She's a little over three feet
and when your eyes meet
you see into her soul.
This littlest girl of mine is a treasure to behold.
I took the test on the 17th of February in 2005.
God knew that we would need something positive in our lives.
Three months after Mom went Home she was brought into this world,
and ever since I've been thanking God for this little tiny girl.
She's tiny and she's feisty and as funny as she can be.
She gets naked when she's angry and dressed when she's happy.
(she's running around naked right now...can you guess how she feels?)
I know one day she'll leave and abandoned is how we'll feel.
She smiles at me and calls me 'Mommy' and I melt all over again.
All of a sudden listening to Barney doesn't seem such a drain.
And yesterday when I was so blue she's the only one who remembered
that Marshall "Teacup" is our tiniest family member.
I wish you could all meet Reagan. She's the happiest of the three kids, and the one to whom I feel the most connected (not that I don't love all of my kids..you'll be meeting them in poem soon). But yesterday, I was holding Marshall's urn, and she said Marshall (to me) for the first time. I usually say "marshall" to her and she'll say "Teacup" (Jacob)...but she did it all on her own yesterday.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Take Me Away
I want to run far away to a time and a place I am beginning to forget
where times were easier and pleasures were many and of our futures we didn't fret.
It's all too much this "dream" of mine, and I want to shut down my tired mind.
I envy my single friends, you see. Their lives are a little easier it seems.
To be able to live and laugh and love instead of battling just to stay above.
Marriage isn't all it's cracked up to be; I need some room just to breathe.
Now that they are here, God, don't take them away.
I've already lost my son, and the grief is more than words can say.
But please help them behave so I can pull myself together
and just be done with today's battle of waiting for another.
where times were easier and pleasures were many and of our futures we didn't fret.
It's all too much this "dream" of mine, and I want to shut down my tired mind.
I envy my single friends, you see. Their lives are a little easier it seems.
To be able to live and laugh and love instead of battling just to stay above.
Marriage isn't all it's cracked up to be; I need some room just to breathe.
Now that they are here, God, don't take them away.
I've already lost my son, and the grief is more than words can say.
But please help them behave so I can pull myself together
and just be done with today's battle of waiting for another.
Beauty
I've been called lots of things throughout my 34 years.
Smart, logical, loving...but what I haven't been called has caused me tears.
He says I'm beautiful and I wonder why it is that he's the only one
that's ever said that; surely his mind is gone.
Why does it matter what others think of me?
This one hang up will be the death of me.
The truth is I am married, not dead,
and hearing someone think I am beautiful would surely spin my head.
But I'm not. I wear glasses, freckles, and have birthed four kids.
I'm not easy to look at; even this I have admitted.
I can't even finish this one. There. This is one that is SO close to me that it's knocking my breath out trying to finish it. It's in my head, but I can't write it down. :(
Smart, logical, loving...but what I haven't been called has caused me tears.
He says I'm beautiful and I wonder why it is that he's the only one
that's ever said that; surely his mind is gone.
Why does it matter what others think of me?
This one hang up will be the death of me.
The truth is I am married, not dead,
and hearing someone think I am beautiful would surely spin my head.
But I'm not. I wear glasses, freckles, and have birthed four kids.
I'm not easy to look at; even this I have admitted.
I can't even finish this one. There. This is one that is SO close to me that it's knocking my breath out trying to finish it. It's in my head, but I can't write it down. :(
Friday, May 30, 2008
The Mighty Ducks
"Whatcha still doing here?" I asked him after work.
He was waiting in the hall and we NEVER used to lurk.
I was naive, and he was interested, and I really couldn't see
that the comments he was making to his friends were all about me.
"If only I was younger" is how most of them began.
It was just my luck; I really didn't want a younger man.
We met each morn' for coffee and talk before our tasks had begun
but it was on that day that I realized my heart had been won.
So when he stood up and waited for me I really was in shock
because he was interested in me; our eyes had finally locked.
We went to the movies and gently held hands while they skated across the screen.
I don't remember the rest because I was lost in him as against him I would lean.
We've had our ups and downs since that beautiful fall evening date,
but our hearts melt when we that story to others we relate.
That was the day one of us finally stoop up to say
I think it's time to be together, we'll fight to find a way.
