Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Tag: Relationships

May 15, 2019

Sleep-walking

Sleep-walking
Through another day
Weariness drops into
Dry bones like rain

Eyes mist at the sight
Of old friends making
Music tug at my heart

The clock ticks through
Evening gasping for
Breath undone by the
Speed of life’s descent
Into restless sleep
And premature birth
Of tomorrow

I’ve missed posting for a few days, which feels like forever. Monday was all about seeing my cardiologist, and getting the OK to keep doing what I’m already doing to live with A-fib (atrial fibrillation). Yesterday I visited with two friends before enjoying a quiet, sleepy afternoon at home.

The days are getting longer on the outside, with lots of early morning birdsong. This makes it more pleasant, but not easier to roll out of bed in the mornings. Mother’s Day was quiet, unseasonably cold and rainy. I propose we schedule another Mother’s Day to be celebrated on the first sunny Sunday from today!

Now I’m off to work on that second Longwood Gardens Photo post.

Cheers!
Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 14 May 2019
Misty Rainforest photo taken by Andre Kosslick, found at colorear.myhydros.org

2 Comments
May 1, 2019

Teach me to number my days

I inhabit moments
One after the other,
Not without hope

I witness resurrection partially
In passing seasons of my life
And repeated seasons of nature

Seasons of life
are once and over
living on in aging memory
and dusty memorabilia

Though my spirit revives
From time to time,
The clock ticks on
Without reverting to zero

I hope for what I cannot see
And choose to let go of certainty,
Falling instead into something
I’ve never seen or known

There’s sadness and agony
In daily and final death;
I’m invited to accept this
Not deny or sublimate it
As though it didn’t exist

Is hesitation to own
The agony of death
A denial of life as it is
On this side of
Whatever comes next?

In this life I’m called
To face fears, regrets, sorrows,
And the anguish of saying goodbye
Not once but many times over

Whatever comes next
It isn’t about denial or
We’ll cross that bridge
When we come to it

It’s about preparing for death
Every day of my life
Because it matters to me
and to those I leave behind

So teach me to number my days….

This is my attempt to put a few personal thoughts into words. I’m convinced this part of my life is about learning to die and learning to talk and write about it. Not the moment of death itself, but how I’m doing (or not doing) at living this last chapter of my life.

So this is where I am as of today. Thanks for reading, and for any comments you care to leave. I’m most grateful!

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 1 May 2019
Photo of Masai Mara National Park Sunset found at brettstephens.com

6 Comments
April 30, 2019

Born to Die


Teach us to number our days;
That we may gain a heart of wisdom.
Psalm 90:12, New International Version

I can’t help thinking these days about a theme in the gospels. Jesus set his face toward Jerusalem. Not for political fame or religious adulation, but to die. He seemed to know what it meant to number his days.

Jesus set his face toward Jerusalem
Stubborn and determined
Abrasive and unconventional
Observant and angry
Weary and compassionate
Single-minded and welcoming
With his face set toward Jerusalem
From the beginning
Born to die sooner not later

I’m used to celebrating Jesus’ life and all the good and challenging things he said. I’m not so accustomed to celebrating his dogged, stubborn, insistent daily orientation toward death.

Jesus of Nazareth didn’t just happen to fall into the hands of his political and religious enemies. He knew who would betray him, yet didn’t try to stop him. Instead, he sent his betrayer out to do the deed. He met death straight on. Just as he was. Without machines of warfare, without fame or fortune, and without an army of loyal supporters.

“Teach us to number our days.” It’s a tough standard. I’d rather add to my days. Pretend it won’t happen to me today. Or that I’ll die in the best of circumstances.

We live in a time of global and local upheaval. Everywhere. What does it mean to set our faces toward death? I think it would mean setting our faces differently toward each other and toward nature.

I could sit back and say what will be, will be. The future isn’t mine to see. Still, what does it mean to number my days? And how does this change the way I live in the present, no matter how long it is before I die?

Writing about death (instead of ignoring it) is comforting. It’s also challenging. My hope is that the challenging part will bring more joy, gratitude, empathy and compassion into my life. Not just for myself, but for family members, friends, neighbors and strangers. We’re all in this together, though strangely alone in our deaths.

Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 30 April 2019
Photo found at nateholdridge.com

8 Comments
April 28, 2019

Shifting gears

Shifting gears
Uncertain where
When or how
This experiment
Will end

Sitting in my attic
A buzzer sounds
Time Up!
But I’m not yet
Finished

Put down your pen
Search your heart
Love your body and
The grand experiment
Of being alive

I hear cars passing
In steady parade
Like-minded drivers
Trying to get there
On time

Am I on time?
Did the party begin?
Where are the streamers
And Minnie Mouse
balloons?

