a newness of person

(there is this sense that i am moving forward alone
into a newness of person
somewhat unaccompanied; despite great friends & family
my truest companion
completely unseen)

been down so long..

i'm so blue. i feel like a mark rothko painting. been down so long - not quite sure how to get up. what is it going to take to get me out of this funk? my world can't possibly be as bad as i feel it is.

where do i even start?

the gym? some natural endorphins might be just what i need. if i can only drag myself there.. alas, tomorrow is a new day.

a life of constant subtraction

it feels as if there is always, always a subtraction.

always this loss, this reduction - a friend with whom i have reached an impasse, the boy that is no longer, the job that has become work, the store that has shut its doors, the food that no longer gives such pleasure, the life that fails to satisfy.

the love that has deflated.

where is the addition? where is that new bliss? that extra thing that augments the human experience?

i am so exhausted of losing the things that bring me joy and being unable to replace them.

turning your back

it's tempting to be polite. to play nice. to be concerned. maybe even understanding. especially to people who seem to have always been around. but just because they've been around doesn't mean they've been there.

at first, it's about taking space. giving each other time to 'do you'. but the space isn't far enough. the time isn't long enough.

it's not about mood as much as it is about utility.

we grow. and that doesn't mean that we necessarily outgrow people.
(it really isn't a race)

but time grants perspective. and the ability to see things, people and places in a different light. a light, that perhaps, you weren't courageous enough to turn on earlier.

sometimes you have to say goodbye.

so happy with nothing

at a recent dinner, a girlfriend commented that 'we have become so happy with nothing'. and it stayed with me. perhaps the way she said it made it resonate so. with such loathing. with such disappointment. with complete and utter disgust. who are the 'we'? women? blacks? americans? me.

how do you get yourself moving after being satisfied with nothing for so long?
what makes you want more?

crisis is an opportunity

it surprises me,
those who are here
checking on me
praying for me
holding my hand
during this misery
and those who have
disappeared - entirely.

i get it though.

i am almost a stranger
even to myself.
it seems part of me is lost.
i doubt she will ever come back again.

change isn't always a disaster

por ejemplo

a friend that i talked to
every month or so
in a casual kind of way
has become this rock
for me.

she has just asserted herself
in my life
in this pleasant and deeply concerned
way

i knew we were friends
but i didn't think we
could be friends
in the
i-know-you-need-me
and-don't-know-how-to-ask
but-that's-ok-because-you
don't-have-to
kind of way

crisis
is an opportunity
to really love
someone

and you either
take it
or you don't

the bandaged heart

the slightest thing can move me
one way or the other.

life has been divided
into before and after.

i lived with my grandmother
almost my entire life
she was a second mother.

how does one let that go?

she was a friend
a dear friend
and now we're separated

i miss her wink
the way she called my name
how she would tilt her head
and laugh - eyes closed

and i am so
fucking pissed
that she is not here
for me to love
anymore

but i am trying
very hard
to get over it.

my grandmother has died.

Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion
Dylan Thomas

i feel she has been ripped from my breast.
snatched so quickly.

yet i know she was suffering.
i know this is a blessing.

but i am only human
and i can't understand that.

i can't believe
that she belongs
where i am not.

does god really expect for me to get that?

it will be one week tomorrow.

a week ago tonight was the last time i saw her breathing.
she was sleeping so heavily, not to be roused, but breathing.

i left work and raced to the house.
the undertaker was in the kitchen,

in her bed, she appeared to be sleeping.
i didn't want them to take her.
i didn't believe she was dead.
i didn't believe it.

i watched them wheel her
in a bag
down the deck.

it is that image that
haunts me now.

the bag was only zipped to her neck.
it was brown.

all the flowers have wilted

all the flowers have wilted
and i don't know when the sun will come again.

my grandmother is dying.

she went to the hospital in the middle of the week.
she was there for three days.
there's nothing that can be done.
she came home on friday.

all we can do is make her comfortable.

she needs care almost around the clock.

i spent the weekend at my mother's trying to help.
feeling so horribly inadequate.

when i first saw her she looked like a corpse.
a morphine induced sleep.
her body so still. so pale. i didn't think she was breathing.

cancer has just shrunk her.
she is barely clinging to 100lbs.
her lips, her eyes, everything seems so small.

a storm in my heart.

i see myself disappearing.

i spent the entire day in bed.
half-crying and half-sleeping.

i haven't eaten.
i haven't been outdoors.

i'm not hungry. i'm not sleepy.
i'm not even tired.

my eyes are just leaking.

it seems everyday - i get closer to losing all that is dear to me.
it all seems to be disappearing.

it is my own passion that will be my very undoing.
i want to be indifferent.

death is here.
and he won't let me go.

and my greatest failure
is that i cannot make myself
care less.

to seek God unencumbered

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and melt into the sun? And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

my uncle has died.

i put this fact aside. so that i could survive the day. it meant nothing to me. i didn't feel it. it didn't connect.

until it did.

i was at my desk, analyzing a client portfolio. 12 asian currencies.
and i felt it - like an icicle through my chest.
a panic.

i wanted my sister. i needed to see her.
i wanted the dearest of my life close to me.
i thought of my parents, my grandparents.
my lovers, my friends..

and how all of it is so
tentative.

my silly puppy. the grass so green.
a warm & sunny day with a slight breeze.
all of my favorite things.

is heaven really better than what i've got
right this very minute?

for everyone i've ever loved
that has crossed that divide
i sure hope so.

as fucked as my life is -
and trust, it is a very fucked up thing.

i'm grateful for it's beauty
it's magic
it's wonders

and i'm sad that my uncle
doesn't have those things anymore.

heaven is probably much simpler than that.

it's just God
and nothing else.

the presence of God
and the absence of everything else.

that must be it.

News from Hospice

The moment that I have been fighting all week has arrived. The sun is peeking through my blinds, tapping me to wakefulness and I should be off to work to finish reports before interviewing applicants for my undergraduate university. But no, I am immobilized by the fear of death, it's certainty, and I erupt into tears. I have a day, commitments, promises to be kept with grace and enthusiasm - but how? Where does that come from?

My grandmother who has been sick most of her life was diagnosed with cancer five years ago to the season. My beautiful, beautiful, grandmother, her body riddled with tumors, the very act of breathing painful. Sometimes she greets me at the door, shuffling around the kitchen in pink socks and slippers, oatmeal cookies in the oven, a freshly baked cake on the table. Other days, the house is motionless, she is in bed cozied up with her oxygen, death waiting silently in the darkness.

My mother's parents moved in with her shortly after her divorce and have lived with her ever since. Until I left for college, we all lived together. I go back home almost every weekend.

Hospice has been coming for a while now. This week, the nurse came and then called for backup. Two more officious women came and spoke to my grandmother about wrapping things up. Told my mother, "You do realize she may not rally again." Like she's the stock market. The thing is no matter what they say it's off color. There is no nice way to tell someone that death is gaining on the person they love.

I didn't want to tell my sister this because I didn't want to upset her. Each of us are barely clinging to sanity. The thing is, we already know this, it's not breaking news, we are witnessing her transition. We are consistently present. I told her anyway, because I would want to know. Of course, she put her world on pause and drove up. Last night, we talked into the wee hours of the morning outside the house in my car. It was a good chat. I think I needed it more than her.