Haiku about My Nephew, Oliver

It's been two weeks since my beautiful nephew died. One week since his funeral. I recognize that I am trying to accept this new sadness, this addition to myself I have to agree to live with. It is becoming a part of who I call "me." Two weeks without Oliver physically with us. The sadness at times is immense.

And yet, I found myself singing in the shower this evening. It's been a long time since I've done that. A very long time.  And I ask, how? How can we live with it? To live with "losing" our Oliver. To live with only being allowed to see him in our minds' eyes and in the hundreds of still pictures. It is not enough, will never be enough. We ache to touch him, and to hear his voice, and to have his eyes meet ours. What a surprise it was when I heard my own voice singing. It seems impossible that I was singing in the shower. What a content thing to do. The words to this song that we sang often at mass when I was a child was coming out of my mouth as I poured conditioner into the palm of my hand. And I felt that it will be alright. Even with this heavy addition to my emotional map.

Tonight, I write a haiku, inspired by my dear little nephew, Oliver, whose acknowledgement of his happiness and whose joy of living in the moment has become something I admire and will strive to do often, regardless of what has  happened and what may be coming around the corner.

Yesterday is done.

Don't fret about Tomorrow.

Right Now is what counts. 

Haiku for a Girl I Use to Know

 I'm horrible at remembering people from my past by name. My sister would ask me, "Guess who I ran into the other day?" I would answer with the obligatory, "I don't know, who?" "Remember so-and-so?" Four out of five times, I would say I did not. And her response would be, "Of course you do, remember when...." and then she would remind me of something, and it's a fifty-fifty chance it helps me remember the person. My sister remembers just about everyone. I don't know why I cannot. Especially, high school. The person has to be someone I talked to a lot all through high school, or someone I liked very much, or someone who I despised. Yes, shamefully I admit I was a teen age girl who quietly "hated". I've changed--I grew up. 

 
The other day I read something that has been nagging me. I read an obituary of a woman who had graduated high school with me. I could not remember her by name, although her name did sound vaguely familiar.  I was sure if I make an emotional connection, the memory would come back. So today I took a peak in a high school year book. I looked at the little notes people wrote to me. I came to one was signed with her first name. "I'm glad I got to be your friend. Maybe I will see you this summer. See you then and good luck on exams."  Could this be her? Could I have known her? So, I went to the sophomore section, where we could be found. Found her name. Looked over and remembered her immediately. I liked her. She was nice and soft-spoken. And she had the blue-est eyes. 
Wow. I'm sad this girl is gone.

Today my haiku is to this girl, who I knew a lifetime ago. Simple words, but heartfelt.

I remember you.

I hope life was good to you

And you were happy.

Haiku to a Friend (1)

Dogs and cats--I love them. I keep an album for the dogs in my life. It contains pictures of Captain and Flash, two dogs we had growing up. There's Chico, Mimi, and Duffy, my three shelties, long since gone. Then, there's Snowie and TinTin, my sister's dogs. And I have pics of other dogs, who I've met along the way. We never had cats growing up; for some reason my dad didn't like them. Cats entered my life when I was in my 30's. And that is when I realized I could be both a dog person and a cat person. 

So, of course, an album exists, dedicated to the cats in my life. I came across it last night and peaked inside. I saw a gorgeous picture of Kit. He is on my mind this morning. It was he who taught me how wonderful cats can be. Kit was a cute kitten and he grew into a  big, handsome tom cat--a gray tabby with green eyes and a pink nose. Kit stayed by my side for sixteen years, until he passed away two and a half years ago. He was with me through many difficult times in my life-- a divorce, the death of my father, a peeping tom scare, a miscarriage. Kit was present at the excitement of new romance, a couple of fun moves, my wedding, finding our children. And there was my cat at the quiet, mundane times--cuddling up with a good book, cooking dinner, coming home from work. Always, Kit.

Today's haiku is inspired by my first cat, Kit, who, after almost three years without him, I still cry over his absence. 

Kit, my friend, my constant,

Through all my changes--good, bad

My Pet was present.