Thanksgiving and another day in the life of Aunt Ira Mae…

Crawfish Creek Manor

Yesterday, I received an update on Aunt Ira Mae’s Thanksgiving week. She chose to stay in the Crawfish Creek area and spent most of her time with her new “Mr. Roy”. She begin with how he makes the worst coffee since the discovery of the coffee bean! There in the morning right! Their week was quiet and peaceful and they never lack for conversation.

He had told her of the love of his life whom he had lost after fifty years of marriage, and she disclosed briefly her failed forty-year marriage. They walked the pumpkin patch to find that perfect pumpkin that he would use make a pie, by now she has told him that she was allergic to cooking. In the afternoon, they had road around in his old pickup truck and found the perfect Christmas tree. This was a special time since she said he had not celebrated the holidays for years, and she had always hoped they would fly by quickly.

To her surprise, he had enlisted the help of some younger neighboring farmers and their wives to help decorate his house inside and out, it took on a special glow, another first for her. Then the day ended and he took her home. As they pulled out of the long driveway, she said that as she looked back the farm looked like it was out of a Norman Rockwell painting. She confessed that she begin to cry, somehow he understood and patted her hand gently.

He said for her not to be sad that it would all be there tomorrow.  “Well of course, and early, I have a Thanksgiving dinner to make for my new friend”.

Then she added what I had been waiting for…

They entered the front door and she turned to Mr. Roy saying…

“Mr. Roy, would you like a shot of Jack”?

“Girl, of course”. His smile broadened.

Passing the “Gathering Room” they stared at a sea of blue waves and curls; it sounded much like a chicken farm. “Cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck”!

When she and Mr. Roy walked past them a silence fell over the room, she heard the Warden say to the others , “Well I never”! Aunt Ira Mae turned to face her saying…

“And, you probably never will”.

I am so pleased that she has found a bit of happiness and one would think after almost a century, it has been a long time coming.

I am beginning to think like her in the fact that as we age we should just be thankful each day that we wake and keep telling ourselves…breathe damn’t.

 

Grief up close and personal…

In July of 2010, I lost two children, two days apart. I have been force to create a new life while living within the circle of my old life. There are three dreaded periods where I barely exist, the month of July, Thanksgiving and Christmas. In the beginning of July, I start my countdown for those feared dates; the holidays are shrouded in hidden sadness.

No two people grieve the same, mine is in silence; held within to be strong for my other children. I turned from my love of writing fiction and short stories to poetry. In poetry, I poured out my grief. It soon became an outlet for not only the loss of my children, but my life as it used to be. After publishing five books of poetry from 2010 to 2014 my well of words are still filled with sadness. Grieving remains hidden within me.

I have been to see doctors, on medications and to counseling on grief, which has not changed my pain and sadness, lived daily, in the quietness of self. I wanted to share my thoughts on grieving with my readers, not everyone can come back from losses in their lives. I have created a new existence, yet the old me lives close, right there under my outward self.

I want to share that time does not always heal. There is supposed to be a process but it does not work for many who have lost loved ones. Life after death for the living is a frenzied hell. The peaks and valleys of my life are never ending. The grieving never fades; it becomes covered by a mask that I wear.

There are many with more education, experience and well versed than I who have written “how to grieve and how to heal”; my contribution is from my own experience and I will say to you that time does not heal for everyone. I have tried to weave my grief within the tapestry of my life while living a new existence, it is difficult.

I understand that people do not know what to say to a grieving person, then do not say anything as nothing eases the pain. I have heard the following, which I cringe at the onset from the person who is trying to comfort me.

• NUMBER 1 FOR ME… “God must have wanted them with him”.  Well this one hurts worse than all the others do; and God and I are still having long conversations about his needs over mine as a mother.
• “God will not give you more than you can handle”.  Those who say this cannot fathom how wrong they are, imploding within a world of non-existence filled with grief cannot always be “handled”.
• “You are handling your loss so well”.  My not screaming and crying does not mean that I am grieving less.
• “You should be happy they are no longer suffering”.  Yes, I am happy they are not suffering, but understand that the suffering remains behind.
• “Talking about you loss will only prolong your grief”.  I have found death and divorce are on the same level as far as no one wants to hear about it.  If you begin, a conversation on either the subject is changed quickly.  Most people do not want to hear about your pain or loss.
• “I know how you feel”.  No, you do not, I have friends that have lost children, and we all agree that there is no way anyone can know how you feel.
• “At least they were old enough to experience a full adult life”.  It does not matter if they are one hour old of in their fifties (as mine were), this statement is wrong on so many levels.
• “It’s been years (five for me); it’s time to get over your loss”.  Few say this but the statement has been said to me…I have had to create a new existence but the old one lives in silence within me.

This entry is meant to be helpful in what not to say to a grieving person. It is to let people know that grief does not have a deadline. I have been told recently that much of my poetry is “dark”, well then you did get the reason for its creation. I will say that there is a small light in the corner of my world yet words of happiness rarely appear upon the blank pages of my creations. I continue to fight to emerge from the void of non-existence, but time is not on my side.

Remember when you approach someone that has lost a loved one, the old saying in relation to words is true “less is more”. A simple, “I am sorry for your loss” works for me.

In this coming season where sadness and happiness are intertwined like garland on the Christmas tree, to those of you who have experience the death of loved ones I am certain that you understand the reason for this entry. You are all in my thoughts and prayers.

For my Children

11.13.2014 ajm

Thank you…

Some of America’s  “Hero’s”, we must always remember them in our hearts.

