StephenFry (whom I adore by the way), I’m talking about @ChrisBrogan, Stranahan (of Huffington Post Infamy), @TheDailyBlonde..who’s blog is inspiring and funny…to name a few off the top of my head. I’m talking internationally to people that I would never have had the opportunity in “Real Life” to associate with. People like the incredibly talented Robert Llewellyn, @bobbyllew of LlewTube but better known as Kryten from Red Dwarf. I’d actually met Mr. Llewellyn several years ago at a Dr.Who, Red Dwarf, Blakes 7 convention. Or was it the Dr.Who, Robin Hood, Red Dwarf…etc…convention? Who knows. GEEK? Oh yeah…look it up…my photo with my tongue hanging out and salivating is used to define it!

And then the AMAZING happens and I have been approached for everything from Sex to Co-Authoring Books, working on Blogs, starting a Podcast, Vidcast and so many other amazing opportunities that only a couple of years ago, did not realize existed! I am ghostwriting-co authoring two separate projects right now. Life is good.

Am I making money doing it? Nah…but I have promises in writing for some. God forgive me for being me, but he knows I solely involved in everything I do for the fun of doing it! I like money like everyone else, but do I make decisions for myself based solely on the $$…Heck No! I’m in it for the experience, the opportunity to do things I’d never pushed myself to do or become. Isn’t that what we are truly made for?

Advice? Yeah I give it freely…and for free…everything from how to get along with husbands, what gifts to buy for special occasions and what route to take to get from here to there. My life is a true blessing. Updating is now a necessity. People actually READ what I write…I shall become more vigilant to update more frequently. I promise! Besides, it’s so refreshing to have more than 140 characters to say what I want! Look for me on Twitter at http://www.twitter.com/Sweetnote…I’m usually wearing a Cowgirl hat! HUGS and SMOOCHES….I wouldn’t have it any other way!

Not Forgotten

I walked through tall amber and green grasses to find you

You lying peacefully beneath the brown earth and blue sky

Awaiting someone who has not come for so long

Because the pain of being without you was too much to bear

Pausing to remove a weed or two from where your feet lie

Rearranging the faded blooms of silk left by another

Patting the marble as though it was your hand

I stand transfixed in memory, savoring the moment

Knowing full well I may not venture here again

I turn to go but feel the pull of your no longer beating heart

Telling me that it’s ok to live my life without you

Assuring me that life for me will return to what it was

But the memory of that moment of your passing haunts me

And I can’t let go that memory even though I try

Forgive me for not visiting more but I don’t think of you here

I think of us alongside a riverbank, basking in the moment

Enjoying the sun, smelling the water and the grass

As we sit together awaiting nothing but having everything

I’m leaving you now

But I’m taking you with me everywhere I go

Our journeys will take us to many places but none so sweet

As when I sit alone on the riverbank knowing you are there

Watching and providing the warmth that I feel