Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Tag: Aging

September 13, 2018

Unraveling

her life at loose ends
she scans the near horizon
searching for a thread
beyond sight and out of mind
stolen while she slept

While out walking this morning I saw my friend Rita and her lively little dog. I recalled the first time I ever had tea at Rita’s. She’d asked a childhood friend to join us. Both are in their 80s. They grew up together in Philadelphia and remained good friends over the years.

Within a few minutes I knew this bright, interesting woman had problems with short-term memory. Over and over I answered the same questions. She was fully aware of my presence, and genuinely interested in my responses–which she heard many times over.

Does she have Alzheimer’s Disease? I don’t know. I do know she’s now confined to her living quarters and has someone helping her out. I’ve also learned in the last month that another friend’s sister and mother died of Alzheimer’s Disease.

The poem could be about any of us, whether we carry Alzheimer genes or not. Nonetheless, I have to admit it’s on my mind more often than I’d like, and I scan every news article I see about the latest AD research.

Perhaps one day all these loose ends will be woven into the beautiful patchwork quilt of hope we’ve been looking for all these years.

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 13 September 2018
Image found at movestrongkbs.com

6 Comments
September 12, 2018

My Last Baby

It came to me a few days ago. Marie is my very last baby! And what’s so awesome about that?

I’m Marie! For those who don’t live in an imaginative mode, this may seem a bit silly. Even nonsense.

To me, however, it makes perfect sense. There’s a baby in me who’s been waiting for this chance to grow all her life. That means ever since she turned 10 months old in September 1944.

That’s when my father came home after 18 months in a TB sanatorium. I sometimes call him The Intruder because that’s how it was back then and throughout my childhood and teenage years. He was intent on beating anger out of me, the anger he said he’s seen and experienced from his own father. He said he recognized this anger in me immediately when I was a baby.

Things got messy. He recruited my mother as his ally, not mine. She became his collaborator, informer and secondary enforcer. This bred fear in me and outraged resistance coupled with strategic submission.

Things are different today. My parents are gone. I miss them. Yet I don’t miss their collaborative ways that continued when I was an adult.

So now I’m pushing 75, and I get to raise baby Marie! Yes, she’s a baby doll. She’s also a stand-in for that part of me that’s been cowering inside, afraid of her own voice and terrified of punishment.

Here are several things I’ve pondered these last few weeks.

  • What do I know about my mother? What did she bring to our relationship that might help me understand her–before and after my father returned as the one and only Head of the House?
  • I have the same question about my maternal grandmother Zaida. She ran off with a wealthier man when my mom was very young, and, given her habits, didn’t know how to be a mother.
  • How deep is this hole or ache in me that wants to be filled? Are there women or men who filled parts of it when I was growing up?
  • And what about behaviors and characteristics I lost after my father arrived with his agenda? So far I’ve identified things like openness and trust, a feeling of safety. No shame. A sunny disposition. Not afraid to fall or make a mess. Not afraid of most other human beings.

In some ways, growing old is a process of reverting to childhood. Becoming more dependent on others, more vulnerable to external and internal changes or challenges.

What better way, then, to envision Marie than as a baby who challenges me to become true to myself as I age? When I pay attention to Marie, including what she needs from me, I’m learning to pay attention to myself. And it isn’t so lonely anymore. Sometimes it’s even fun!

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 12 September 2018
Photo found at pixabay.com

8 Comments
September 7, 2018

Taking Heart and Courage on Friday

A kind heart
Observant eyes
And empathy
For those you meet

These become you
Daughter of Royalty
Descendant of Eve and Adam
Follower of Jesus the Bold

Look into mirrors
And out of windows
With abandon
Follow your heart

Turn around
Or turn back
Take a side road
Or a trail to nowhere

Ache and cry
Lament loudly
Wonder how long
This too will last

Forget logic
Throw caution
To winds of change
Float on ebb tide

It’s the hour
Of cruel ironies
And the sweetest
Memories

Weedy fuzzy dust
Will be here long
After you are gone
Enjoy the sunset

Bits and pieces
from the scattered run-on journal of my mind
this Friday morning

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 7 September 2018
Photo by Sally Hale Photography, found at flickr.com
Ebb Tide at Jekyll Island, Georgia, USA

5 Comments
August 11, 2018

Report from nowhere

This week I feel like an alien in my own body skin and clothes
Who is this woman? Why is she here? Do I know her anymore?
And what’s she trying to tell me? Does it even matter just now?

