Lallygag

i am not these thoughts that constantly worry, 
want to problem solve,
too concerned about
what the future holds
for my only daughter
who thrives
in the company of her tween tribes.
young, burgeoning ladies
like vibrant winter candycane amaryllis buds
who support each other, 
growing in their own individual ways,
figuring out how to
fulfill their most untamed dreams.
--
these thoughts pass through my mind. 
these thoughts are not me.
where there is so much hurt and frustration
and i am unable to help, i feel powerless. 

all i can do is listen.
i am not the one fearful
of acknowledging the (im)perfections
about family who gather for the holidays,
oblivious to each other's truths.
loving family is more. 

i stand on the sidelines unable to speak up.
shhh. know your place. 
the urge to offer saving grace embraces me.
these thoughts are not me.
i am that voice whose heart
is out there in the open.
feel that snowy wind on a brisk traipse
that suddenly brings a depth of comfort?
this, my heart, is what I am.

In loving memories

It's been a couple of months. Never expect cumulative or compounded grief to hit us, always unexpectedly. Haven't felt this kind of heavy heartedness since the beginning of the pandemic. This time, it's the season of life that envelops our day-to-day, checking in on elders, making sure that they are eating healthy, going to their scheduled medical appointments, disciplined about taking their meds and daily exercise, not overexerting themselves with house matinenance. A. and I also underestimated the impact on our 12yo, toting her up and down to Jersey to visit with sick and dying elders. We have been back and forth more in the past couple of months than we usually are in a given year. She has been overwhelmed with the most recent family news.

Since Tito Mading's death in October, our families have known three other deaths. In their loving memory, I scribe their names:
* Dennis Austria b. 04.27.69 - d. 11.09.24
* Jimmy Asuncion b. 06.1.43 - d. 11.29.24
* Olivia Salgado b. 05.24.47 - d. 12.03.24

Each one has touched my life in a specific way. Dennis is a distant cousin, disabled like my brother. His mom and my mom came to the States as nurse recruits from the Philippines and lived together in the nurses' dormitory, part of Margaret Hague Maternity Hospital in Jersey City.

Tito Jimmy was our typical Filipino tito in the neighborhood, kidding around with his friendly jabs, knowing how to just almost push your button as a teenager. The dad everyone delights in joking around with and by the time you're of age, appreciate a good drink and conversation.

And Tita Oli is one of A.'s beloved aunties more like an older sister ever present in his life since his childhood years in the Philippines, joining him for afternoon merienda. Funny enough, she and her husband were good friends with my Ninang and Ninong (godparents), all Connecticut residents. When A. and I first started dating, she did her diligent research on me. Tita Oli and Ninang chatting it up on the phone, the chaotic tsismis that ensues among Filipina older women. Deeply grateful we made the time to visit with Tita Oli twice in the past two months while she was in the hospital and at home. 

May they all continue to be loved beyond the stars. 

In loving memories

i breathe better
when i walk among the trees
where branches crisply crack
in the winter winds, where leaves flurry,
where i release my heartache.

what seems so convincingly worrisome
whips past my face
need the chill to hush my quiet grief
that swells like each timed arctic snow eater

the universe in her unassuming way
with every passing loved one
seems to scream,
this is life
love and be loved

she is my teacher 
who lulls me with her lesson,
this is the cycle of life --
may we welcome the invitation
to open our hearts 
with awe inspiring warmth

peaceful mother embraces me
invites our fretful selves 
to sit in her lap
to weep and live love

Fall whispers

 Amado Lopez
b.01.26.39 - d.10.21.24

just after noon
after mid morning minutes stretch
i reach for comfort
i stroll
under the golden, apricot, pumpkin,
and butterbeer canopies
and scour the leaves for life's truth
beneath the sacred scarf of oaks and maples
the autumn softly beckons
one whisp, one leaf at a time --
let go,
release
i sorrow with my hands open
ready to receive
he is here
she is here
they are here
all of our loved ones
beyond the stars
in the changing colors
of the tumbling leaves
we are here
i place my hands on my heart
they are right here.