He was waiting in the hall and we NEVER used to lurk.
I was naive, and he was interested, and I really couldn't see
that the comments he was making to his friends were all about me.
"If only I was younger" is how most of them began.
It was just my luck; I really didn't want a younger man.
We met each morn' for coffee and talk before our tasks had begun
but it was on that day that I realized my heart had been won.
So when he stood up and waited for me I really was in shock
because he was interested in me; our eyes had finally locked.
We went to the movies and gently held hands while they skated across the screen.
I don't remember the rest because I was lost in him as against him I would lean.
We've had our ups and downs since that beautiful fall evening date,
but our hearts melt when we that story to others we relate.
That was the day one of us finally stoop up to say
I think it's time to be together, we'll fight to find a way.
I'd Take it all away for you
I'd take all the pain away and replace it with glee
if only that was the way life could be.
Grief is a cycle with its own twists and turns
and sometimes in its hellfire we burn.
Don't allow her to control your moods;
it's so much easier to say than to do.
But she didn't deserve your goodness and light
if for your love she wasn't willing to fight.
I know that you are going to do GREAT things
and it hurts to know that about yourself less you'd think
but everyone gets a chance to hurt
so I'll sit by you 'till you feel your worth.
if only that was the way life could be.
Grief is a cycle with its own twists and turns
and sometimes in its hellfire we burn.
Don't allow her to control your moods;
it's so much easier to say than to do.
But she didn't deserve your goodness and light
if for your love she wasn't willing to fight.
I know that you are going to do GREAT things
and it hurts to know that about yourself less you'd think
but everyone gets a chance to hurt
so I'll sit by you 'till you feel your worth.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Where do I start?
She can't tell him how she feels...he doesn't deserve to know.
She knows that it will bring them both pain and will really hurt him so.
It's bottled up deep inside the fresh morning dream
left behind on the pillow in which she let out a scream.
She knows that it will bring them both pain and will really hurt him so.
It's bottled up deep inside the fresh morning dream
left behind on the pillow in which she let out a scream.
Soul to Soul
There's something about that moment when you see a person's soul;
so much goes unspoken but you know it's taken a toll.
Baring your fears, dreams, and wishes takes a lot of heart to do
but when you give it back it's even a harder thing to do.
so much goes unspoken but you know it's taken a toll.
Baring your fears, dreams, and wishes takes a lot of heart to do
but when you give it back it's even a harder thing to do.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
La Pendejita
Ok. I want to explain something about me. My nicknames growing up varied. But you know what? I want to own one of them...La Pendejita. But now that I am married with kids of my own...it's La Pendeja. I am the most loyal friend you could ask for; but in return, I want the same. So...for Clarie:
Tu Pendejita :)
"Pendeja" was my nickname and I earned it to be sure -
their teasing and their loving I happily endured.
My nickname growing up was the little bitch
and sometimes I just can't help it...I gotta scratch that itch.
I am a bitch because I demand your solemn attention;
if you can't give it to me then state your intentions.
I don't play second fiddle to anyone; I don't have time for games.
I demand only the best; after all, Bitch is my name.
But what do you get in return? What can I offer you?
A heart of gold, an ear to listen, and quite often a tear or two.
You see, I demand only the best but in exchange I give you my soul
so in the end we both get something; a friendship that is whole.
Tu Pendejita :)
"Pendeja" was my nickname and I earned it to be sure -
their teasing and their loving I happily endured.
My nickname growing up was the little bitch
and sometimes I just can't help it...I gotta scratch that itch.
I am a bitch because I demand your solemn attention;
if you can't give it to me then state your intentions.
I don't play second fiddle to anyone; I don't have time for games.
I demand only the best; after all, Bitch is my name.
But what do you get in return? What can I offer you?
A heart of gold, an ear to listen, and quite often a tear or two.
You see, I demand only the best but in exchange I give you my soul
so in the end we both get something; a friendship that is whole.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Some Gave All
Three simple words repeated again and again in song;
to some it means that for him or her their family will forever long.
They didn't have to do it -- sign on the dotted line
and give their time and effort to a land of God's design.
But sign they did and on His day each gave up their life
so you and I could live so free and take each day in stride.