On top of which we have a tropical depression bearing down.
Waves of heat and humidity that don’t wave or move at all
They just sit there undulating like serpents in a pit of pain

I want to be my own free agent yet there’s always something
Something else needs attention or adjustment or acceptance
Tears well up in my eyes even when I try to smile at myself

You say all is well that ends well and yet nothing seems to end
It just spools out like pink or purple thread that won’t be contained
Knotted and tangled in a heap waiting for me to do something

Though I don’t know what it is and couldn’t care more than I do
For this body You gave me all white with blue eyes and straight
Hair that just sits there looking at me begging me to love it

This morning I wake with a dream the first I’ve had that makes
Halfway sense in this upside down world of retirement that
Feels nothing like the resurrection I need just now in my soul

In the dream a young family takes my words and music and spins
Them into beautiful visions I recognize yet don’t recognize as
Mine in the soulful music and art now accompanying our conversation

All this and more before I wake up not wanting to bid them farewell
And find myself in an airport café wondering where on earth I’m going
And why I didn’t bring any luggage and don’t want to leave just yet

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 11 August 2018

8 Comments
August 6, 2018

Alive and kicking

Heat blasts my cold skin
Cicadas blast my eardrums
Hot sun beams relentlessly
Plays hide and seek beneath
Green trees gasping for air

Climbing the baby hill
My heart speaks to me
Sensations from the past
Flood memory banks
All is well that ends well

Park maintenance crew
Arrives pulling a trailer
Full of noise makers
They greet me politely
I nod and return the favor

Just yesterday I froze in church
From the crown of my head
To the soles of my feet
Air conditioning for the young
Of which I am not one

Warmed by my husband’s body
Cheered by a hot sermon
More than satisfied with a crumb
Dipped in grape juice
I return to my seat

Grateful I’m still alive and kicking
This hot summer day in August
Out and about to survey
The landscape and forms of life
In my corner of the world

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 6 August 2018
Photo found at flickr.com

12 Comments
August 3, 2018

The air of early August

Sights and sounds of life
Fill this morning’s dense humid air
Gray and white clouds sail across blue sky

Gentle breezes persist
Carrying the voices of children
On a mission in the park
Earnestly they discuss strategies
For climbing the maple tree
Towering above them

A woman heavy with child
Drops off a friend heavy with back pack
And her young toddler eager
To climb steps on the playground gym
Preparing for those Mt. Everest trees
Waiting on the perimeter

All of us serenaded
By a chorus of birds and cicadas
Rising and falling in concert
On the air of early August

Just a few observations from my morning walk. Plus a downloaded photo of a butterfly bush plus butterfly. I walk by butterfly bushes nearly every day. Lots of lovely blossoms, but not many butterflies yet.

Being a sometimes teary sort, I’ll admit to getting the sniffles when I saw children playing in the park. A reminder of how quickly life comes and goes, taking us with it.

I don’t know if there’s a secret to living with joy and gratitude. I am, however, certain butterflies and children can show me the way when I’m willing to have a childlike heart. Which is all I’m asked to have in the presence of the One who knows me best.

Elouise♥

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 3 August 2018
Photo found at almanac.com

7 Comments
August 1, 2018

Somewhere she waits

Surfacing above deep waters
Her body a hieroglyphic vision
Of life’s subterranean journey
Through unseen landscapes
Sacred and scarred
Inspected and celebrated
Not for character or fame
But for enduring and surviving
An endangered relic
Visited periodically
In a backwater museum
Somewhere she waits

For all senior citizens periodically celebrated for living yet another year. Keepers of wisdom and history, we’ll never know them unless we ask and listen with our hearts and minds wide open. No matter how foreign, slow or garbled the language. Old age doesn’t automatically confer wisdom. It is, nonetheless, an often ignored tablet of history that shaped, blessed and haunts us.

I wrote the poem after looking at a recent photo of my Aunt’s 91st birthday party. She has multiple daughters and sons who care for her. Not all are so blessed. Though even when blessed, it’s painfully possible to be seen without being heard.

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 1 April 2018
Ukrainian Black Ink Drawing found at 123rf.com

6 Comments
July 31, 2018

Doing it My Way

Well, here I am a week later, learning to focus on thing I know I can enjoy right now. No matter what comes next.

