Death-A Poem

It is purely coincidental that my last post and this one focus on death. Actually, that's probably a lie. When someone you love dies, you will feel that loss for the rest of your life. Obviously the first few hours, days, months... will be horrible. The deepest pain you have ever felt and lived through. But it fades with time. Although you may not believe you will ever wake up and not hurt, you will. It may be years later and out of the blue, you want to cry because you ache so badly for them to be there with you. Just break down in tears in the middle of the grocery store because a little girl that looks like yours is shopping with her mom, and you think, "Why me?, and "What if...?" But the everyday sharp pain, the constant unceasing hurt, there will come a day when it won't hurt quite so much. But it never completely goes away, it just lies dormant, pushed to the back of your mind in the daily struggle to keep going. Because that's what your loved one would want you to do.

Sometimes the reminder that others have shared your pain can come from unexpected sources, like in an assignment for a research class. Today I was trying to find a qualitative research article that reported findings in a nontraditional way. I'm not ready to share with this class the story of my loss, and so I wrote my paper on another topic, but I found a poem that spoke to me.

Lapum, J. (2011). Death-a poem. Qualitative Inquiry. 17(8) 723-724.

the cognitive functioning of a brain Grinds,

to a halt—

like a bronze antique lamp with a dangling chain

gently,

pulled.

everything’s Dark.—

later you’re told

the sun’s rays were glistening, Bouncing

off the snow so bright

it was blinding

and the unmediated way your body

used to move without delay

Interrupted, violently

the habitual

becomes artificially coerced

the way a 15th-century force may try to convert the irreligious and you,

at a standstill.

dormancy,

plagues you

Forcefully

throws you,

to the ground.—

words linger,

lacerate deep

into your spirit

words you felt

—as—so—trite, insipid

because you imagined the day they would come for years

because of the diseased way your mind works

because something locks you into an incessant Waiting,

awaiting

waiting

and then,

its Presence,

brought forth, Absence,

crawls in,

the body

just goes, knowing

what to do, without

conscious neural impulses Telling

eyes what to see

tears to be fleetingly

detained in the presence

of certain people, numbers

to dial, the pine.---

box to choose

hands to shake

people to hug

smiles to fabricate

they stand in front of you speaking and You,

have no idea what they are saying, and you

don't think, of everything

you have lost.

you reserve that,

for days to come when you won't be able to draw your body out from Under

the sheets, no matter how many neural impulses are telling it to move

"get UP!--"

logic's dead.

I lie there

with a stillness that Tares

through me pulverizing everything I've know

October 10

Today is the seventh anniversary of my daughter, Ginny's, birth. Instead of waking her up with a special breakfast and a celebration, I think about the family whose child is alive because of my daughter's organ donation.

Today I also attend the funeral and mourn the passing of a good friend who died at the age of 37. Just a few years older than I am right now.

I really hate it when people tell me things like "Everything happens for a reason". I think that's one of the worst things you can tell the grieving, mostly because it's a crock of shit. Whoever said that there has to be a reason for everything was lying. Sometimes truly horrible things happen to really good people, while other people are pure evil and continue to live and spread their hate.

So please think about what you say to those who have lost a loved one or had a tragedy befall them. Instead of spouting some nonsensical words, tell them something from your heart. Share a memory of the deceased or tell them that you don't know what to say but you are thinking of them. Bring them food, or just sit and listen to them and be a friend, or put on your work boots and help them in a tangible way.

"Personally, I've never been a big believe in karma. When the distraught woman on the evening news thanks God for saving her, her family, and her home from the terrible tornado, I always wonder about the family next door who lost everything. So was God, like, really pissed of at them? The whole what-goes-around-comes-around thing is simply our way of trying to make sense of things that make no sense. Great stuff happens to bad people. Bad shit happens to good people. This is just the way it is."

-"How to teach filthy rich girls" by Zoey Dean

"Most of the time I don't believe in God, though I'm fascinated by the idea of intelligent design. Because if what we see all around us are the fruits of God's college sketch pad, what designs did this guy have that weren't worth saving? If degenerative illness, mommies who eat their young, religious wars, and homeless children all made it past the rough outline stage, wasn't it possible that we, by offering unequivocal gratitude and thanks, instead of constructive criticism, were simply helping reinforce all his worst instincts? Weren't we what AA would call his "enablers"?"

-"Nose down, eyes up" by Merrill Markoe