Chores
CHORES
This afternoon
I have to walk into town
First it’s to the dentists
To tell them she won’t
Need that appointment now
Then to the post office
To mail off the form
Removing her from the
Electoral roll
Fortunately it’s sunny and dry
It’s two weeks tomorrow
Posted on August 7, 2018, in Prose With Pretensions and tagged Death, Life, Loss, Love, Regret, Sorrow. Bookmark the permalink. 38 Comments.
Ben Naga 
There are never the right words…. Wishing you comfort and peace, Ben.
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“There are never the right words.”
I know. But I’m doing my best. Creative writing can be very therapeutic.
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Yes, I’ve found that to be true also. Your poem is masterful, Ben.
(“Never the right words” referred to my own inadequacy in responding.)
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I was teasing, Betty. I have always found humour being similarly therapeutic. 🙂
And thank you for your very kind words. I composed most of it while doing these very same “chores” and then visiting the grave site on my way back home; just a final tweak or two while typing it into WordPerfect.
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Oh, thankfully, yes! Humor! I so agree. Feeling it from the “other side” as well. Tears turn to laughter and laughter can turn to tears. How closely they’re linked!
Still, treading softly, while resonating.
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Yes, treading softly. As ever you pitch your comments perfectly, Betty.
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As do you, my friend. 🌻
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❤
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❤️
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So sorry for your loss.
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Thank you so much for your concern.
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Ben, thinking of you. Loss reflected the little things has a weight unimaginable. And words pale seeking to make sense of the senseless. Love to you.
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Love and gratitude flowing back to you (both).
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Sigh. So very sorry.
The composure needed to perform these chores, and to relate them… I would hope to have that, should the time come.
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Thank you. A form of therapy, writing. See also https://bennaga.wordpress.com/2017/09/14/the-verdict/, https://bennaga.wordpress.com/2017/05/24/twilights-last-gleaming/ and https://bennaga.wordpress.com/2018/07/08/dust/.
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Therapy, yes. It took hindsight for me to realize that about my own writing in the nineties.
While not completely transparent, your poetry shows that you know how to make the most of that resource.
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I’m not sure poetry and transparency are often comfortable bedfellows.
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True, mere storytelling not being the goal.
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I’m sorry to read of your loss, Ben. I can’t think of anything wise to offer but if it’s any comfort I have been there and time does heal, somewhat.
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I always gain comfort – among other gifts – from your beautiful posts.
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Thank you Ben, I’m glad to hear it. For me there is little more comforting than nature.
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I thought as much.
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Continually amazes me how as humans we spend so little time in learning how to deal with/sort out/ prepare for/make plans for the only one thing that we know will happen, and why, at such times, we are expected to be organised administrators and competant grown ups…
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Yes, those are certainly among the many headscratchingly odd qualities to be found in a majority of people.
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Oh my heart, Ben. I’m so sorry for your loss. I had no idea. ♡ Your poem is a masterpiece in expression.
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You are too kind, Ms. A. Thank you.
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Not sure to whom you refer, but these final separations can be agonizing. Peace. 💕
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You are quite correct. They are also grist to the mill in our personal growth.
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So sorry to read about your loss. We are on the same path. Who goes first is the intimidating question. Life goes on. Pray for the strength.
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Thank you for your kind words. They are gratefully received.
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My heart hurts for you, Ben, but as always, your writing is perfect. As Betty said, there are no words, but I hope you find comfort in time…xoxo
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Thank you, Lauren. There is always comfort to be had if we know where to find it. 🙂
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❤
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❤
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Sorry to learn of your loss. Your piece beautifully captures some of the toughness of grief – may you still find poetry in your heart!
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That’s always the best place to look, I think. 🙂 And thank you for your kind words.
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Missing in action has been painful. I do not know if you sensed my presence in a lucid dream just recently. An epic poem was laying its words onto invisible pages. At the time I felt were real. When I opened my eyes to see what I had written to you there were no pages or paper only Schroeder, one of our cats leaning into my arm. Maybe even Schrodinger’s cat. All I wanted to much to reach you. To let you know I hadn’t abandoned you. An image came with the dream. So alive. When I am able to complete I will send the words filled with love and pain for you and your loss. I feel as though M is there with you. Physically she’s left the room but she is blended with all you shared.
If I am able to capture what was in my dream – the image (if possible) and the words – I will place them on a special post for you.
I am starting to come back to a new place in my life. For a while I was in fear of not being able to hang around but some miracle has touched my life since reaching out to you. There was such power exchanged in the words & feeling in my lucid dream to you. I am titling the part of the piece ‘abandonment…’ but it is so much more. It is also the first poem I have been able to work on or writer since the beginning of May this year when illness tried to steal my life force.
Do you believe in those from the other side trying to help pull together the living in order to help them? I do. I miss you. I am sad for you. I feel your pain coming through. Now is the time for your new journey . you’ve had so many. I send you love & hope & want you to have the promise of a new world to guide the quest you are beginning. Remember you are only alone when you want to be and with others if that is your choice.
Love Always ❣ j.k
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I have things to say but WP is too public. I will e-mail in a few days, once I return from camping with a friend of 50 years vintage.!!! I asked him to do me a favour here a few years back. (Link below) He and his wife were the two official witnesses to our (Margaret and me) Buddhist wedding.
❤ ❤ ❤
P.S. So glad you're still around and feeling better. See you in the lucid Never Land.
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