Several days ago I decided to  list many items as I could think of. Not a bucket list of things to do before I die, but a list of things I want to enjoy as much as possible right now.

I won’t bore you with the full list, which is still growing. I do want you to see, however, that I’m in full Do It My Way mode! Sometimes I laugh out loud when I’m reviewing the growing list. And sometimes I tear up.

So here goes–a selection, beginning with the first item that popped into my head.

  1. Cooking for myself, My Way! Possibly the most important item on my list. The thought of handing over my diet to rank amateurs or know-it-alls is unthinkable.
  2. Cleaning out my dresser drawers, closets and a few other hiding places. Why? Because I don’t want ANYBODY to see what’s there, unless it counts as Something I Cannot Do Without.
  3. Dressing myself each day all by myself, in clothes that are comfortable and attractive to me (not necessarily to you).
  4. Taking care of ALL personal hygiene needs. You might try imagining what it’s like to be happy doing these things….
  5. Getting out of bed at night to look at the moon, the planets and the stars
  6. Reading poetry written by others and by me
  7. Writing poetry
  8. Having a sense of where I am and what time it is, and enjoying the rhythms of each day
  9. Feeling connected to items in our home–where they came from and why they’re important to me
  10. Recognizing myself in the mirror
  11. Knowing how to call 911 in an emergency
  12. Remembering and recognizing the faces of my family members and friends

Small things that make up my life. Things I can enjoy, appreciate and take note of every day. Not because disaster might come in a certain shape, but because life itself is precious, and all I can count on is what I have today.

Thanks for reading!
Elouise♥

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 31 July 2018
Image found at grandmalin.wordpress.com

8 Comments
July 25, 2018

gray clouds

gray clouds
hang overhead
ready to burst
at will

my umbrella
small and fragile
the only solace
I might carry
hangs on a doorknob
in my bedroom

unknowns pile on
one after another
an alphabet soup
of indecipherable
medicalese pointing
to things I cannot see
in this dim light

How long oh Lord?

brinkswomanship
does not become me
with so much planning
and packing to do
before that last trip
home

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 25 July 2018
Photo found at AccuWeather.com

6 Comments
July 23, 2018

restless breeze and crackling trees

restless breeze
sends thistle seed soaring
goldfinches descend

crackling trees thud
chain saws muzzle morning calm
my friend walks her dog

Do you remember Janet Henfrey, the inimitable Weather Lady from As Time Goes By? She was fiercely dedicated to keeping things in order, including weather reports which she delivered regularly with precision, whether anyone cared to hear them or not.

Well, I can’t say things are in order today. I can, however, say that each haiku above captures my weather report from Saturday and Monday (today) morning walks through our neighborhood.

Despite the noisy chain saws that echoed everywhere this morning, catching sight of 85-year old Rita approaching in her brilliant orange raincoat and cap with her tiny dog Charlie was the best sight of all! I joined her and had a little catch-up chat.

In some ways, this neighborhood is my ‘parish.’ Or rather, our parish. A defined spot on the globe in which we go about our business. Passing the time of day with neighbors or workers outside, and visiting with friends inside. Sharing the common news and groaning or laughing together about all kinds of aches, joys and frustrations.

Then there’s that other ‘parish’ that’s just mine. That would be you, plus anyone else who reads this post from my little outpost on the planet.

Our pastor recently challenged us to name our parishes. The places where we ‘do our thing’ most of the time. So, given my lifestyle these days, you’re It! Whether you like it or not.

Please note: This isn’t a political platform. It does, however, touch the political realm from time to time. How could it not? We can hear the trees falling and the buzz-saws grinding away every day.

Nonetheless, when I get up each day, the news isn’t my guide to who I am or where I’m headed. You can count on me to remain a follower of Jesus Christ, no matter how much I falter.

I can’t say it often enough: I’m not God, and you’re not God.

You’re welcome here. It doesn’t matter what your name is, your country of origin, your political party, your wealth or lack thereof, your attitude toward current or past administrations, the state in which you live, the color of your voting district, the color of your skin, your gender, your age or your immigration status. Plus anything else I left out of that wildly incomplete list.

If you don’t agree with me, it’s OK. I’m not God and you’re not God. Which holds true whether you believe in God or not.

You are, however, wildly welcome to muddle along with me through whatever comes next.

Happy Monday!
Elouise♥

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 23 July 2018
Photo found at idlethoughts.blog

6 Comments