Today becomes
Tomorrow too soon
For my liking
Will you still be there
To love me?

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 28 April 2019
Image found at prestigepartysupplies.com

2 Comments
April 27, 2019

Before I die

In November 2013 I wrote the following opening and closing lines of Why This Blog?

I need to say some things out loud before I die. I’m not knowingly staring death in the face, yet I know my days are numbered….If I don’t tell the truth about my life, I will die inside. I want to live, and I want my children and grandchildren to live.

I didn’t know it then, but this blog isn’t just about the truth of my life as I’ve experienced it. It’s also about my death. Not that I know the day and hour. I don’t. Still, it’s closer now than it was in November 2013—the month before I published my first post.

I just searched my posts. So far, not by conscious design, I’ve written about death 175 times (out of 1398 total). It seems I can’t let this topic go.

I find writing about death is comforting. I didn’t grow up in a family that talked easily about death or dying. Nor have I been part of a community or church that focused on this, especially as part of life.

I’m not a morbid person by nature. I am, however, keenly aware of my mortality. Not just because of my age and health issues, but because of the increasing disruption and unpredictability of life on this planet.

So what does it mean to die? Not just at the end of life, but along the way from here to there. And how does that change my daily choices and relationships? Especially with my family members, beginning with D.

These are a few things on my mind these days. Which is another way of saying I’ll be posting more pieces about death. I’ll also post other things as well–my take on the current state of affairs in the USA, photo posts from adventures with D, poetry, the occasional report about life with Smudge, and whatever else wants to be written.

Thanks to each of you for visiting, reading, and sharing your experiences from time to time.
Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 27 April 2019
Photo taken by DAFraser in the Portland Rose Garden

5 Comments
April 17, 2019

Within my Garden, rides a Bird

Here’s a fun riddle-like poem from Emily Dickinson, followed by my note to Emily. Today is the anniversary of my sister Diane’s birthday. She lived with ALS for ten years before dying in 2006. Diane was 61 years old. One of her greatest joys was watching hummers feast in her back yard garden. A garden created in her mind, and in reality by her family and friends. A magical place where anything could happen.

Within my Garden, rides a Bird
Upon a single Wheel –
Whose spokes a dizzy Music make
As ‘twere a travelling Mill –

He never stops, but slackens
Above the Ripest Rose –
Partakes without alighting
And praises as he goes,

Till every spice is tasted –
And then his Fairy Gig
Reels in remoter atmospheres –
And I rejoin my Dog,

And He and I, perplex us
If positive, ‘twere we –
Or bore the Garden in the Brain
This Curiosity –

But He, the best Logician,
Refers my clumsy eye –
To just vibrating Blossoms!
An Exquisite Reply!

c. 1862

Emily Dickinson Poems, Edited by Brenda Hillman
Shambhala Pocket Classics, Shambhala 1995

Dearest Emily,

What a fun riddle! Of course the answer is obvious, at least to your Dog. What isn’t so obvious is how your nimble mind creates miniature stage productions from fleeting, everyday realities.

I don’t remember one single occasion when a tiny hummer elicited in my mind’s eye a complete and detailed account of what was going on before my wide-open eyes—all in the space of 5 seconds max.

I see a gorgeous hummingbird. You see an entire stage production played out impromptu on the canvases of your Garden and your fertile imagination.

Actually, spectacular is too weak for whatever is happening in your imagination. And then there’s your super-observant Dog who figures it all out!

I fear we’re losing our capacity to see things with lively imagination. Not just in the natural world, but on the streets of our towns and cities. And in each other.

What might happen if we could be inquisitive young children again? Or get caught up in the wonder of other human beings, or the keen observational skills of our pets?

Just a note to let you know how much I enjoyed your poem. Happy Wednesday to you from me, your erratic pen pal and sometime follower.

