Poem

 

The siblings visited the labyinth 9/23/24. It was chilly but we were prepared. Chris and I may not have been prepared for the poem that Betsy shared. Words just ooze out of her. We all are in awe of her insights and ways she expresses herself. She pushes through the moments to let her emotions be known. She makes us feel all the feels. This kate coverdale maybe should have been a published poet (she actually is), but we are so lucky we are the recipients of her deeply felt beliefs, innermost feelings, and healing energy.

For Adam, who taught me the endless possibility of love

I wish I’d known.

I wish I’d taken your pain, crumpled it up and held it in my heart, for you,

Returning it in torn little bits, instead of that long sheet of grief.

Because there is pain in this life, immoveable things we must all move through.

They say if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

I say if wishes were horses, I’d ride, by your side, through that storm,

Until we found a place where the clouds part ever so much

To allow that small break through which that single exquisite beam

Renders nearly the touch of God.

No matter if I believe or you believe, but maybe that warm touch,

Would have been enough to light another day.

I wish I could gather you in my arms as when you were a baby, rocking you for a hundred hours or

more, walking a hundred miles or more.

I’d hold your pain, just as I once held you,

Until you slept that deep sleep of a baby’s innocent slumber,

To wake for one more day,

A day in which you could impossibly move through that immoveable thing.

I wish, I wish, I wish.

Every day, I wish.

kate coverdale, Mar 17, 2024

Tragic

 Once I had the house to myself I put on "Timeless Love Songs," shaved my legs, and took a shower. In the course of this simple routine, I heard "Your Song," the song Adam's dad played with my son, Eli and his wife, Hannah on the night before his memorial service. Next I heard "I Will Always Love You," Adam's most hated song of 1992, or maybe he just hated me singing along on the chorus. Well, I let out some wailing sounds, the kind that comes from the base of your soul. The sound you make when you lose a child. I was able to belt out some of the lyrics in the bathroom, where my voice always sounds better (if only to myself). 

You see, there was a terrible school bus accident this week. Two adults, two 3 year olds, and a 5 year old were killed in a small town near me. What those parents are going through is unimaginable. My heart hurts for them. My friend who lost her adult son in 2020 is on the crew of the high school musical in that small town. I should know better than to ask what they need. Of course, she said she couldn't think of anything. 

So I put on my big girl pants (and Adam's black hoodie) and baked some brownies to take when we go to the play tonight. Made sure I have cash in my wallet in case they take a donation. And Kleenex. I hate crying in front of people. 

Time out for a breakdown to Tracy Chapman's "Baby Can I Hold You Tonight," my song for the not yet born, Adam Tuttle, from the 1988 debut CD that I listened to repeatedly. 

If you've never heard "This Year's Love" by David Gray, it's a beautiful, mournful song. It will get you feeling some type of way. I'm feeling all the feels today. 

I'll leave you with these pics of my boys.