Dear Fellow Griever,
I found some voice through haiku as I was processing some of the depths of my grief. The cadence of 5-7-5 worked for me. I wanted to share in case haiku may be useful to you, too.
Lovingly,
Mary
April 4, 2022. The day after Jim died.
Facebook post: Sitting on my patio this morning with my
coffee in the crisp cold air giving thanks for the compassionate
care that hospice, the BrightView aides and staff, have given to
Jim. The cardinal, blackbird, tufted titmouse, chickadee, blue
jay, the joyous song of a wren somewhere, the morning sun . .
. all are reminders that life goes on and that death is part of life.
The ring of Jim’s Japanese bell connects me to people in far
off lands that Jim and I are privileged to know. The blue sky
with a wisp of a cloud floating by, the spruce and pine, the
bare branches of trees on the hillside that are preparing for
new growth and the abundant lupine next month, the hint of
pink on the ornamental cherry trees remind me of the beautify of
the natural world that Jim loved so much.
And my loving family… there aren’t words enough for the
ways they loved their dad and for the many ways they are
supporting me. I give thanks for all these things as the lump in
my through increases, the tears fall, my nose runs and
my heart breaks.
When Jim died, it was
so hard to wrap my head
around the fact that he was gone.
The first several haiku pages reflect that…
the ups and downs, twists and turns.
These repetitive haiku poured out of me over
several days/weeks
“Grief is like riding a roller coaster in the dark.” – Anonymous
End of Life Haiku
Jim’s physically gone
went out the way he came in
he’s physically gone
Jim’s physically gone
tears fall… sadness overwhelms
he’s physically gone
Jim’s physically gone
numbness sits, uninvited
he’s physically gone
Jim’s physically gone
a goldfinch at my feeder!
he’s physically gone
Jim’s physically gone
his footprints remain in us
he’s physically gone
Jim’s physically gone
loved by so many Ridge Kids
he’s physically gone
Jim’s physically gone
cognitive realignment
he’s physically gone
Jim’s physically gone
my heart hurts, my soul cries out
he’s physically gone
Jim’s physically gone
the silence is deafening
he’s physically gone
Jim’s physically gone
special memories remain
he’s physically gone
Jim’s physically gone
still, the legacy he left!
he’s physically gone
Jim’s physically gone
God rest his spirit and soul
he’s physically gone
Jim’s physically gone
peace that seems improbably
he’s physically gone
Jim’s physically gone
gratitude for my family
he’s physically gone
Jim’s physically gone
he was a gift to many
he’s physically gone
Jim’s physically gone
companion in life and death
he’s physically gone
Jim’s physically gone
beautiful, powerful soul
he’s physically gone
Jim’s physically gone
One I have loved and now lost
he’s physically gone
Jim’s physically gone
A present absence of joy
he’s physically gone
Jim’s physically gone
feelings surging and ebbing
he’s physically gone
Jim’s physically gone
he always held space for me
he’s physically gone
Jim’s physically gone
afterglow of his life warms
his star shines brightly
sunset of a good life
lover of family… friends
bask in afterglow
Jim always prayed for
children with no place to go
Sundays at BrightView
life goes on… stands still
crazy juxtaposition
grief has its own way
unhinged… not grounded
wildly swinging emotions
I don’t know myself
Jim’s picture each morn
the gaze of my love’s lament
sunflowers bring tears
storms of the psyche
tumb’ling and gulping sometimes
riding waves of grief
don’t need to “fix” me
slow down and be curious
explore with kindness
can’t rush the process
of a flower unfolding
don’t rip me open
Jim did love his grapes
sweet tears of remembrance
come uninvited
don’t live in the past
what to do with precious time
that is left to me
the call of the loon
haunting and mysterious
through fog of morning
what happened to you
when you breathed your last breath and
your breath became air (Paul Kalanith)
I wish I could know
did you hover around us
or evaporate
Sundays are so hard
I don’t remember… and then…
you died on Sunday
grief sneaks up on me
invading my memory
bringing me to now
let me slow down so
I can find the beauty in
my broken places
after Jim’s death my
hopes, dreams, expectations —
question marks strewn ’round
I just need to stand
in the place where Jim died to
center myself there
I’m blessed by Jim’s life
memories of affection
his gentle spirit
pontoon ride on lake
a rejuvenating day
so good for the soul
I call out your name
are you aware of my pain
when you are so gone?
I long to hug you
one more time and one more time
ache for your presence
aching, empty arms
longing for your warm embrace
dangle by my side
the last breath you took
disappearing in plain sight
life and death’s thin line
trying to find some
pools of blessing that will quench
my parched emptiness
inertia invades
my being as I sit here
unmotivated
I stumble around
through incessant fog in the
midst of your gone-ness
this lonely landscape
my life feels barren and brown
stand in nothingness
Jim, come be with me
I feel so lost, so empty
and you are so gone
tears, nourish my earth
preparing for growth to come…
be patient and wait
there is not a map
for the path I’ve been given…
bless this not knowing
listen for the call
of a blessing that wants to
be given to me
crack the door ajar —
is there light to illumine
this path I am on?
going ’round and ’round
in my grief… remembering
ev’ry small detail
anniversaries
daily, monthly – bring their own
exquisite sorrow
savor this moment
appreciating the now.
it is all I have
cardinal calls in woods
the swallowtail on loosestrife
stay in the moment
birds at my feeder
hillside full of wildflowers
thankful for today
beautiful and sad
photos not so long ago
when we were dancing
requiem for Jim
a symbol of remembrance
my abiding love
nine-eleven morn
inexpressible sorrow
compounds my heartache
some days are like that
living a pity party
others not so much
inevitable
that death comes to all of us
it’s gosh-awful hard
five months and counting
“Send in the Clowns” undoes me
(sigh) “your in mid-air”
when a flower wilts
I don’t anguish or despair
that’s the way it is
when Jim’s breath left him
he closed the door quietly
and then he was gone
I don’t know myself –
having a panic attack
not able to breathe
it is so surreal
six months and the ache lingers
thank God for fam’ly
Written by: Mary Todd
Jan. 2022