So on this day I ask of you to do one thing for them:
stop at three o'clock and say thanks for their selfless ticket to Heaven.
to some it means that for him or her their family will forever long.
They didn't have to do it -- sign on the dotted line
and give their time and effort to a land of God's design.
But sign they did and on His day each gave up their life
so you and I could live so free and take each day in stride.
So on this day I ask of you to do one thing for them:
stop at three o'clock and say thanks for their selfless ticket to Heaven.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Laundry :P
They're everywhere I turn; on the floor and under the beds
little socks get lost in every nook; it's them I really dread.
They fall through the cracks and under the door
It's matching them up I really abhor!
They are all white and you'd think it'd be easy
but each has their match; the girls are so picky.
So if you ever hear of my death by torture you'll know
It was because of the socks I really hate so.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! This one made me giggle as I thought about it.
little socks get lost in every nook; it's them I really dread.
They fall through the cracks and under the door
It's matching them up I really abhor!
They are all white and you'd think it'd be easy
but each has their match; the girls are so picky.
So if you ever hear of my death by torture you'll know
It was because of the socks I really hate so.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! This one made me giggle as I thought about it.
To My Sisters
My sisters chose to not come to my son's memorial service. One still hasn't called me...the other was full of hurtful excuses. This is how I feel, and although another month has passed, my feelings have not changed.
To my sisters
I wanted to address you two the best way I knew how.
But I don’t know much of anything since he left us (a month…) Wow!
Each of us carries the burden of having chosen to end a life.
What you don’t know is that Joe and I made that decision twice.
So when the ultrasound showed our son was no longer alive
Your sister and her husband had a piece of them die.
The depth of emotions that we have gone through
To this world are certainly not new;
But to us it’s raw and we really needed a family to come home to.
Instead, we found that the death of our son was a Scussel taboo.
(John and Trish called while their tragedy they went through).
I don’t know why you wouldn’t bother coming to my side.
But truthfully, I no longer care;
You made your decisions that day, and in those beds you’ll lie.
I don’t have the energy to try and rectify.
You see, dear sisters, in the last three years, I have had to change so much.
Helping Mom was one of the blessings God bestowed to me;
Being Marshall’s mother was the biggest there could be.
You chose to see Mom but denied praying for my son…
The damage is done.
You have both forgotten that as much as Mom loved us,
She loved our kids threefold;
So she’d feel the pain of losing Marshall as deep as my family does.
I don’t know if I’ll ever come around but the fact is I have three girls
Who frankly think their aunts hung the stars in the world.
They really think their cousins are the reason God made family;
I can’t deny them the people with whom they really want to be.
But be forewarned: They speak of him whom you choose to ignore
And their love for him you will feel the moment you walk through the door.
Let Dad know if and when my children you can see,
So I can arrange for someplace for Marshall and I to be.
To my sisters
I wanted to address you two the best way I knew how.
But I don’t know much of anything since he left us (a month…) Wow!
Each of us carries the burden of having chosen to end a life.
What you don’t know is that Joe and I made that decision twice.
So when the ultrasound showed our son was no longer alive
Your sister and her husband had a piece of them die.
The depth of emotions that we have gone through
To this world are certainly not new;
But to us it’s raw and we really needed a family to come home to.
Instead, we found that the death of our son was a Scussel taboo.
(John and Trish called while their tragedy they went through).
I don’t know why you wouldn’t bother coming to my side.
But truthfully, I no longer care;
You made your decisions that day, and in those beds you’ll lie.
I don’t have the energy to try and rectify.
You see, dear sisters, in the last three years, I have had to change so much.
Helping Mom was one of the blessings God bestowed to me;
Being Marshall’s mother was the biggest there could be.
You chose to see Mom but denied praying for my son…
The damage is done.
You have both forgotten that as much as Mom loved us,
She loved our kids threefold;
So she’d feel the pain of losing Marshall as deep as my family does.
I don’t know if I’ll ever come around but the fact is I have three girls
Who frankly think their aunts hung the stars in the world.
They really think their cousins are the reason God made family;
I can’t deny them the people with whom they really want to be.
But be forewarned: They speak of him whom you choose to ignore
And their love for him you will feel the moment you walk through the door.
Let Dad know if and when my children you can see,
So I can arrange for someplace for Marshall and I to be.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Shh...it's a secret.
