A poem I wrote in 2010. (and yes, it is a true story)
In Passing
I passed by your bed
and wondered your story,
Tattoos and T-shirt
completely out of place
amongst the tubes and wires.
With arms so thin and eyes so tired,
watching the TV without seeing,
seeing me without watching
every time I passed through.
Watching you waiting…
I knew. Did you?
Did she know too?
I watched her pass through, with
rucksack and thermos, packets of snacks.
All the signs of the long term
traveller of wards and waiting rooms.
Holding herself together with
the busy brightness of a mother's love.
Others passed by too.
I saw them take turns
to hold your hand as you waited, and passed them
as they waited, in crooked huddles
over half cups of coffee.
Women talking; a man hiding
tears in a corner, as I passed through.
And I knew they knew too.
Though none of us spoke
in passing, in waiting.
Connected in such disconnection.
Brief greetings and smiles
in hallways, in passing,
and then they were gone.
Empty chairs.
Empty bed.
I passed by your bed
and wondered your story,
and wished you
safe journeys
in passing.
copyright the author Michelle Y Frost
and wondered your story,
Tattoos and T-shirt
completely out of place
amongst the tubes and wires.
With arms so thin and eyes so tired,
watching the TV without seeing,
seeing me without watching
every time I passed through.
Watching you waiting…
I knew. Did you?
Did she know too?
I watched her pass through, with
rucksack and thermos, packets of snacks.
All the signs of the long term
traveller of wards and waiting rooms.
Holding herself together with
the busy brightness of a mother's love.
Others passed by too.
I saw them take turns
to hold your hand as you waited, and passed them
as they waited, in crooked huddles
over half cups of coffee.
Women talking; a man hiding
tears in a corner, as I passed through.
And I knew they knew too.
Though none of us spoke
in passing, in waiting.
Connected in such disconnection.
Brief greetings and smiles
in hallways, in passing,
and then they were gone.
Empty chairs.
Empty bed.
I passed by your bed
and wondered your story,
and wished you
safe journeys
in passing.
copyright the author Michelle Y Frost
This poignant poem made me have a flash back to the day before my FIL passed away. MIL and I came to visit and I just knew that he was THAT close to the other side. There were even a few seconds when I thought that he'd be gone already. Heartbreaking to see because he could no longer eat or drink anything. But this memory overlaps with the memories that were told after his funeral...it's not common in Indonesia to do something like this, you know, so it's very memorable for me. :-)
ReplyDeleteLovely. Touching. So Well Done... -xo
ReplyDeleteAmel
ReplyDeleteThere can be beauty in the saddest moments of life and death. One of the strange things you discover as you go through life. xx
Hi Joanne
Thank you for taking the time to reply.
xo
You're right about beauty. :-) I think I felt that he was so close because I had seen how my grandma was slowly leaving us (she was cared for in the same house we lived in until the day she died).
ReplyDeleteShe was bedridden for a few months (my memory is hazy) and we did have a nurse helping out because both my parents worked though my mom worked part-time. In the beginning grandma said that the road was dark (she started seeing her dead relatives by then).
My mom told her to call Jesus...I think a few days before her actual death, she said that she could see the light because the road wasn't dark anymore. My mom then said, "Go to the light. No need to worry about us kids and grandkids. We'll be just fine." :-)
I've always loved this story. :-)
Wow... Amel. That is such a beautiful story about what your mom said. It touched me.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing. xx