Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Tag: Relationships

December 16, 2023

Grief revisited

 

winter sun pierces
my paralyzed heart waking
frozen grief at will

The last few years have been difficult in ways I never anticipated. For whatever it’s worth, I’m not wired to be a happy-go-lucky woman. Nor am I eager or able to ‘get over’ what my body and spirit can’t let go of.

How might I make use of grief I’ve experienced for 80 years as the female I was and now am? Not because it will make me feel better, but because grief acknowledged and shared can build bridges with people we never dreamed we would meet.

Due to ongoing health issues, I struggle with daily isolation. Still, I’m a people person. These days tears come quickly. They’re often followed by anguish and anger at how isolated I feel, and how many things I can’t count on anymore.

When I was in my late 40s, I did five years of personal work in AlAnon. I attended meetings three times a week. I learned quickly that what triggered my desire to fix others kept me from tending to my own pain. For the first time ever, I learned to listen. I also learned when and how to seek help from trusted friends.

Naming my issues and being accepted for the woman I am created a bridge of trust that gave me hope and courage to keep going. I don’t know exactly where this will take me. Still, I’m grateful for your visit today. Especially now, as things seem to be falling apart wherever we look.

Praying you’ll find peace and hope during this holy season.
Elouise

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 16 December 2023
Photo of Northern Lights at edge of Boreal Forest, Manitoba, Canada taken by David Marx, found at pinterest.com

21 Comments
September 16, 2023

Where and Who am I?

This morning I looked out our kitchen window just as a beautiful adult Flicker landed on one of our birdbaths. Stunning. Sure of himself. And most of all, grateful for a drink of water.

I sometimes wonder these days why I’m still alive. Not because I wish I were dead, but because it seems there’s nothing left for me in this life. Which, of course, I know is a Great Big Lie.

Weather. Politics. War. Famine. Floods. Typhoons. Hurricanes. Fires. Merciless Killings. Fear.

All of it, or even some of it by itself is More Than Enough. The value of one soul seems to have plunged to the bottom of the heap. And I wonder every day, Why am I still here?

No, I’m not sitting here doing nothing. There are people and programs needing all the help they can get. Still, fatigue comes on quickly. Especially with the hot summer we’ve had. But more than that is going on in me.

Today, if all goes well, I’ll enjoy a walk with D in our neighborhood. If all goes extremely well, I’ll see some birds I recognize, or have a short conversation with a neighbor also out for a walk.

Isn’t this enough? I don’t know. I wonder sometimes how, where and when we’re supposed to learn to be old people. Especially old people at home. By the time we take care of our aging bodies, or finish the bare necessities (laundry, cooking, a teeny tiny bit of cleaning), what have we accomplished?

One thing is clear: I love blogging. I don’t love all the changes WordPress has made. Still, while I have my little corner, I’m happy to be part of the human race with all its agony and ecstasy. Especially now.

Thanks for stopping by and reading. I wonder, what gets you through a tough day or a hard night?

Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 16 September 2023
Photo taken by DAFraser, February 2015; Flicker in our holly tree enjoying free lunch

15 Comments
August 15, 2023

What does it mean to be free?

I used to think leaving home would set me free
No more eyes watching my every move
No more beatings meant to break my resistance
No more unwelcome talks about how I needed to change
No more books or surreptitious hints about
how to be a good Christian daughter or woman

All I had to do was stay ‘pure,’ get married, and leave home–
preferably far from my parents and their attempts
to make me into the woman I could never be

Early in our marriage I went back to school. First seminary, and later university.  Before university, I traveled to Germany for five months of intensive German language study. I came home fluent. Even my dreams were auf Deutsch. Through all this, my husband, my children, and my piano held me together no matter where I was.

Sadly, this didn’t include staying connected to my sisters. A ‘small’ thing I thought didn’t matter.

Today, after Ruth’s recent death from congestive heart failure, plus Diane’s earlier death from ALS, I have one sister left on this earth. She’s my youngest sister, the one I scarcely knew when I married and left home. Thankfully, our lives crossed after I began teaching at the seminary in the 1980’s.

I used to think connections with my parents came first, though they were often painful. Today I know better. My relationship with each sister shaped me far more than my parents did, despite their efforts to turn me into a good girl/woman.