We meet in secret rendevouz all over the place.
The only way we know each other is the sadness in each other's face.
We are the mothers that suffer still with who most have forgotten:
our tiny little babies with fingers and toes that each numbered 10.
Today we had a meeting in an anonymous flea market booth.
I paused to see the baby boy rattle and little pillow for his first lost tooth.
A tear welled up and I gasped to breathe and to my side she drew.
She simply said "I know what you have been through".
This is one example of the small chance meetings
when we stand with each other and make sure we each keep on believing
that our children aren't gone; they simply went home
and that in our grief, tears, anger, and sadness we do not stand alone.
Each meeting makes me smile then brings me right back down again
because another mother knows the pain that I live daily in.
I'm not alone in holding his urn and wishing he was here.
I'm not alone in wishing it was my baby I was holding near.
The only way we know each other is the sadness in each other's face.
We are the mothers that suffer still with who most have forgotten:
our tiny little babies with fingers and toes that each numbered 10.
Today we had a meeting in an anonymous flea market booth.
I paused to see the baby boy rattle and little pillow for his first lost tooth.
A tear welled up and I gasped to breathe and to my side she drew.
She simply said "I know what you have been through".
This is one example of the small chance meetings
when we stand with each other and make sure we each keep on believing
that our children aren't gone; they simply went home
and that in our grief, tears, anger, and sadness we do not stand alone.
Each meeting makes me smile then brings me right back down again
because another mother knows the pain that I live daily in.
I'm not alone in holding his urn and wishing he was here.
I'm not alone in wishing it was my baby I was holding near.
You've Got it Again, huh?
LOL! Ok...hopefully this will tell of one of three experiences I had today I want to record. This is cute, funny, and typical of me!
We strolled into the flea market just trying to blend in.
Reagan was running and I was chasing - our typical Saturday thing.
I heard the beat as I walked in and my ears remembered the tune
and flashes of memories began to race across -- of dances under the moon.
I ignored it and we walked looking at everyone's goods and wares.
Lots of cheap stuff and every now and then a treasure here and there.
But my mind's eye kept going back to the little store when we walked in.
I knew I had to return -- he smiled as I walked in.
"It's been a while" he said as I walked into his little store.
I was shocked that he remembered I'd been in there before.
"I'll always remember you" he grinned and told he'll never forget
I'm the gringa with a tear in my eye and a pep in my step.
I last walked in there almost three years ago
looking for that song that made her laugh and dance around the floor.
Tears welled up as he said they didn't carry that song anymore.
I told him about Mom and he paused and took a breath.
"Look what I have" he said to me.
He walked behind the counter, pushed a button, and then it hit me...
he not only had the song; he had the whole CD
and kept it knowing one day I'd be back --- he waited for me!!
Reagan was dancing and entertaining the men
so he took my hand and gave me a spin.
"Never forget life is full of angels and you have certainly been one of mine"
He told me he'd lost his wife days before my last request he'd denied.
We spun around the floor --
well, he spun and I stumbled
as I grinned and the men clapped for their friend and his happy little Gringa.
I know...weird. Two weeks in a row of running into someone and dancing...but maybe it's Mom? I don't know. But the gentleman made my day, and I walked out with the CD, and a little shirt for Reagan. Now, what will Joe say when he walks in to see her shirt that says "It's better in Puerto Rico"? LOL
We strolled into the flea market just trying to blend in.
Reagan was running and I was chasing - our typical Saturday thing.
I heard the beat as I walked in and my ears remembered the tune
and flashes of memories began to race across -- of dances under the moon.
I ignored it and we walked looking at everyone's goods and wares.
Lots of cheap stuff and every now and then a treasure here and there.
But my mind's eye kept going back to the little store when we walked in.
I knew I had to return -- he smiled as I walked in.
"It's been a while" he said as I walked into his little store.
I was shocked that he remembered I'd been in there before.
"I'll always remember you" he grinned and told he'll never forget
I'm the gringa with a tear in my eye and a pep in my step.
I last walked in there almost three years ago
looking for that song that made her laugh and dance around the floor.
Tears welled up as he said they didn't carry that song anymore.
I told him about Mom and he paused and took a breath.
"Look what I have" he said to me.
