disclaimer or something

A mummy-hand holding, (former) biker gang affiliating, hippie influenced semi crunchy granola mom's ramblings and reminisings on an off-kilter life

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

going home

I remember her curls, unusually tight and a strange melange of copper and silver, clinging to her lifeless head as they wheeled her into the bedroom. Sure, she was alive and somewhat breathing, but she was a ghost in a shell of sorts, in limbo between this world and the next, her appearance even different as if part of another reality. No longer did I see Grandma Val circa 2015 but some strange scarecrow version of her, crafted by a stranger. She was just a vessel.

My dear "Nanny", my Grandma Val, resided on this earth for almost 94 years. Multiple falls and infections tried to pull her away, pneumonia and a heart attack rendered her to the unrecognizable vessel I saw but a glimpse of. Hospice took over, and she stayed here in body for two more days. But she was already on her way somewhere else.

The wedding was when I glimpsed this shell of a grandmother, holding on to one last precious memory. Hours later, her oxygen stopped and so did her heart, but she was revived. She clung to life long enough to talk to her son she hadn't spoken to in a year or seen in dozens, my father. Mere hours later, she made the transition.


She went home.

My cousins and uncle said she was cognizant until the moment of death; she knew she went to a wedding and recognized attendees in the photos, knew she spoke to her son. But no one could convince her, as she lay in a makeshift hospital bed at home under hospice, that she was home. No familiar object or person could quiet her request: "I want to go home".

At 11:30pm March 17, my dear Nanny got her wish. She went home. Rest in peace my dear. You are missed but not forgotten.

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

microstory: whose side are you on?

On the edge of the precipice
darkness stewing
the light quietly whispers against the smothering black which cloaks itself in familiarity
 a weapon of comfort
the shackles are but life, it says
while the light shines from afar
 of which I yearn

Monday, March 2, 2015

microstory - succubus

The rum's all gone
Conversation's over
I told you no
How you hurt
How you suck the life out from me
You used caveats and excuses
And distorted it all
Twisted my mind
The bottle's dry
I yearn to heal you