We buried Dottie today. She was Mom’s dog. She got her as a young puppy from the Humane Society. My grandson Kaleb chose her name based on the red dots in her long white hair, many of which only showed up when she’d been groomed.

She was Mom’s sidekick for many years. For the most part, where Mom went, Dottie went. Work, travel, you name it. And when Mom moved in with us towards the end of her life, Dottie came with her.

Photo by Mathew Schwartz on Unsplash

can you feel it
the crumbling
the disintegration
it's like dots
on the screen of life
are suddenly disorganized
slowly dropping off
into nothingness

Some days feel as though
I’m lying in a mud-pit
the world is drab and dreary
there’s no getting out
the mud slimes all over

Photo by Jason Williard (1981-2016); used by permission.

Darkness? That's okay.
Joy? Revel in it.
Uncomfortable? Let it be.
The pain comes in the struggle to be other than we are at this moment.

Photo by Author

A giant fir tree
stands strong and fierce
trunk trailing skyward
in a straight line
grounded into earth
limbs flying in the wind
but trunk stands steady
I felt that way once

Photo by Farsai Chaikulngamdee on Unsplash

Cycles
ebb
flow
inhale
exhale
expand
contract

I feel it coming
emotion building
pressure from the inside
molten lava at the core
aching for release
vibrates across the landscape

Old woman
body sags
eyes dull
hearing wavers
songs all sung
slipping off to sleep

Photo by Cedric Fox on Unsplash

If I lived in a world
where I didn't know
a willow tree as a willow tree
or sunflower as a sunflower
but instead

Here's to the dead *
Honoring those
who have gone before
To my mother
who taught me commitment
and dedication