He walked behind the counter, pushed a button, and then it hit me...
he not only had the song; he had the whole CD
and kept it knowing one day I'd be back --- he waited for me!!
Reagan was dancing and entertaining the men
so he took my hand and gave me a spin.
"Never forget life is full of angels and you have certainly been one of mine"
He told me he'd lost his wife days before my last request he'd denied.
We spun around the floor --
well, he spun and I stumbled
as I grinned and the men clapped for their friend and his happy little Gringa.
I know...weird. Two weeks in a row of running into someone and dancing...but maybe it's Mom? I don't know. But the gentleman made my day, and I walked out with the CD, and a little shirt for Reagan. Now, what will Joe say when he walks in to see her shirt that says "It's better in Puerto Rico"? LOL
Intimate with My Friends
Death has been a part of my life for a few years now. I have learned that death is one of society's last taboos. We all do it; but we don't talk about it. Just weird. I'd like to take you all back to that day in 2005 when we lost Mom.
August 10, 2005. Perhaps to you it was just another day,
but for us our life was going to change in every possible way.
I suppose the best way to start is at the beginning instead of the end
so you can understand why this poem's only rattled around my head.
Words seem so inadequate to describe the process we all went through
as we watched her die -- it was over, the answers she finally knew.
Mom's cancer was my nightmare, it woke me up at night
years before she had it; I just knew the bug would bite.
The diagnosis came in July 2003; it'd be really hard to beat.
She'd give it a try but the end she knew it'd finally be.
First they gave her surgery and removed some teeth, half her tongue and part of her jaw.
You should have seen what I saw; the twinkle was actually gone.
She chose darker glasses so no one could see the pain she was going through
all in an effort to make us feel better about the end as near it drew.
I'll never forget the day I walked into the hospice center.
The nurse looked sad; my father graven. The tunnel she'd finally enter.
I called the other two; their absence had to be the reason she hung on --
you should have seen the effort it took to breathe...every single breath was a battle to be won.
They finally came in and around her we gathered
to sing her favorite hymns and over her talk to God in solemn prayer.
"Amazing Grace" "Rock of Ages" and "In the Garden" were sung
as we prayed the doxology for His countenance on her to shine upon.
Her fingertips and little toes were gray
It was just so sad to see how her red fingertips glowed against the blackness of death.
It was 9:55, the day had just begun
but her battle was won.
She turned her beautiful head and looked right at Dad as that final breath she drew
a sign and symbol of the years of joy and strife they'd been through.
She was there; it wasn't cancer...we'd seen their intimacy.
We were there as John and Teresa said "In heaven together we'd be".
My Mom had died...OH MY GOD! My baby gave a flip
The last three years had been something of a really bad acid trip.
G-tube feedings, then a J tube; clearing out her throat.
Medicine that'd knock over a city did nothing to touch her tremendous pain
but I'd do anything to do all of that all over again.
We stepped out of the room as the nurses fixed that beautiful lady;
and prepared her so we could kiss her one last time.
The door was opened and we stepped in and in the bed she laid.
With sunflowers in her hand as she prepared for her last goodbye.
Her head was warm and clammy; her hands as cold as they ever were.
I looked at Dad with pity as his heart fell apart.
He thanked her for his children and all their 35 years. "Goodbye my little friend"
were the last words he spoke to her.
Looking back I see the gift she left for me; I was there as she died
and was able to thank her for my life.
But unless you've seen your mother die don't tell me how to be
because I knew the end would come in July 2003.
August 10, 2005. Perhaps to you it was just another day,
but for us our life was going to change in every possible way.
I suppose the best way to start is at the beginning instead of the end
so you can understand why this poem's only rattled around my head.
Words seem so inadequate to describe the process we all went through
as we watched her die -- it was over, the answers she finally knew.
Mom's cancer was my nightmare, it woke me up at night
years before she had it; I just knew the bug would bite.
The diagnosis came in July 2003; it'd be really hard to beat.
She'd give it a try but the end she knew it'd finally be.
First they gave her surgery and removed some teeth, half her tongue and part of her jaw.
You should have seen what I saw; the twinkle was actually gone.
She chose darker glasses so no one could see the pain she was going through
all in an effort to make us feel better about the end as near it drew.
