Oh, bittersweet season,
leaving me twisting and turning,
as I ride the holiday emotional roller coaster.
The 4 AM awakenings, wrapped in darkness,
with the tears ready to spill.
Longing to drift back to sleep,
but not wanting to dream of those I miss.
Waking with a heavy heart as Christmas
creeps ever closer, filled with memories
of family traditions and celebrations,
gone, not to be repeated.
Yet, there are moments in the day
when I find respite from the heartache.
I step into my improv space,
where I can leave this world behind
and be someone else for a little while.
Delight replaces sorrow as I watch
my wonderful community creating
fun characters, the sound of their laughter
is a soothing balm to my soul.
Or picking up my paintbrush,
losing myself as I transform a blank page
into something that never existed before.
I’ve learned to navigate the two worlds
of loss and life, carrying those who’ve
gone before me in my heart
as I discover a new path on my own.
Category: Memories
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Bittersweet Season
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Memories of Mom’s Red Lipstick
When I look in the mirror, and uncap the lipstick,
carefully applying the bright red to my lips,
I picture my mother looking back at me.
She was not one to fuss with makeup,
but always applied her lipstick with care.
Even as she faded with age, her lips blazed.
And I, who always wore muted colored gloss if anything,
now boldly wear true red in honor of my mother,
shining my light for the world to see. -
If I Could Dog-Ear a Day
Title inspired by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
I’d mark the days when it was just the three of us,
sitting around the glass-top table in your cozy Florida kitchen.
Although one of five children,
for those times, I was your only child,
soaking up the sweetness of having you two all to myself.
The click, click, click of the cards as we shuffled the deck
for the many games of rummy we’d play.
Sharing stories of your life, often heard, but always enjoyed.
Mom, always bragging about being the
rummy champion on Center Street as a child,
was never a graceful loser but was always ready to start anew.
Dad holding onto his cards to get the most points in a play,
even if it meant losing big if one of us played the last card first.
These simple everyday moments are treasures
I hold onto when I miss you the most. -
Extraordinary Power of Everyday Moments
For Mike
Because love is about the small everyday moments that we share,
the pain of your absence was especially severe in
the early minutes, hours, days, months and years after you died.
The song you wrote that first captured my heart.
How I fit so neatly into your embrace,
especially in the mornings when we met in the kitchen for breakfast.
The way that you shaved my legs when my pregnant
belly made that task an impossibility.
Your words of encouragement when I’d try something new,
believing in me when I didn’t have faith in myself.
How we were partners in running the house,
each bringing our special talents so no one carried all the weight.
You were my companion in parenting our kids,
never shying away from dirty diapers or vomiting children.
Even wringing out the cloth diapers that had been soaking
in bleach before putting them in the wash.
Being my person to run things by, even if I knew what I wanted to do.
It was nice not to have to make every decision alone.
The way that only you could wash the laundry,
so that the clothes felt just right.
Going to concerts together.
Quiet evenings at home watching our favorite shows.
The sense of humor and inside jokes we shared.
The list goes on of these extraordinary ordinary moments
that I miss so much about you. -
Never Enough Time
Tonight, my heart aches for you,
as your absence stretches out like the universe.
Where memories of you are as numerous as the stars,
but your presence is forever out of reach.
You were my strength and font of wisdom
when I felt lost and scared.
No trip was too long to take to help me out,
my road warrior who loved to be behind the wheel.
You held me tight when I was young,
protective of your brood of children.
I still remember the tears on my cheeks
when you would leave us at camp
to return to work for the week.
How I wish I could sit by your side
just one more time and hear the love in your voice,
the joy you had recounting your many adventures.
But one more time would never be enough.
So, I trek through this world,
buoyed by the love you infused in me.
I carry you with me wherever I go,
sharing stories with people who didn’t
have the good fortune to know you.
But then there will be days like this,
when my body isn’t working right
and I’m hollowed out, that I’ll
long to hear you say, “Hey, Jen. It’s dad.
I’ll talk to you later.”
Beautiful Bittersweet Life Poems 