Ramblings of an Old, Romantic Soul

My emotions are high, and they are mixed.  Anger, hurt, dismay, sadness - a deep, deep sadness.  And hurt. I didn't think I was much bothered by what transpired yesterday, but when I awoke this morning my heart was heavy with such sadness.  This is gonna be a jumble of thoughts because I have so many coursing through my brain right now. First and foremost, hurt and betrayal of a nephew.  To be called such a vile name in such a vulgar way...words coming from someone I have only loved throughout life.  The sadness is deep, and try as I might to blow it off as rantings of a sad, angry person, it isn't easy.  I remember the sweet boy from long ago, and for so long I have tried to defend his actions/his anger; I have tried to believe there is still that sweet boy buried deep inside...and now?  I don't know, and what's worse, I'm not sure I even care anymore.  Horrible thoughts for an aunt, I know, but words wound deep and leave lasting scars. And...

"Who can explain how the mind & heart works or what the depth of love & sorrow is?" My mother wrote those words to me the other day.  She was trying to explain her reaction upon seeing the tombstone on Daddy's grave.  The words hit home, and hit hard. Who can explain?  When I saw the picture of the tombstone, I was deeply shaken.  Seeing his name in stone, and the dates, made it all too real that yes, he is gone and he is not coming back.  I don't know how to explain my feelings.  I know he is gone, but there are times when I think of him, when I hear his voice, that my mind forgets and I think he's just not 'here', not present; perhaps still in the hospital or nursing home. I arrived at work, turned on my phone to call my husband.  My sister's message popped up, along with the picture.  The tears came fast and hard...I just wasn't expecting to see his name.  And the flowers that were placed upon the marker made it even more poign...

So, I woke up this morning with the phrase 'thrice, you've come into my dreams'.  Can't think of anything more to add, but the word 'thrice' has been in my head all day.  An interesting word, to be sure.  Just say it 'thrice'...meaning three times...What would four times be?  Is there a word?  Mmm...don't think so.  Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, have had a headache all day, but thrice I have counted myself  lucky to be married to the man who is my husband.  Yes, thrice, I have looked upon his countenance and thought 'what a lucky woman am I!'... Thrice.  Thrice. Thrice.

My oh my who do I see, hiding in the cherry tree? Mom and Dad, love still in bloom; ah, inhale love's sweet perfume! Copyright © Kristina M. Hooper, 03/27/2011 Inspired by the love of my parents, and a friend, Martin, and his Cherry Tree series... for more, visit poetsforintegrity.org

Do people realize how they can hurt with words?  How something simple can wound so deeply?  I admit to being a bit emotional; and I admit that I can get my feelings hurt easily...but be that as it may, why aren't people more careful with their utterances.  Truly, some people open their mouth and the arrow is out before they can stop.  They move on, but the wound remains...open and ugly. And I do believe that some people don't realize what they say, how they hurt.  Others, on the other hand, know exactly what they're saying and shame on them.  Physical wounds can heal.  Bruises disappear.  But the damage of words, and the power they hold, sometimes last a lifetime...and sometimes they are the deadliest wounds of all. 'Loose lips, sink ships'...loose lips can sink hearts as well.  Take heed.

   Please read the title in your best Irish accent possible...and to that add 'top o' the mornin' and 'erin go braugh'...these were favorite sayings of my great-uncle Ed.  He was Irish through and through and very proud of his heritage.  St. Patrick's Day always reminds me of him.   One may ask, 'what does pug mahone mean?'...not quite sure we ever really got a definite answer, but I do believe the definition is somewhere along the lines of 'kiss my ass'...That was Uncle Ed.  Uncle Leddy, as we called him when we were little.  He was a great man...more of a grandfather to my siblings and I, than a great-uncle.  He and Aunt Marie - Aunt Aree... The two of them were truly the only 'grandparents' any of us truly knew...my last grandparent died when I was only 6 months old, so I never knew them.  Aunt Marie and Uncle Ed filled the bill, perfectly.  Whenever they would visit, Aunt Aree would have boxes, or bags, of Chic...

Every time you walk away I die a little death; a piece of me disappears, heart stops, as does my breath. My lonely soul held captive, imprisoned by your grace; come love, return, rescue me, unveil your winsome face. Then once again I shall live, forever in your spell; leave me not, my lady fair, close by you let me dwell. Copyright © Kristina M. Hooper, 03/08/2011  Inspired by my husband...early this morning he gave me the line 'every time you walk away, I die a little'...challenged me to write something... so, this is to my love... For more of my poetry, and work of other wonderful poets, check out poetsforintegrity.org