Elouise♥

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 17 April 2019
Hummingbird and Roses artwork found at pinterest.com

4 Comments
April 16, 2019

Thinking about death

A stranger to myself
Thoughts of this and that
Invade my mind —
One insight after another
Offering a panacea
to this earthly body
Plodding on despite
Resurrection of hope
And flashes of insight about
Who I am and why this
Right now instead of that

Yet like a sick rollercoaster
Moments of brilliance
Collide with weary batteries
Unable to keep up with
This ever more distant
Dream called normalcy
That sputters weak as
Watered-down tea in
Tasteless cups of vintage wine
Gone sour hidden in
Abandoned corners now
Littered with the debris
Of forgotten loves and
Laundry not hung out to dry

I’m dying
One breath at a time
Aided by living
One breath at a time
Do I understand this?
Somewhat
Do I like this?
No
Do I accept this?
Sometimes

And there’s this as well –
The daily rescue of my entire being
From the despair of not knowing
Whose or why I am in this world
And why the beauty of staying battles daily
With the beautiful lure of leaving

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 16 April 2019
Image found at bestwallpapers.in

5 Comments
April 15, 2019

Sunday afternoon walk and my heart

Spring air hangs breathless and damp
Broken by chirping bird songs
And children’s muffled voices
Clouds roll in silent and gray
Saturated with sprinkles
Gathering for a shower

The gathering shower turned into a ferocious thunder and lightning storm–over 500 lightning strikes last night in Philly! I slept through every moment of it. Astonishing. Today the storm is over the Atlantic, and blustery wind has moved in. Temperatures drop by the hour.

Nonetheless, beautiful green leaves, colorful flowering trees and shrubs, and small wildflowers are taking over! No turning back the clock.

During the last month I rearranged my daily routines to support what my heart wants and needs. Sometimes it’s as simple as postponing grocery shopping. Other times, it’s not so easy. Like staying home from church two of the last four Sundays after waking up with an unsteady heartbeat and the weakness that comes with it.

On the other hand, during the same time frame I visited with two of my woman friends, talked with at least two others on the phone, had email correspondence with a few others, enjoyed tea and conversation with our next-door neighbors, walked regularly with D, talked with our son and daughter via phone, and played with Smudge.

I’ve also posted from time to time, enjoyed hearing from some of you, and saw others peeking out from your gravatars!

So here’s to a thoughtful Holy Week, listening to all nature sing on and off-key, and staying in touch with ourselves and with the Great Shepherd of the sheep. Much we need Thy tender care.

Elouise♥

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 15 April 2019
Photo of Center City, Philadelphia; taken by Bill Cannon; found at fineartamerica.com
Photo of Smudge playing hide and seek, taken by me!

4 Comments
April 11, 2019

Why stick around?

My fingers wait expectantly
Pause, take a deep breath and begin

A brief list of reasons to stick around:

No.

A brief list of reasons I’m needed:

Maybe.

Trying to get my bearings
In this age of approaching death
With scores of unanswered questions
Littering every inch of every path I’ve ever taken

And yet
I felt needed back then
Fully awake each day to challenges
That meant something to somebody
Things that would make a difference

Is that all this life is about? No.

Perhaps I’m going at this the wrong way

Maybe I need myself
Just as I am

Not to be a hero
Or the perfect aging-with-grace senior
But to love myself
Especially those aging parts that give me grief

Not so they’ll go away and leave me alone
Though I confess to the occasional daydream
But because they need me

They need me to go with them
Through this brilliant terrifying valley
Of aging and dying with or without dignity

Besides,

Who else would hear the true beat of my heart
From the inside out

Or sit in the attic loving the silence of treetops
Dancing in the wind

Or play the piano feeling waves of music
Flooding my soul

Or understand the sweet comfort of falling asleep
While leaning on D’s shoulder

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 11 April 2019
Photo of a German forest at sunset, found at pixabay.com

15 Comments
April 5, 2019

Swamped

Swamped
By enthusiasm
In over my head
Planning futures
I cannot deliver

Dreams masquerade
In yesterday’s clothes;
Life stumbles into
Uncharted terrain
Grand intentions
Beg me to clip their wings
Then crash into splinters
Drowning at my feet
Screaming for mercy

Yesterday was beautiful–sunny and mild. I felt like doing anything and everything. On my feet. Until I couldn’t.

Unfortunately, D is a convenient target when things start falling apart. Which they do and did. It’s easy to pick a verbal argument with him (about him, of course).

It’s way more difficult to stop my tongue and ask myself how I got to this unhappy space. And what I must do right now to care for my aching feet.

Several days ago I posted Exiting the Room. It was, and still is, about my heart’s health. However, it’s also about exiting negative emotions or breaking vicious cycles that creep up on me. And giving D the break he deserves!

Happy Friday!
Elouise♥

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 5 April 2019
Image  found at imgnooz.com

2 Comments