Today’s #Verselove prompt was to borrow the first words of each line of a poem. I chose the first words from the poem “Those Winter Sundays” by Robert Hayden.
Sundays Remind Me of You
Sundays are days for church and rest and contemplating the week ahead. Then why does my mind find it hard to focus? From morning until night, the day is banked by the memories of you.
I’d give anything to see you again when I open my eyes in the morning and enjoy a Sunday breakfast you made with love fearing it would all be a dream.
Speaking about you and our life together reminds the world who you were, who you loved, who loved you, and the differences you made in the lives of others. What a lucky woman I am to have had a life of love and laughter with such a wonderful man.
#Verselove Prompt: the golden hinge: a form in which a borrowed line can be read horizontally as the first line of the poem as well as vertically down the left spine, as the first words of each line.”
I borrowed the line “Though we need to weep your loss” from the poem “On the Death of the Beloved” by John O’Donohue.
Today’s Verselove prompt: write a poem about beginning again. The suggested poetic form was an etheree. The poetry form, Etheree, consists of 10 lines of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 syllables. Etheree can also be reversed and written 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
I lost the love of my life to cancer shockingly, quickly. He was my everything. He is still my everything. I long to hear his voice again, to see his mischievous eyes and smile. Hoping he appears in my dreams tonight.
Dreams and memories are all that I have to get me through the long, lonely days. The glimpses of the past must do life lines when I’m feeling blue, the laughs, the tears, the love. These must sustain me. For I believe in my heart love lives on.
Chuck was the biggest Elvis Presley fan I know, and through his love of “The King,” I became a fan too. Chuck liked to think he had Elvis’s dance moves, and I have to admit, he really could dance and was never afraid to let his moves loose on the dance floor.
For the longest time, Sunday mornings were synonymous with Elvis. Chuck would listen to the “Elvis & Friends” radio show hosted by Rockin’ Ron Cade and enthusiastically sang along. It aired from 7:00 to 10:00 AM, and he would listen after attending 7:00 mass – a faithful Catholic and a faithful Elvis fan.
One of our bucket list items was to travel to Memphis and visit Graceland when I retired. That trip will remain untaken, but I will keep listening to Elvis and maybe even sing along (as long as no one else is around to hear). When I hear Elvis, I hear Chuck serenading me, and it makes me smile.
Below is a snapshot of our love story told in Elvis Presley song titles. There is no sadness, just joy.
Last Friday night, I did a thing. I read three of my latest poems at an open mic night at the Horsham Township Library, where I belong to a Poetry Writing Group. The last time I read was probably a year ago, and about 15 people were listening. This time, about 40 people attended. The large number in attendance was mostly due to a fellow group member debuting his first chapbook of poetry (very exciting).
What made this experience a little nerve-wracking was that I was reading three poems that emerged from my grief processing. Since I was reading to so many people who were not in the group and did not know my story, I had to preface my reading by telling them about Chuck’s death and how long we had been together.
When it was my turn to read, my hands were shaking more than normal. (I have familial tremors that really kick in when my adrenaline is high.) At first, I placed my hands flat on the podium, but that felt very unnatural. I remedied that by clasping my hands behind my back as I read poems two and three.
I managed to make it through my backstory and all three poems without tears, and received very nice feedback from several attendees I had never met before. Below are the three poems I shared, and I would like to share them with you. You may have read the first one in one of my first posts about the loss of Chuck, the love of my life.
Piracy
Cancer came like a marauding pirate Cunning, ruthless, Pillaging my lover’s body Plundering life as I knew it.
No time to climb to the crow’s nest And plan for the fight No time to batten down the hatches We were hit broadside.
Casting me into a sea of devastation, I am a rudderless vessel, whirling in an eddy of grief unable to fathom the loss.
A veil of sadness covers my days Marooned on an island of despair My body anchored to the weight of my grief Dehydrated from the deluge of tears.