I'll never forget the day I walked into the hospice center.
The nurse looked sad; my father graven. The tunnel she'd finally enter.
I called the other two; their absence had to be the reason she hung on --
you should have seen the effort it took to breathe...every single breath was a battle to be won.
They finally came in and around her we gathered
to sing her favorite hymns and over her talk to God in solemn prayer.
"Amazing Grace" "Rock of Ages" and "In the Garden" were sung
as we prayed the doxology for His countenance on her to shine upon.
Her fingertips and little toes were gray
It was just so sad to see how her red fingertips glowed against the blackness of death.
It was 9:55, the day had just begun
but her battle was won.
She turned her beautiful head and looked right at Dad as that final breath she drew
a sign and symbol of the years of joy and strife they'd been through.
She was there; it wasn't cancer...we'd seen their intimacy.
We were there as John and Teresa said "In heaven together we'd be".
My Mom had died...OH MY GOD! My baby gave a flip
The last three years had been something of a really bad acid trip.
G-tube feedings, then a J tube; clearing out her throat.
Medicine that'd knock over a city did nothing to touch her tremendous pain
but I'd do anything to do all of that all over again.
We stepped out of the room as the nurses fixed that beautiful lady;
and prepared her so we could kiss her one last time.
The door was opened and we stepped in and in the bed she laid.
With sunflowers in her hand as she prepared for her last goodbye.
Her head was warm and clammy; her hands as cold as they ever were.
I looked at Dad with pity as his heart fell apart.
He thanked her for his children and all their 35 years. "Goodbye my little friend"
were the last words he spoke to her.
Looking back I see the gift she left for me; I was there as she died
and was able to thank her for my life.
But unless you've seen your mother die don't tell me how to be
because I knew the end would come in July 2003.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Signs from Above
I have NO idea where this one came from, except that Mom's address book is on the table, and this happened today. I wanted to reconnect, and...yep...another poem :P I am going to bed now. Hubby's not home and I have some dreams to dream.
Curvy roads...music...beach...sand...dancing....
Title: She Brought You to Me
Simple everyday tasks are not so simple when your heart is broken;
every scratch can be that golden token.
The key to memories you won't relive and days from long ago
are written down on papers which you can't let go.
I found your name in an old address book...
there your names sat in her writing
and it was like a flame in my heart was igniting!
She's leading me to you.
Mom never understood why I hated myself as I do;
and struggled to see me go through the hell that I went through.
She always had fond memories of your mom and your dad
she told me once you'd be the best friend I ever had.
So when we got back in touch I looked for that book...
it's tatttered and torn and in the back of the drawer where I'd never look
except that she dropped hints and signs
that you are supposed to be in my life.
Curvy roads...music...beach...sand...dancing....
Title: She Brought You to Me
Simple everyday tasks are not so simple when your heart is broken;
every scratch can be that golden token.
The key to memories you won't relive and days from long ago
are written down on papers which you can't let go.
I found your name in an old address book...
there your names sat in her writing
and it was like a flame in my heart was igniting!
She's leading me to you.
Mom never understood why I hated myself as I do;
and struggled to see me go through the hell that I went through.
She always had fond memories of your mom and your dad
she told me once you'd be the best friend I ever had.
So when we got back in touch I looked for that book...
it's tatttered and torn and in the back of the drawer where I'd never look
except that she dropped hints and signs
that you are supposed to be in my life.
The Island Calls
I grew up in Puerto Rico. The passion, the heat..it's consuming...and I had to pen it. I LOVE this poem, and there's another one in my head dying to come out. ONE more dream about Ricky Martin's hips ought to do it. HOLY HELL!! LOL
The Island is Calling.
Every few years it comes to a boil
And from my life I seemingly recoil.
It starts with a hum; grows into a song.
Then for my island life I start to long.
Dogs running wild, a run down the street, old men playing dominoes
These are memories that from my fingertips flow.
The sites, the smells, they are all inside
And I have had to learn to just push them all aside.
Then the trumpet blasts, the bass falls, I hear “El Africano”
And I start to remember those nights of dancing with gentlemen
On the porch of the Casa Grande; their names I still don’t know
But they touched my soul and left a yearning for people and times long ago.
