Bad Poetry Thursdays

The texture of my love,

makes it difficult to grasp.

Like the space between

ridges on a penny,

you fumble to retrieve

with nails cut too short.

 

I push

until it is forced

against something solid

and

space opens

for my insistence.

 

It gives way

to rough hewn articulations,

and I grab at it with motions,

too clumsy and insensitive

for such a task,

when cut to the quick.

Rest. Find Peace. Be Calm.

Dear Ryan,

I wish I knew magic words. I wish I had secret letters to make your family's loss make sense. I know a lot of words. I know words big and small, grand and silly. But, I don't know any words to let a nine year old girl make sense of losing her Dad. I don't know how to tell a five year old boy it will be okay.

I don't know if it will.

You were a good man, Ryan. You had faults. You had issues. You had all those things we wish we did not have, but do. I hate the phenomenon that turns someone's character into caricature. Your reactions, your stresses, your foibles made you one of us. When we laughed at you, we were always laughing at ourselves too.

We will miss you Ryan.

Your death was senseless. All death's are senseless in the moment. It was sad, and stupid and reminds us all life sucks hard at times. A simple set of stairs, and slightly delayed reactions, and you were gone. It is a scenario we have all negotiated many times.

You deserved better.

Good night my colleague, my friend, my fellow Dad and husband. Your kids will grow up with questions and rage, and more questions. I hope someone always tells them you loved them. You were a man struggling to find his way in the world, at times. But, you never looked more comfortable, more peaceful, or more at rest than with your children. They were the greatest gift you had.

I hope, one day, they'll realize you were their's.

Father's Day Questions of Love and Regret

My second Father's Day just passed. The first one hardly counted. My boys were a handful of days old last June. They are too young to understand we reserve specific days for celebration. Their world is not segmented. But the day was a reminder of things to come. It was a remembrance of what is gone.

My Dad died in 2011. It's not a constant pain. My dead Dad is a simple, shitty truth. I am old enough that he isn't the only hole in my world. But, his shadow looms large in my imagination a couple days past this Father's Day. I should say that I miss him. I'm not sure that is true. I no longer redigest regrets like that.

I miss what I could have given back.

I wish my minions could meet their Grandpa. Despite being a grumpy introvert he loved his children and grandchildren. This was a good man who didn't love a lot of people. I wouldn't have described him as full of joy. I wish I could have brought some more light to him. My twins bring joy. I'm not being conceited. I don't think I'm special. They are. There is something about twins that people open their hearts to. I've encountered this every time I've been in public with them. It's remarkable. I miss sharing that with my Mom and Dad.

I think my Mom misses that too.

My Dad isn't the only broken piece of my story. I've lost three of four Grandparents. Each of them meant something special. My boys carry part of each of their names. I wish they could cuddle and love my twins like my maternal Grandmother has been able to. But those are small wishes. Great grandparents are a luxury. It is a lie to say I think of them and what could have been. It isn't something I miss, or regret.

I do miss J.P.

J.P. was the centre of my university life. She brought me and my partner together. She dragged me into friendships when I wasn't comfortable around people. She knew I was smart and capable when I had forgotten and was stumbling, unguided into my future. She is a big part of my Ph.D. She was the gravitational centre of my life for many years. Long after my spouse and I were living together and I had started pursuing Grad school she was still the centre. We orbited around her inevitable force of life.

I don't miss her for any of those things.

I miss her for the same reason as my Dad. I miss the opportunity to pay her back for her love and kindness. J.P. was an example of the buoyancy of the human spirit. J.P. didn't have an easy life. I don't know all the details but she actively practiced love and friendship. She was a beacon for many of us. Her glow was part act, part force of will and all choice. She was braver than I realized during our years together. I wish I could have shared the light and joy of my minions with her too. Her death is one of the reasons my partner and I haven't formalized our 'marriage'. It seems wrong without J.P. standing by our side.

She is an empty seat at every celebration.

I won't let those seats gather dust. I will share memories of all my past and present loves on days of celebration and ritual. I will make the past more than ghosts that haunt our regrets. I will make them part of our family story of love.

There will always be a place in my heart, my home, and my family for my Dad and our burnt out star J.P.