Diane and I found each other first, thanks to her willingness to talk with me about our childhood struggles with our parents. My youngest sister and I connected following the sudden death of her husband about ten years ago. I wish I could say that Sister #2 and I found each other before her death this past June. We talked on the phone from time to time and emailed each other about health issues. But we never felt fully at ease with each other.

Still, we were reaching out as adults. This went against everything our father tried to program in us. No talking or giggling with each other when the lights went out. No complaining to each other about family business. No secrets kept from our parents. Ever.

Instead, we were to smile, obey Daddy’s Rules for Good Girls, and show up every Sunday at church. Furthermore, if we had things to say to each other, we were to keep our parents in the “know” even after we’d married and moved far away from them and each other.

Thanks for listening, and for stopping by today.
Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 15 August 2023
Photo found at medium.com

16 Comments
June 26, 2023

Grief and Broken Hearts

Grandpa Gury with our Mom and her four daughters, 1959

grief insinuates
prickly memories into air
struggling to breathe

waves of despair
wash over old gains
searching for home

abrupt endings
leave little space or time
for grieving hearts

Last night Sister #2 died of congestive heart failure. Ruth was born in July 1945. The photo at the top is one of my favorites–all four sisters, Mother, and our maternal Grandpa.

Due to health issues, we won’t be flying or driving to Texas for Ruth’s memorial service. Here’s one more photo from the beginning of our life together. Sometimes I wish I could go back and start over, this time without fear of my father or other men and women in my life, and without things like ALS or congestive heart failure hanging in the air.

Easter Sunday with Ruth, Diane, Elouise,
plus Judy in the doll carriage, 1952

Thank you for stopping by today. The world is different now than it was 80 years ago. Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it to keep going. But then…without warning…I meet wonderful people who remind me that we’re not alone. Especially in times like these.

Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 26 June 2023
Photos taken by my father, JERenich

32 Comments
May 13, 2023

My Mother’s Spirit – revisited

I still love this photo and the short poem below about my Mother (Eileen). She died in 1999 following a brain hemorrhage that was too much to overcome, given her post-polio problems and other physical ailments.

Mother looked nothing like the woman in the photo above with this exception: She never gave up. Eileen loved her favorite bright red winter coat. She also loved playing the piano, cooking with next to nothing in the larder, turning small bits of this and that into a miraculous feast. She also served as a lifeguard at swimming pools, and was like a child who always loved to sing and play games with her daughters and the neighborhood kids.

Still, she and I didn’t get to know each other from the inside out until late in her life. Her extrovert and my introvert rarely seemed to come together–except when one or both of us sat down to play the piano.

After my 1993 meeting with my parents, we managed to stay in touch. It wasn’t easy at first, but slowly we began to see each other from a different point of view. When she had her last stroke and was taken to the hospital and then hospice care, I began to understand how lonely her life had become, and how much she loved the music that tied us together.

Here’s the poem I wrote several years ago. It goes with the photo above, and still makes me tear up.

My mother’s spirit
came calling last night
I saw her footprints
in this morning’s snow
precise and measured
She passed quietly
beneath my window
step by small-hooved step
down the driveway
before crossing over
into the woods beyond
our house asleep
and dreaming

Thank you for stopping by today. This world continues to be very harsh toward women, especially during times of disorder and disarray. Mother’s Day gives us another opportunity to appreciate what it takes, especially in these troubled times, to carry on as a mother in the midst of chaos.

Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 13 May 2023
Photo found at fiftiness.com

13 Comments
May 4, 2023

A Pretty Song | Mary Oliver

Photo taken by DAF on our 56th wedding anniversary, 2021

Here’s yet another wise poem from Mary Oliver. This one hits close to home. My comments follow.

A Pretty Song

From the complications of loving you
I think there is no end or return.
No answer, no coming out of it.

Which is the only way to love, isn’t it?
This isn’t a playground, this is
earth, our heaven, for a while.

Therefore I have given precedence
to all my sudden, sullen, dark moods
that hold you in the center of my world.

And I say to my body: grow thinner still.
And I say to my fingers, type me a pretty song.
And I say to my heart: rave on.

© 2006 by Mary Oliver
Published by Beacon Press in Thirst, p. 22

To love a partner until death do us part is costly. Partly because there’s no getting away from what happens along the way from here to there. No easy exits. Just one unexpected complication after another with which partners must deal. Even when they decide to go their so-called ‘separate’ ways.

And yet, given the sudden twists and turns of life, what rises to the top is indisputable. Especially as the end of life creeps closer every day.

