That patio
outside the hospital
where you
were born
- no better place
exists.
-Jim DuBois
Oct 29, 2014
Showing posts with label Joshua. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Joshua. Show all posts
Monday, November 24, 2014
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Done Anything Good
I don't know
if you've ever
done anything good,
but I have,
or so they tell me.
It always seems
that my memories
of doing good
fade so quickly.
I can't quite
grasp them.
I probably can't quite
understand who I
actually am.
My self image
is out of line
with reality,
but I've decided
to go on this quest
for the truth
about myself,
to try and remember
the good things,
to commemorate
and celebrate
the things I've done
and if one of those
fleeting memories
comes back
for a moment,
I must grasp on,
and write it down,
to get a better picture
of what my life
has really been.
-Jim DuBois
Sep 12, 2013
if you've ever
done anything good,
but I have,
or so they tell me.
It always seems
that my memories
of doing good
fade so quickly.
I can't quite
grasp them.
I probably can't quite
understand who I
actually am.
My self image
is out of line
with reality,
but I've decided
to go on this quest
for the truth
about myself,
to try and remember
the good things,
to commemorate
and celebrate
the things I've done
and if one of those
fleeting memories
comes back
for a moment,
I must grasp on,
and write it down,
to get a better picture
of what my life
has really been.
-Jim DuBois
Sep 12, 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
Monday, May 13, 2013
I write these things down
I write
these things down,
because someone
should do it,
and I decided
it would be me.
I don't think
it needs to be
too clever,
or too dramatic.
It mainly
just needs doing.
-Jim DuBois
March 31, 2013
these things down,
because someone
should do it,
and I decided
it would be me.
I don't think
it needs to be
too clever,
or too dramatic.
It mainly
just needs doing.
-Jim DuBois
March 31, 2013
Sunday, May 5, 2013
I'm Saving Your Heart
Joshua,
playing on the couch
one day,
his head
in my lap,
reached up
and touched
my cheek.
"I'm saving your heart,"
he said.
I know,
I thought,
you really are.
-Jim DuBois
March 31, 2013
playing on the couch
one day,
his head
in my lap,
reached up
and touched
my cheek.
"I'm saving your heart,"
he said.
I know,
I thought,
you really are.
-Jim DuBois
March 31, 2013
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
They Never Said Goodbye
From where she
knelt, playing
in the sand,
4 year old Zoe,
when told that
we, her visiting friends,
were going,
said, "I know"
and later on the
boardwalk,
yelled to us
as our distance
increased,
"You'll be late
for the birthday
party"
(at her house)
and Josh,
five years old,
even with urging
and pleading,
usually ignores
people
when they go
which is just
what he did
this time,
too.
-Jim DuBois
July 27, 2012
knelt, playing
in the sand,
4 year old Zoe,
when told that
we, her visiting friends,
were going,
said, "I know"
and later on the
boardwalk,
yelled to us
as our distance
increased,
"You'll be late
for the birthday
party"
(at her house)
and Josh,
five years old,
even with urging
and pleading,
usually ignores
people
when they go
which is just
what he did
this time,
too.
-Jim DuBois
July 27, 2012
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Rocket Boy
We must have told you
that Daddy was far away
after he died,
or something like that,
because you got it
in your head
that he was out on Jupiter
in outer space, or at a star,
and we let it stand at that,
because often there was
no more reasonable way
to say it.
Lately you've loved to watch
the launch of Apollo 11
on youtube,
and listen to the song
"Rocket-Man"
by Elton John,
and I think
as I sit there with you
that you are on
a kind of a lonely quest
to find your father,
and I am awed
by the deep hope
you have
that maybe it's possible.
It is serious
and important for you,
at four and a half,
to be on this quest,
and it is important
for me to set down a reminder,
a note to your future self,
saying that even though
a quest might take you
across the universe,
it always ends up
being about coming to terms
with what is inside of you.
-Jim DuBois
Dec 10, 2011
Bonus Videos! Watch them separately, or do an experiment and run them both at the same time.
Start this first:
Start this after a couple of minutes or so:
that Daddy was far away
after he died,
or something like that,
because you got it
in your head
that he was out on Jupiter
in outer space, or at a star,
and we let it stand at that,
because often there was
no more reasonable way
to say it.
Lately you've loved to watch
the launch of Apollo 11
on youtube,
and listen to the song
"Rocket-Man"
by Elton John,
and I think
as I sit there with you
that you are on
a kind of a lonely quest
to find your father,
and I am awed
by the deep hope
you have
that maybe it's possible.
It is serious
and important for you,
at four and a half,
to be on this quest,
and it is important
for me to set down a reminder,
a note to your future self,
saying that even though
a quest might take you
across the universe,
it always ends up
being about coming to terms
with what is inside of you.
-Jim DuBois
Dec 10, 2011
Bonus Videos! Watch them separately, or do an experiment and run them both at the same time.
Start this first:
Start this after a couple of minutes or so:
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Running Around Eastworks
Running around Eastworks
after Mama's birthday dinner,
we saw the bear!
we ran around the little shack
with all the poems,
we ran up and down the big hallways.
Watching you reminded me
that it's ok to love.
-Jim DuBois
March 2009
after Mama's birthday dinner,
we saw the bear!
we ran around the little shack
with all the poems,
we ran up and down the big hallways.
Watching you reminded me
that it's ok to love.
-Jim DuBois
March 2009
Sunday, September 6, 2009
When You Were Almost Two
When you were almost two,
you and me and Shahana
ran around in Eastworks
while our other people
talked after dinner
at the Apollo Grill.
There was this huge plastic bear
in one of the windows
and I lifted you up
so you could get a better view.
Shahana wanted to see too,
so I picked her up with my other arm
and we looked at the bear together.
We laughed and talked and pointed
and I felt peaceful and happy and content.
I held you guys for as long as I could,
until my arms got tired,
but if I could, I'd be there still,
holding you up to see the bear.
-Jim DuBois
March + Aug 2009
you and me and Shahana
ran around in Eastworks
while our other people
talked after dinner
at the Apollo Grill.
There was this huge plastic bear
in one of the windows
and I lifted you up
so you could get a better view.
Shahana wanted to see too,
so I picked her up with my other arm
and we looked at the bear together.
We laughed and talked and pointed
and I felt peaceful and happy and content.
I held you guys for as long as I could,
until my arms got tired,
but if I could, I'd be there still,
holding you up to see the bear.
-Jim DuBois
March + Aug 2009

Monday, July 6, 2009
In the Weeks Right After Josh Was Born
Once, in the weeks right after Josh was born,
I typed my thoughts into the computer,
and cried about how hard it is
to care about someone innocent
who you know
must face a hard world.
Not that I think the world is only hard.
I also think it is fantastic
and I love living.
There is so much to do,
so much I want to do.
-Jim DuBois
March 25, 2008
I typed my thoughts into the computer,
and cried about how hard it is
to care about someone innocent
who you know
must face a hard world.
Not that I think the world is only hard.
I also think it is fantastic
and I love living.
There is so much to do,
so much I want to do.
-Jim DuBois
March 25, 2008
Thursday, January 8, 2009
This is the Coat (March 31, 2007)
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