 

Thank you for your support in reblogging the last post.  First, FEMA should never ask for refunds on money they have given to support those in need.  Second, as Americans we get more support during these disaster’s from private funding…we support and care for each other more than our government does.  Third, our support to other countries also comes from private funding, from the hearts of Americans; I see the numbers that our government gives but does it go to the right people, the people in need?  Time to get down off the soap box…but too many who are less fortunate are forgotten on a regular basis in the USA; they need our voices.  Thank you so much for visiting and reading Libretto.  11.10.2014  ajm

 

 

I Got Mail…from Aunt Ira Mae!

The subject line read:  Met a nice man!  Then Ira Mae wrote the following:

Trying to bike in Hell Town is taking your life into your own hands. It is difficult to believe since there is only one street, Main, and two bridges to cross over. Of course, there are no bike lanes, riding down main even with it two or three cars is a sign of being brave.

A redheaded woman pulled out of the Crawfish Café in a 1966 baby blue Studebaker, mint condition, the last year they built that funny little car. She pulled out without looking, I put on brakes right before impact! BITCH…

As it turn out I would later find out that she is the preacher’s wife, a church located between Crawfish and Clinton the only church within miles, and I was later told that she leads the choir, reads hot romance novels during church service.

Then an old red Ford truck passed me, unlike the Studebaker it appeared to be held together with rust and baling wire. This pipe-smoking farmer I was also to find out grows pumpkins for Halloween and trees for Christmas, he carries to Clinton to sell on an old A&P lot. When he pulled out of his parking place in front of Wilson’s Drug and Hardware store he gave me a smile saying…“Wanna race”! I believe he found my “trike” funny. Yes, I found out a lot about him later.

Off he went like a snail, at the bottom of a hill about a mile out of town I could see the old truck turning onto a side road. I went down the winding road through the pumpkin patch took me in front of a country home out of a Norman Rockwell painting. There he sat, rocking back and forth next to a table with two cups of steaming coffee. Now is this fate?

“It’s strong and it’s hot, like I like my women…if I was young enough to still like women”. He winked and continued, “I’m Bill, and you’re that young thing that moved into Crawfish Manor. It is all over town about a southern lady.

He laughed so hard it was infectious. I said to him, “Mr. Bill , I’m no spring chicken, but frankly I don’t think God is ready for me and the devil would not know what to do with me”!   I sat down had the worst cup of coffee in my life and I believe that I may have found the best friend that I will probably have in my life.

Time for a moment with Jack and remembering to breathe damn’it. When you come over I will take you to the pumpkin/Christmas tree farm.

 

“Needless to say, I have to meet this Mr. Bill soon”. 11.7.2014   ajm

 

On Sale at Amazon.com…

IN SEARCH OF WORDS

 

Ann Johnson-Murphree Poetry Books – A Collection of Poetry

Book at Amazon.com…

IN SEARCH OF WORDS

 

Ann Johnson-Murphree Poetry Books – A Collection of Poetry
The 8×11 coffee table books that will display well . The matte cover is classy and inviting. Within each book the reader will find approximately fifty poems.  A length pleasing to browse, read one or more; they will find a connection, a meaning and a purpose in each poem.

 

A Sachet of Poetry…

 

About adoration, aspirations and yes asylums…

• “Tears are words that need to be written.”
  Paulo Coelho
   
• http://www.amazon.com/Sachet-Poetry-Adoration-Aspirations-Asylums/dp/1500483354/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1414339421&sr=1-1&keywords=ann+johnson-murphree+paperbacks

 

On Sale…

 

IN SEARCH OF WORDS

 

Ann Johnson-Murphree Poetry Books – A Collection of Poetry
The 8×11 coffee table books that will display well . The matte cover is classy and inviting. Within each book the reader will find approximately fifty poems.  A length pleasing to browse, read one or more; they will find a connection, a meaning and a purpose in each poem.

 

Thank you for your support.  ajm

Books at Amazon.com……………..

Ann Johnson-Murphree Poetry Books – A Collection of Poetry
The 8×11 coffee table books that will display well . The matte cover is classy and inviting. Within each book the reader will find approximately fifty poems.  A length pleasing to browse, read one or more; they will find a connection, a meaning and a purpose in each poem.

 

Thank you for your support.  ajm

A Patchwork Life…

http://www.amazon.com/Honeysuckle-Memories-Ann-Johnson-murphree/dp/150029070X/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1405934856&sr=1-3&keywords=ann+johnson-Murphree

Ann Johnson-Murphree Poetry Books – A Collection of Revelation Poetry
The 8X11 coffee table book that will display well on anyone’s coffee table or in any area. The matte cover is classy and inviting. Within each book the reader will find approximately fifty poems.  A length pleasing to browse, read one or more; they will find a connection, a meaning and a purpose in each poem.
One of a collection of poetry books filled with inspiring thoughts and reassuring words with a factual viewpoint on the many experiences in the life of the poet.  Each book serves as a prevailing reminder that life is complex.  That happiness is in our hands alone; that the fear of unhappiness is deep-rooted in the spirit and soul.  That depression and despair is real and each individual must find the freedom of mind, body and soul to move forward in their life.
Each poem has been created from the fabric of a patchwork life, complex, stress-filled, finding enlightenment and cultivating wisdom.  Anyone who will open their mind is free to pursue insight, to find their own nirvana. This collection of thoughts brings the reader along on the multifaceted journey of the poet’s experiences throughout life.