This morning D is having some not-so-wonderful tests to find out what’s going on in his heart. Not the heart that loves me, but the heart that will one day stop beating no matter how much he loves me or I love him.

Mary Oliver’s poem above is about the loss of her life partner, what it’s like to go on living without her, and what it takes get through the ups and downs of grief. Not a pretty picture, but an invitation to another way of loving.

Praying your day is filled with opportunities to let your partner and/or best friends know how much you love them. Now, instead of later.

Thank you for stopping by. On the whole, I think I’m becoming less distressed by the ups and downs of life. Then again….
Elouise♥

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 4 May 2023
Photo taken by DAFraser at Longwood Gardens, 2021

8 Comments
April 3, 2023

Getting back to ‘normal’

Thanks for visiting! I haven’t posted anything since March 11. Here’s a quick rundown.

On February 22 I had surgery to replace pacemaker I Love Lucy I with I Love Lucy II. The surgery went well, though the anesthesiologist arrived about 3 hours late (not her fault). Post-surgery was a nightmare of pain and itching due to use of a strong saline solution that messed up my skin. It’s still healing.

In the middle of March, two long anticipated events occurred. First, D turned 80 years old! Second, our daughter and her husband visited us for the first time in more than 3 years (thanks, Covid). They live in Oregon. Both are superb musicians. Our son-in-law was part of the recent Unwound coast-to-coast tour, playing two nights in Philadelphia a few weeks ago. No, I didn’t get to hear the concert in person. Too late and too much for an old lady like me. Besides, what I most wanted was to spend time with them–which we did, before they flew back to Oregon.

Finally, about three months ago I began taking a small capsule twice a day for pain caused by peripheral neuropathy in my feet. It isn’t a drug, and it won’t heal anything. Instead, it reduces pain in my feet. If you’re interested in knowing about this kind of nonprescription approach to many inflammation problems, here’s a Harvard University article. Long, and incredibly interesting.

Finally, it seems we are in yet another Trump show, whether we like it or not. In addition, climate change seems here to stay, and we have fallen into world war whether we like it or not. What will come tomorrow? I don’t know. So here’s small poem about what I do know—about myself.

Cast onshore
Of a deserted island
Shaking water
From my eyes
Seeing nothing
And nobody
As unanticipated
I wonder aloud
Who am I
And why am I here
Now and not then
When all seemed well
That ended well

Published in Without a Flight Plan, p. 61
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 2021

Thank you for stopping by, especially in the middle of trying times.
Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 3 April 2023

7 Comments
February 20, 2023

Life with Lucy

Seven years ago, in early 2016, two events changed my life. First, I got a pacemaker to help with my heart issues. It went well. I was relieved and slightly ecstatic to have this new gadget that has helped keep me alive for the last seven years.

As some of you already know, Lucy (as in “I love Lucy“) is the name I gave my new pacemaker. She’s been with me through all kinds of ups and downs. That includes breaking my jaw in 2016, just two weeks after getting my pacemaker. There aren’t words to describe how devasted I felt. Especially because I’d just met Lucy and was on my way to a much-needed hair cut!

Suddenly I was living with wired jaws for about five weeks, followed by rehab exercises and drastic food changes. I’m not a party animal. I am, however, a people person. I know beyond a doubt that Lucy, along with D, Smudge, music, family members and friends got me through days and nights of despair and pain.

Two days from now I’m scheduled to get a replacement battery for Lucy. I’m told it’s nothing compared to getting the pacemaker. We shall see.

Do I still love Lucy? You bet I do! Right now I’m looking at a lovely Valentine’s Day card from a member of my church. The front of the card says “Love is patient and is kind.”  Sometimes I wish I could blame my body for the pain it causes me. Thankfully, I’m learning to be patient and kind toward my various bodily aches and restrictions.

That’s my news for today! We’re in a mess here in the USA. All the more reason to be patient and kind with ourselves and with neighbors and strangers near and far. Right now.

Thanks for stopping by!
Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 20 February 2023
photo found at wallpaperweb.org

18 Comments
February 11, 2023

Through the valley of the shadow of death

On 28 December 2005, I wrote a letter to my sister Diane. After more than nine years, ALS had done its worst. After an emergency visit to the hospital, she chose to return home to die. During the long wait, she was surrounded by family, friends, and caretakers. I’m grateful I could fly from Philadelphia to Houston once more before she died. I’ve reformatted most of my letter into poetic form. I still tear up when I read it.