Adrift and disoriented I am lost in the daily struggle of disbelief and loneliness Drowning in heartache and pain
Now That You’re Gone
Our keystone has been removed. Now what? Who will hold the family together? Who will hold me together, Now that you are gone?
Who will – Sniff the milk and tell me not to drink it, and leave paper towels scattered around the kitchen for me to put in the trash, or cook me five-star dinners Now that you’re gone?
Who will – I tell to pull up their pants and use a belt, And watch Phillie’s games with me Or yell at the TV on football Sundays Now that you’re gone?
Who will – Have me watching WWE on Monday nights because I am too lazy to go into another room, Or start watching a movie with me and then fall asleep Or steal the covers Now that you’re gone?
Who will – Water the plants and prevent me from murdering them And listen to me vent Or be my biggest champion Now that you’re gone?
Who will – Fill my car with gas and tires with air Or my life with purpose Now that you’re gone?
You Got It
You got it. You got it. You got it.
That’s what everyone keeps telling me, but I don’t got it. I don’t want it. I may never have it.
They tell me how well I am doing, and I deflect with a joke Too afraid, too vulnerable To reveal what’s going on.
You got it. I don’t got it! You got it. I don’t want it!
A perfume bottle from 1995 stares at me from the dresser daring me to cry.
You got it. I don’t got it! You got it. I don’t want it!
What was once easy – without a second thought has become complex and tiring getting locked out a broken storm door handle dashboard lights I haven’t seen before All can invoke tears.
You got it. I don’t got it! You got it. I don’t want it!
People offer advice for a fresh start I never asked for. But who are we to decide? Who are we to choose?
You got it. I don’t got it! You got it. I don’t want it!
But, I’ll try.
I believe I am on an endless journey that will take me to many parts of my heart and memories – familiar and unfamiliar. Grief does not have a destination; it is more like a traveling companion that you have to learn to live with.
Forty-six days ago, I lost the love of my life. A trip to the ER for what we thought were simple GI issues began an 18-day hospital stay that ended with his death. As it turns out, Chuck had a rare upper GI cancer that had spread to his brain and bone marrow before he even exhibited any symptoms. He never had a chance.
Those days in the hospital were frustrating and exhausting. We began with such hope, and every day the red tape of the healthcare system eroded it. Waiting for bloodwork results, scans, procedures, and pathology reports was excruciating. By the time we had a diagnosis, it was time to say goodbye and let him go.
I thought that night was the worst night of my life, but little did I know the days ahead would be even harder. Once the numbness of the traumatic hospital experience and the funeral wore off, the grief took hold of me.
Chuck and I met when I was fifteen and he was seventeen. We were high school sweethearts who stood the test of time and celebrated our 45th wedding anniversary this past August. This coming December would have been 52 years together—practically my whole life – and he was my entire life! I don’t know how to do life without him.
Although my commute home from school is only 10 minutes, I called him every day, and we talked until he saw me pull into the driveway. We loved being together and were best friends. Every facet of our lives meshed together like a well-oiled machine. Now my life has come to a screeching halt.
Even though I am back in the classroom, and my students brighten my days, I am struggling to make sense of the unimaginable loss. How will I find the strength to move forward without Chuck by my side? My head knows that grieving takes time – lots of it, but my heart is broken, and the sadness often consumes me.
Writing has always been a way for me to process life and feelings. Below is the first poem I wrote since Chuck’s death. I am sure that writing will help me through this grieving process. Thank you for letting me share some of it with you.
Cancer came like a marauding pirate Cunning, ruthless, Pillaging my lover’s body Plundering life as I knew it.
No time to climb to the crow’s nest And plan for the fight No time to batten down the hatches We were hit broadside.
Casting me into a sea of devastation, I am a rudderless vessel, whirling in an eddy of grief unable to fathom the loss.
A veil of sadness covers my days Marooned on an island of despair My body anchored to the weight of my grief Dehydrated from the deluge of tears.
Adrift and disoriented, I am lost in the daily struggle of disbelief and loneliness Drowning in heartache and pain.
Rita DiCarne 