Touring through forts, driving through mountains, playing in pools
If I told you that’s how I grew up you’d call me a fool
For hating it then; now about it I obsess
Because my life here sometimes seems like so much less.
At the time I hated it; I wasn’t pretty or cute
But I was smart; Not what most want for their youth!
Soon the red, white, and blue flew through my blood
But Dad made us leave; it wasn’t safe in the neighborhood.
I left behind people who didn’t care that I was smart…
We all had our talents – whether academics or art;
I came to a place where I was square and the hole was round
No one really wanted me around.
(I spoke Spanish and cared less about material things
Heaven forbid I said something to make them think.)
I stopped listening to the music; stopped trying to speak the language
Because of me they were taking advantage.
I wanted to fit in; I ditched what I knew
And just wanted to be part of the crew.
(Who really cared if I had a Swatch? Were my jeans Guess?
I used to care less!)
But “Blast” Goes the trumpet, the beat speeds up
And soon I can’t stop; it’s in my blood.
I’m trying to teach my kids about this part of me
That really needs a chance to live and breathe and be.
So, you see, dear friend, I am struggling to show
That pain isn’t the only feeling I can know.
He’s made me realize that I part of me died
And maybe it’d be better if the old Heather tried to revive.
I’ll take my family to see the places that helped make me
Be the person they need me to be.
Will they understand why I crave the air, the sounds, coquis?
I don’t know…we’ll wait and see.
But return I must
It’s a feeling worse than lust.
It’s consuming me like a fire consumes a tree
The island is calling; let me return is my only plea
Raw pain brings inspiration
“Congratulations! It’s a girl!” or maybe even “Boy!”
These are the words you want to hear that fill your heart with joy.
Instead we heard the words no parent ever wants to hear – “I’m so sorry”
fell from her lips; she looked so very ashen.
This just can’t be! It’s NOT supposed to happen!
March 27th is the day it was all confirmed…
We saw him on the screen and of his passing we learned.
A tiny little head; gentle little hands –
So very still and perfect, as if lulled to a nap.
It could take several hours, or maybe even days,
But soon in your hands he’ll lay.
Don’t make me go! I wanted to scream!
Throw away the gown! It belongs to someone else…They don’t belong to me!!!
I crawled into the bed, feeling like a murderer
While everyone treated me like a poor grieving mother.
“It’s just nature” or “It’s God’s way”
What the hell did you say?
Did God really make a mistake?
Is that what you are trying to say?
You kind of laugh and cry…what else are you to do?
Alone in a room with your husband who is grieving too.
We watched some movies and fell asleep and had a cry or two, and then we saw the clock; it was 5:02.
I felt the urge to push, but Oh My God!
If I do,The end will come and I am not ready for this to be through.
I pushed and out he slid; the perfect angel we were waiting for.
She picked him up and said “We’ll clean him up for you”.
We waited in stunned silence; our hearts were clearly torn.
In she walked with a blanket folded into two,
And wrapped up inside, was the perfect little guy.
His eyes were open, his lips slightly parted as if to say goodbye
I wanted to die! What else could I do?
His hands were tiny; they wouldn’t cover your nail!
He weighed just ounces but in our hearts he will always prevail.
I miss my son; he belongs to Him and always did. I know.
But what did I do to let him go?
I close my eyes and blink away the tears some wish I didn’t shed,
And slap on a smile to make them all happy instead.
But I hurt and I feel like I’m in the way;
I pray for the end of each and every day.
I take my meds so I don’t feel the pain that breaks my heart
Because a month ago with my son I had to part.
These are the words you want to hear that fill your heart with joy.
Instead we heard the words no parent ever wants to hear – “I’m so sorry”
fell from her lips; she looked so very ashen.
This just can’t be! It’s NOT supposed to happen!
March 27th is the day it was all confirmed…
We saw him on the screen and of his passing we learned.
A tiny little head; gentle little hands –
So very still and perfect, as if lulled to a nap.
It could take several hours, or maybe even days,
But soon in your hands he’ll lay.
Don’t make me go! I wanted to scream!
Throw away the gown! It belongs to someone else…They don’t belong to me!!!
I crawled into the bed, feeling like a murderer
While everyone treated me like a poor grieving mother.
