OctPoWriMo 2014: Day 30

Copyright: mkistryn / 123RF Stock Photo

On the Day Before

On the day before the end came

There was no discernible antecedent

We knew the time was soon

That was inevitable

But there was no precursor to the event itself

Nothing to preface its coming

We believed that there was still a little time before you left

But while we went home for the night

Your wife, your son and daughter, and your only grandson, the only child of your daughter

Leaving you in the hospice center to rest

The door to the other side opened in front of your weary eyes

You walked through

Free at last from the deterioration

Of your badly compromised body

~Cie~

For my father

May 31, 1936 - November 28, 2010

Notes:

My father suffered from vascular compromise leading to stroke, congestive heart failure and vascular dementia over a period of six years. He was a college professor and he was committed to his daily workouts. In the end he became wheelchair bound, confused and frightened. 

Don't let stereotypes about body type fool you. Hypertension happens to people of all body types. My father was not obese. In fact, out of all of us in the family, I, who am a larger person, did not have hypertension onset until I was in my mid-forties, and it coincided with the raising of the dose of thyroid medication, which contributes to high blood pressure.

The most important point is, check your blood pressure at least once a week even if you're healthy, because hypertension can happen to anybody. Machines are available in any drug store and in some grocery stores. 

I'm using the "Unda Nether" or 666 Typing Monkeys account, which is an account available to all members of the team. I created it because some of the team at times feel vulnerable, even when using a pen name, due to our particular brand of mental illness. This allows another layer of anonymity. However, in the end I opted for transparency.

Your Prompt:

On the day before…..

Word prompts:

before

preface

precursor

front

antecedent

For My Father on Butterfly Releasing Day

Long gone from this place

Leaving only memories

Cobwebs in the sun

~Cie~

There was a butterfly release ceremony at Mountain View Park in Boulder today, sponsored by Family Hospice of Boulder. I purchased a butterfly in honor of my father, who died on November 28, 2010 after six years of progressive physical and mental deterioration following a devastating hemorrhagic stroke on June 4, 2004. My father would have been 78 years old this year. 

My son and I attended the service. We released the butterfly. I had intended to watch its flight path, but it was eager to go and flew right in my face, so I lost track of it almost immediately.

Following the service, we drove to Golden, where there is a memorial bench in the cemetery, honoring my father. We placed the carnation we had received on the bench.

Butterflies have a special meaning to us. When the family was gathered for Dad's memorial service at the cemetery, we hired a bagpiper to play Amazing Grace at the end of the service. He walked off into the distance as he played, representing the departure of the spirit from the living world. A butterfly landed on the bench for a moment, then flew off, following the bagpiper. I previously wrote a poem about this event here.

Dad taught me to respect all life, including the lowliest of creatures, such as insects and spiders. Thus, the photo of the cobwebs inspired me. He is gone from the world of the living, leaving only memories. I don't claim to understand what happens after death as I am not particularly religious, but I do believe that something continues after the death of the body. Spirit or soul is a good enough word for it.

~Cie~

For Dad on his 78th Birthday

Image Source

For Dad on his 78th Birthday

When his cool blue Chevy got t-boned in ‘72

He walked away without a scratch

In the summer of 2004

Four days after his birthday

He suffered a stroke

Things would never be the same

Another stroke

His body betrayed him

Worse, his mind slipped away

November 28, 2010 was his last day on Earth

~Lily~

My father loved comics, so I created this Flash 55 logo in his honor.

No, I did not draw The Flash. I just photoshopped in the words.

Shadorma: Shadow Memories

C) Jen from Blog it or Lose it!

Shadow Memories

Memories 

Of a ghost of a

Dream of a

Wish that I

So wanted to make come true

Was it just a lie?

~Lily~

This poem was created using a Mindlovemisery's Menagerie Prompt. The prompt word was Memories. A shadorma is composed of six non-rhyming lines (sestina or sextet) and the syllable pattern is 3-5-3-3-7-5.  It can have as many stanzas as you like, just as long as each stanza follows the syllable pattern mentioned above . 

I write the poem in memory of my father, who would be 78 years old today. However, it is not about him. It is about a love gone sour with someone who committed suicide a long time ago.

My father was a professor of English literature. He instilled in me a love of reading and writing. He died at the age of 74 after a long period of physical and cognitive decline. I truly think the worst thing he suffered among the many things that went wrong was the destruction of his mind. He suffered multiple strokes which eventually resulted in dementia as well as severe physical handicaps.

~L~

Butterflies are Messengers

Butterflies are Messengers

For they bring me

Memories of my childhood in New Mexico

Of our rundown house

Of blistering hot summer days

Of our huge half acre property

Of skinks and horned toads

Of bees both honey and bumble

Of fire ants

Of chickens 

Of my father

Gone three years at the end of this November

One by one his memories were stolen from him

In the years leading to his eventual demise

They flew away like butterflies in the sunlight

Leaving his mind in a fear-filled darkness

At his memorial service in May

The month he was born

A butterfly flew over his stone

Then off into the distance

I hope that at that moment he remembered

That his daughter always loved butterflies.

~Cie~

The Butterfly in the Cemetery

The Butterfly in the Cemetery

I don’t remember

If the butterfly at your memorial service

Was teal

Or monarch

It flew towards the horizon

While the bagpipes played Amazing Grace

Mom believed it was a sign from you

~Cie~

Dad

May 31 1936 - November 28 2010