The Old Me

Looks a lot like the current me

I have a spare bedroom in my apartment. The nightstands are makeshift. One is the top of an old plastic file cabinet with somewhat clear drawers. Yesterday I walked into the room and sun shone just so… and I saw some old notebooks in one of the drawers. Here is some stuff I wrote in 2002 (BK) that I had totally forgotten about… and a few doodles too.

*BK = before Katie.

3 Haiku, 4/1/2002

And what if I write
a terribly long poem 
without an ending?

Misanthrope resting
her laurels next to my bed.
What words does she sing?

Dance fight sing and pray
Until your knees, toes, fists bleed
and your voice withers

and these…

Where am I going? Do I have the balls to follow my dreams? It seems I am too afraid. Or just too lazy.

intimate
intimidating
She stands only a foot away
with no threat of touch
yet I am doubled over in pain.

intimate
is her breath
I smell lilacs
and her hair
leaves, green and soft
pressed to my cheeks
She is a warm breeze in winter
intimi-dating
she can overwhelm - I feel her touch
and the life of her squeeze

poison is on my lips
I want to lick them
but my tongue is dry

4/8/2002
My damn neighbor 
Blasts sound
Walls vibrate
ears burn
and my fist
scrapes the paint
off his wall.

What a front!!
one man a step behind
lands in a crock of misshapen misery
and he watches a mystic pie
loop around before his eyes
A pregnancy underneath
his eyes so loud
he burns the walls down.

Bruises cover my damn body 
like lakes in the great north
Mosquitos breed in their dark pools.

Never on track to be a bomb
Can I notice anything
I’m good at?
Can I?
Will I ever?
Never?

Hold a flame to my toes 
and I might jump
Bud I’d be just as likely
to bend over

I’m not interested in posting a dysfunctional relief image of my workplace.

When her leg touched Mine…
I could do nothing
-intake of breath-
but exhale.
Like a sigh - that 
THIGH
had all my focus
so much I nearly missed her breathing

My body is a spear
to the world
ocean fishes
to the sea
salt water tides
to a river
I burn and drip.

Supple like wind
not altogether unlike
YELLOW, the color of the sun
and a daisy.

And so you learn… virtual indignation erodes…

5/7/2002
I wonder what it is like
	to be dying…
Alone in the world…
	Not even forgotten.
Unknown.

5/31/2026

And so this bit ends… and this morning as I stood in my kitchen a memory stark and fierce lit up my brain in colors and textures and sounds. Deep and heavy it moved from my having the privilege and honor of holding her as she died to the practical… what to do now? Wrap her in blankets, carry her down the stairs to the waiting hearse. Clean the blood from the carpet. That was over three years ago.

I have a friend that lost her husband in a sudden accident about 6 months after Katie died. I sometimes refer to this friend as my bereavement buddy. She is still having a lot of trouble processing the loss. She learned about it when the police came and knocked on her door. She had to suffer disbelief, shock, numbness and I wonder how long it took before she actually truly understood. Until this morning I thought maybe it would have been better if she could have been there for his passing. No. There are ugly bits. Ugly bits in every death and we all have our own paths to follow. When tied emotionally so deeply to someone it will not be fun no matter the path.

I am thankful that my what ifs are limited. Katie wanted her death and was at peace with it and I wanted her to have what she wanted ~ despite what that meant. My bereavement buddy still has what ifs running through her brain. They may never go away completely.

My point? I am not sure entirely. Be there, I guess. In whatever fashion you can. Be aware of the value of those in your lives even if they are angry or spiteful or are attempting to burn the bridge you stand on… together. For when they are gone, there is no going back.

Love. That is really it.

Hug.