Dear Diane,

I can’t stop thinking about the way Jesus’ birth was, for him,
a valley of the shadow of death—
leaving the most glorious home he’d ever had,
taking the final and first step all at the same time—
leaving heaven and stepping into earthly reality.
Did he have time to get ready?
I imagine him choosing this new form of life
without struggling against it
as God’s fullness of time approached for him.

I wonder how death is unfolding for you.

I pray you aren’t struggling to hang on,
and that your faith is growing as things keep falling relentlessly away.
I pray the steady sound of your breath
moving through the ventilator
will calm your mind and your heart.
I pray fear and anxiety will give way to
peace in the midst of pain, grief and deep sorrow.
I pray the Christmas tree in your room will remind you
of the tree of life—a small sign of Jesus Christ
who is with you and for you.
I pray the willingness of your beloved family members
to bid you farewell will be nurturing and sustaining—
A small sign of Jesus Christ who is with and for you.
I pray the loyalty, skill and tenderness of your caretakers
will comfort and cheer you on.
I pray the small dogs and the big human animals egging them on
will have you in stitches from time to time.
I pray your grandchildren will plant sloppy kisses on your cheeks,
and the adults, too!

I wonder—
Do you hear angel choirs singing from time to time?
I pray you’ll hear them more and more—singing over and beneath
your fears and the emotional pain of saying goodbye
to the wonderful friends and family members God has given you.
You have been a wondrous gift to us.
I’d like to think you were given just to me!
But I know you were given to an entire world of people
whose lives have touched yours and been touched by you.
If you can imagine us as an angel choir—
or at least a faint echo of that—
I pray it will bring a smile to your heart and a tear to your eye.
We’re singing God’s praises for giving us time on this earth with you—
God’s beloved daughter child.

With love, from the only oldest sister you’ll ever have,
Elouise♥

Thank you for stopping by. There’s so much heartbreak these days. I pray you’ll find peace and comfort as we watch and participate in these days of uncertainty and sorrow.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 11 February 2023
Photo found at greengateturf.com; Texas azaleas

9 Comments
December 30, 2022

Mary Oliver | Three Poems for 2023

How are we doing today? Not just as individuals, but as citizens in a world screaming with pain. Mary Oliver’s three short poems below, one after another, ask us to turn our attention inward. Whether we like it or not, we’re in this together. My brief comments follow.

The Morning Paper

Read one newspaper daily (the morning edition
is the best
for by evening you know that you at least
have lived through another day)
and let the disasters, the unbelievable
yet approved decisions,
soak in.

I don’t need to name the countries,
ours among them.

What keeps us from falling down, our faces
to the ground, ashamed, ashamed?

~~~

The Poet Compares Human Nature
To The Ocean From Which We Came

The sea can do craziness, it can do smooth,
it can lie down like silk breathing
or toss havoc shoreward; it can give

gifts or withhold all; it can rise, ebb, froth
like an incoming frenzy of fountains, or it can
sweet-talk entirely. As I can too,

and so, no doubt, can you, and you.

~~~

On Traveling To Beautiful Places 

Every day I’m still looking for God
and I’m still finding him everywhere,
in the dust, in the flowerbeds.
Certainly in the oceans,
in the islands that lay in the distance
continents of ice, countries of sand
each with its own set of creatures
and God, by whatever name.
How perfect to be aboard a ship with
maybe a hundred years still in my pocket.
But it’s late, for all of us,
and in truth the only ship there is
is the ship we are all on
burning the world as we go.

~~~

Published by Penguin Books in A Thousand Mornings/Mary Oliver, pp. 65-69
Copyright © 2012 by NW Orchard LL.C

I love poems about beauty and truth. I’m not sure, however, how to mix beauty and truth when we seem to be falling apart. Ignoring what can’t be ignored. Making ‘exceptions’ for those who seem to hold the most power of any kind.

Mary Oliver invites and even dares us to see the world as it is. Not the world as we wish it were, or the world we think we can ignore. She also invites us to repent. To turn around. To see and live whatever truth we can with at least one other person. One day, one problem, one fleeting moment at a time, regardless of what others may think about us.

Praying we’ll find renewed life with each other in the coming year, regardless of our country, religion, politics, gender, or age. And . . . I wish each of you a truly happy new year in which you find courage you never thought possible.
Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 30 December 2022
Photo found at phys.org/news/2022-23

9 Comments