Monday, September 30, 2013
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Thursday, September 12, 2013
just over 3 years since you died
The other day,
we were
up at the lake house,
putting things away
for the season,
packing up
the odds and ends,
reviewing memories,
winding down.
It's been
just over 3 years
since you died
and I
have a few more things
to tell about,
to record and remember,
to help me
wrap things up.
I remember seeing you,
orange skinned
from liver failure,
entering the front door,
a slightly fatigued look
on your face,
and at that moment,
I had no idea
it would be
the last time
I saw you,
or that a few months
later
I'd move into the basement
of that house
for three weeks
to be close
to your son
and widow.
I made a lot
of phone calls,
did a lot of coordinating
support for your wife,
listened,
and listened
and listened,
and cried
and cried
and cried.
I arranged visits,
I kept some people
at bay,
I got people to
come up and play,
in the midst of it all,
play with me and Josh.
I found out how far
I could go,
how much I could take,
what I could do.
I went over that line
a few times
and I want to
tell about them
because it's good
to know about
your limits
and mostly people
only hear that in
a vague way
and mostly people
haven't been
out there themselves.
The first time,
I offered
to make some
phone calls
to family and friends
who might want to
say something
at the funeral,
and these were
probably the hardest
conversations I have
ever had.
I got off the phone
and burst into tears.
The next time
I remember,
a call came in
from a friend
of your wife's
and I took it.
More bad news:
the friend's husband
had died, only a few days
after you.
I had to take
your widow out to the porch
and give her that news,
and it broke my spirit
for a little bit
and I rushed out
and kayaked hard
for a while.
I told my dad,
who I never tell anything,
that that fall
was the most unhappy
time of my entire life.
I also tell people
that it was good
to find out
that I could put
my values
into action
and wasn't just talking
about integrity and courage.
Ever since those hard times
I've known myself
much more clearly.
-Jim DuBois
Sept 4, 2013
we were
up at the lake house,
putting things away
for the season,
packing up
the odds and ends,
reviewing memories,
winding down.
It's been
just over 3 years
since you died
and I
have a few more things
to tell about,
to record and remember,
to help me
wrap things up.
I remember seeing you,
orange skinned
from liver failure,
entering the front door,
a slightly fatigued look
on your face,
and at that moment,
I had no idea
it would be
the last time
I saw you,
or that a few months
later
I'd move into the basement
of that house
for three weeks
to be close
to your son
and widow.
I made a lot
of phone calls,
did a lot of coordinating
support for your wife,
listened,
and listened
and listened,
and cried
and cried
and cried.
I arranged visits,
I kept some people
at bay,
I got people to
come up and play,
in the midst of it all,
play with me and Josh.
I found out how far
I could go,
how much I could take,
what I could do.
I went over that line
a few times
and I want to
tell about them
because it's good
to know about
your limits
and mostly people
only hear that in
a vague way
and mostly people
haven't been
out there themselves.
The first time,
I offered
to make some
phone calls
to family and friends
who might want to
say something
at the funeral,
and these were
probably the hardest
conversations I have
ever had.
I got off the phone
and burst into tears.
The next time
I remember,
a call came in
from a friend
of your wife's
and I took it.
More bad news:
the friend's husband
had died, only a few days
after you.
I had to take
your widow out to the porch
and give her that news,
and it broke my spirit
for a little bit
and I rushed out
and kayaked hard
for a while.
I told my dad,
who I never tell anything,
that that fall
was the most unhappy
time of my entire life.
I also tell people
that it was good
to find out
that I could put
my values
into action
and wasn't just talking
about integrity and courage.
Ever since those hard times
I've known myself
much more clearly.
-Jim DuBois
Sept 4, 2013
Friday, September 6, 2013
Sometimes, Temporarily
Sometimes, temporarily,
instead of
always or never
yeah,
sometimes, temporarily
-Jim DuBois
Aug 19, 2013
instead of
always or never
yeah,
sometimes, temporarily
-Jim DuBois
Aug 19, 2013
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