December 2, 2017

IMG_0127.JPGThere are certain days on the calendar that are marked for celebration or remembrance.  Usually we think of them as happy days but sometimes they are quiet days of reflection.  December 2 became a marked day for me in 2011 when mom passed away.   Every December 2nd since then I have remembered, reflected, and some things I try to forget.  I have tried various ways to spend that day to help get through the 24 hours.  One year I bore my testimony.  One year I tried to do an act of service.  I just try to find some small way to do something mom would be proud of. Continue reading

The Toll We Pay

I didn’t think I could do it.

I thought that I would fail.

To my surprise I did it.

I survived this dreadful tale.


I’m stronger than I thought.

I didn’t even fall.

But now around my heart

I had to build a wall.


I can survive anything.

But what will be the cost?

Is it worth remaining

if my soul is lost?


Is that the toll we pay

just for getting older?

The heart continues beating

but everyday grows colder.


© 2014 ck’s days

The View

The road below

I am surrounded by hills.

I used to go walking and there was a spot I’d visit.

It kept secrets well.

In fact, the ground was littered with shiny, broken secrets from other people.  People who visited at night.

I always visited during the day.

“I want out of this town,” I confided to the sagebrush.

“My life will be much happier when I’m out,” I told the rocks.

“I hate my life here!” I’d yell down to the road.

“Life isn’t fair.”  At that time, I indulged in the belief that life had to be fair in order to be good.

I-80 stretched  out below me carrying bug-sized cars to different destinations.  It disappeared around the bend in the east.

It was my hope that life didn’t end in town.  Surely, there was more than what I could see.

When the time came, and the time was right, the road below would be my escape route.

The same road that got me out, brought me home again.

I visited my spot the other day.  The cars hurried on their way below.

“I miss my mom,” I confided to the sagebrush.

“I want her back,” I told the rocks.

“I miss my mom and I want her back!” I yelled down to the road.

“It’s not fair,” I said as more of an indulgence than belief.  I’ve learned life isn’t fair, but it can still be good.  It’s how we handle the unfairness that determine our happiness.

The road below still disappears around the bend in the east.  It reminds me there is more than this town.

When the time is right, and the time will come, I will follow a road out of town.

And return home.

Originally posted May 8, 2012

Impossible to Say Goodbye

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by SuzyWordmuser

Coldness has become my friend

The dark of night wraps around

Joy has gone astray

Uncertain feelings hold me down

A life has been lost

But a life shall be gained

When a new day arrives

You will be here again

When all unfolds

Confusion cleared – and I can see

I will not stand alone

You will live inside of me

You are a breeze upon my face

Invisible to my eye

Forever you will always remain

Impossible – to say goodbye

Written after the death of my mother.  Even when someone has gone, and essence still remains.  Everything they were and all they did for you will still be alive.

Sweet dreams

Occasionally I dream of my mom.  I can no longer see her face but I can feel her presence.  I simply know it’s her.  Lately, when mom does come to visit in a dream it’s with the “she’s not really gone.  She didn’t die.  She was not as sick as we thought,” theme.  I get this hope inside me.  You know, like the hope Rafiki gives to Simba about Mufasa.  Simba chases after the aged simian and the audience thinks, “Oh, I hope Mufasa is really alive!”

I wake up as disappointed as Simba when he looks at his reflection in the pool of water.  Mom is gone.

When she does make an appearance in my dreams she usually talks to the family.  Or helps us out.  We tend to keep her pretty busy.  Some things never change.

I experienced a rather stressful weekend last week.  Not bad stress just busy stress.  I kept busy from quitting time on Friday to Sunday afternoon.  At times, I felt overwhelmed.  Sometimes inadequate.  I questioned if I am really cut out to do the job asked of me.  Thankfully, I was so busy I didn’t have much time to devote to self-doubt.

By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around I felt exhausted.  I gave my best and prayed it was good enough.  That night I had a momma-dream.  This time we just hugged.  It was a long embrace that lasted until I woke up.

It was enough.

I received the strength I needed to face my week.  Yeah, I got this.