Letting go my desire for survival
by Elouise
I’m missing the routines
that keep me steady
and grounded.
Living moment to moment—
So happy to be with her again,
my daughter.
A little off-balance in my daily life—
Grateful for a quiet mid-day
so I can write, eat, be with myself and rest.
The rain has stopped and the sky is brighter.
Still feeling the edge of cold damp air
on my hands, legs and torso—
Wore my wool undershirt today
and flannel-lined jeans.
I want to mother her—
The thought of end-of-life stuff
gives extra meaning and urgency to our visits.
Have I been faithful to her?
Always such a distance to travel
for such a small bit of time.
Is it time to practice letting go—for good?
Whatever that means—
I’m not sure.
I’ve never done this before.
Neither has she—
So many unknowns.
It’s hard to see through tears.
Just being alone for a few hours in this house
feels sad—too empty,
too quiet.
What will it be when she isn’t here—
Or when I’m not here?….
***
I wrote this journal entry during a recent week-long visit with our daughter and her husband. Our first visit with them since I learned I have Chronic Kidney Disease. Surprisingly, the words sing to me–sweetly and sadly. No rushed or distressed cadence. Just the leading edge of a reality unknown to me as a mother.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 25 May 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Survive
Hi, Elouise, So sorry to hear of your condition. Your poem was very meaningful to me. It was just what I needed. Having blood clots in my lungs and unable to think clearly or spell or my headache to stop which I have had for three weeks or more; has made me feel like your poem was written to me. One thing I am told is that I am entering a new phase of my life where my abilities are in sinc with my mind. I feel like crying especially when I am here alone. Is this really the new me? I nearly died April 28th and back then I did not care if I did or not. I have a team going to Anajali without me in June. Nothing in me wants to go. It has been my passion for 10 years. I ask myself, what is happening to me? I am only 75 in August. Surely this should not be happening to me at this age. I think of my daughter who joined the atheists a couple of years ago and discounts anything I say about God. Will I die before she comes back to the Lord? How will my family survive when I am gone. I am supposed to be the caregiver for both my daughter Grace and my husband. If this is the new me, I don’t like it. If this is God’s will I need to accept it. But it doesn’t mean I am not sad or can stop crying, because I don’t really know what the path is ahead. I wonder how the rest of our class is coping with this stage of our lives. I am so tired just writing this. I will keep you in my prayers. And may we Praise Him even as we move into this phase of our journey.
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My dear Anne,
I relate to every bit of your comment (except for the clots in your lungs and the raging headache). Your question about the rest of our college class makes me realize how wonderful it’s been to be in touch with you following our 50th reunion. I’ll keep you, as always, in my prayers. I must say I’m happy that you’re not going to Anajali this June. It sounds like time to let your team pull the load. Tears are a gift. Accept them. Every drop. They’re a sign of how much you love life. I’m happy today’s post spoke to your situation, and sad with you about the unexpected challenges that seem to have landed on our doorsteps unannounced.
Love and hugs,
Elouise
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“It’s hard to see through tears.” The truth of your heart touches mine. Thank you for this.
Living with death in the house or your mind is so hard. I grew up in the shadow of a dead sister who was always present but rarely mentioned. I believe you captured my parents silent moments when they didn’t realize I was watching.
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What a difficult way to grow up, especially since your sister was rarely mentioned. The insight into your parents behavior sounds right on target. It’s hard to see through tears. Thank you for this kind comment, David.
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A lovely poem. Elouise, thank you. You express our feelings so exactly, that it is challenging just to say, ‘nice’ or ‘well done.’ Your courage and faith are much more than that, xxxx
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You’re welcome, Fran. There’s something so very freeing about being at this age, able to look back and ahead into the fog a bit and let writing lead the way. I never expected it. it. XXXX back to you!
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This poem really touched my heart, reflecting on my relationship with my teenage daughter, even though our circumstances are so different. Thank you, Elouise, for expressing yourself so openly and beautifully. <3<3
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You’re welcome, Kathy. I think mother-daughter relationships are fraught with joy and sorrow. In the end, I’m counting on joy winning, though sorrow makes deep marks along the way. Thanks for your comment. 🙂
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Hugs and kisses, and love and prayers to Elouise. ❤
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Thanks, Susan. Much appreciated!
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Thought by the title you were about to join me Elouise!
Always room for one more on my ship of state 👿 😈 🐻
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Well…we never know ’til we get there, right? And even then it’s not always clear where we are…:)
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what an honestly touching heartfelt post E. Questions you ask that make us ponder and know at some point, we will all experience the same questions. I suppose to just embrace the good moments, let go the bad and just BE where you need to be, laugh, cry, just Be ❤ thinking of you and Lucy lou too ❤ hows she ticking these days….thinking of you and sending love and prayers through the universe to reach you my friend, every day and always. ❤ peace and ❤ K
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Thank you, dear Kim. The same to you–love, prayers and peace. Today was a most welcome quiet day of rest. Lucy needed it, and so did I. I hope you had some good down time with yourself and your hubby. And all animals great and small! 🙂
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Had a nice BBQ poolside with a wonderful couple we met down here (my watercolor teacher and her hubs) a good time and relaxing, a plus of course💕😊🙏🏻
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