“It’s just nature” or “It’s God’s way”
What the hell did you say?
Did God really make a mistake?
Is that what you are trying to say?
You kind of laugh and cry…what else are you to do?
Alone in a room with your husband who is grieving too.
We watched some movies and fell asleep and had a cry or two, and then we saw the clock; it was 5:02.
I felt the urge to push, but Oh My God!
If I do,The end will come and I am not ready for this to be through.
I pushed and out he slid; the perfect angel we were waiting for.
She picked him up and said “We’ll clean him up for you”.
We waited in stunned silence; our hearts were clearly torn.
In she walked with a blanket folded into two,
And wrapped up inside, was the perfect little guy.
His eyes were open, his lips slightly parted as if to say goodbye
I wanted to die! What else could I do?
His hands were tiny; they wouldn’t cover your nail!
He weighed just ounces but in our hearts he will always prevail.
I miss my son; he belongs to Him and always did. I know.
But what did I do to let him go?
I close my eyes and blink away the tears some wish I didn’t shed,
And slap on a smile to make them all happy instead.
But I hurt and I feel like I’m in the way;
I pray for the end of each and every day.
I take my meds so I don’t feel the pain that breaks my heart
Because a month ago with my son I had to part.
Where to start?
Well, I guess I should just dive right in.
But Marshall wasn't meant for this world, too beautiful was he.
So, an empty womb and a full heart are the gifts he left to me,
and all I could give him was my love, some kisses, and affection.
His urn sits on a shelf; his ashes proudly displayed.
His sisters still want to buy him clothes and shoes so he can walk;
what they don't understand is that he has wings instead of feet.
I don't know how to help them; I am as helpless as a lamb,
but my shepherd will guide me through it if by his side I stand.
My son's eyes were open; it was His face he saw first.
He must have marvelled when he heard his name called by the First.
I have to accept it; my heart struggles with this thought,
that my body just wasn't good enough for his gentle little heart.
But Marshall wasn't meant for this world, too beautiful was he.
So, an empty womb and a full heart are the gifts he left to me,
and all I could give him was my love, some kisses, and affection.
His urn sits on a shelf; his ashes proudly displayed.
His sisters still want to buy him clothes and shoes so he can walk;
what they don't understand is that he has wings instead of feet.
I don't know how to help them; I am as helpless as a lamb,
but my shepherd will guide me through it if by his side I stand.
My son's eyes were open; it was His face he saw first.
He must have marvelled when he heard his name called by the First.
I have to accept it; my heart struggles with this thought,
that my body just wasn't good enough for his gentle little heart.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Here's to writing!
I've never done anything like this, but it seems only appropriate that I start now.
This blog is mine...wow! Ok...let me give you all an intro.
I have recently discovered that I have a talent...poetry! Well, it's a gift I got from Mom. For those that knew me when, Mom died almost three years ago from cancer. I lost my Mom and my best friend :( I was pregnant with my third child at the time, so my life really changed after that.
Then, this year, my body failed. I delivered our fourth child, our surprise...our first son. But he was 20 weeks too early, and was born an angel. Marshall Jacob will forever be my reminder that God has His ways.
I have recently come back in touch with friends I grew up with. I have blocked out a lot of that time period because it wasn't accessible to me, and it really hurt to live back in Florida. Now, it's coming back to me...just at a time when I thought I was drowning.
Anyway, I am going to be posting some of the poems I have written here...in hopes that one day, I'll be successful in discovering Heather.
This blog is mine...wow! Ok...let me give you all an intro.
I have recently discovered that I have a talent...poetry! Well, it's a gift I got from Mom. For those that knew me when, Mom died almost three years ago from cancer. I lost my Mom and my best friend :( I was pregnant with my third child at the time, so my life really changed after that.
Then, this year, my body failed. I delivered our fourth child, our surprise...our first son. But he was 20 weeks too early, and was born an angel. Marshall Jacob will forever be my reminder that God has His ways.
I have recently come back in touch with friends I grew up with. I have blocked out a lot of that time period because it wasn't accessible to me, and it really hurt to live back in Florida. Now, it's coming back to me...just at a time when I thought I was drowning.
Anyway, I am going to be posting some of the poems I have written here...in hopes that one day, I'll be successful in discovering Heather.
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