When old hermits of China
abandoned monastery life
heading up to the hills
they took time with them
then forgot all about it
...days last forever...
...years are all the same...
measuring time at all
was a task for seasons or the moon.
Alas! Our times are not the same.

A wise friend suggested six months  
as gift a thing to open
I've accepted it
not knowing what will be inside. 

Following Carol's death 
common wisdom and persons told me 
take time a year or more
no need to rush no big decisions
you've suffered a loss
you must grieve mourn.
A year seemed arbitrary to me
the arbiters of time did not know me
I thought I knew what I needed
that I was different.

Yet ignoring wisdom is not wisdom
it may as well be arrogance ignorance 
in my case a little of both.

Still, six months is also arbitrary
time pulled off the top of her head
no matter 
I see now how I let wisdom pass me by
ever merciful she has come to me again
I've another chance 
to still wait listen.

I will heed my friend
six months
end of October
sesshin at Upaya
skillful means indeed. 

In front of me a man
heavily decorated military man
chest full of gaudy medals
shining gold and silver epauletts
fierce rigid demeanor

He tore off this outer garment
underneath heavily padded armor 
for engaging in battle.

Quick change artist
armor medals epauletts gone
standing before me
soft spoken calm
unadorned undefended man
saying
do you think we can still be friends?

______________________________

I woke up shaking my head
what a bizarre dream
I can't relate to that at all!
Where did that come from?

______________________________

Enter Dr. Jung:

So you say the man  
was nothing like you
is that right
yea, that's right 
military man proud 
heavily defended protected
ready for war, right?
that's about right.
who was that man?

I've no idea.

Well, hmmm.
I'm afraid that's all we have time for today.
I will see you next week.

I've always been an anxious kid
nervous since a child
following rules to not get in trouble
terrible in studies 
did not miss a day of school
eighth grade through senior.

Fortunate to marry a lovely woman
accepting me with my gifts faults
good career enforcing the rules
right down my alley!

Who am I now since she died?
The shadow of who I've always been
rises from my past through body
trying to tell me something:

     high blood pressure
     poor sleep
     skin inflammations
     peripheral neuropathy
     essential tremors 
     memory lapses

so long mistaking these 
as signs only of getting old
perhaps so but not only that.

Friends said words to me
about my loss my age
I listened.
One who knows me knew my wife
her death my moving too fast
she knows about such things saying
six months you need six months
six months I did not take following my wife's death
not an order just a friend
words something like a gift
saying I need time
to find out who I am now
unbounded by rules expectations.

Taking time 
kinder to myself
no rushing into the next thing
as something I should do
I have time and why not?
Because. Just because.
My friends have told me so
in kind loving voices
take the time you need
weeks months six months more
we'll wait for you
until then
be still
sit listen heal
it's all you have to do.

Eleven years retired from the working world
grateful I could do so knowing many cannot. 
On my own now with time
I consider retirement of another kind
from a burdensome sense of responsibility
imposed from without
to a liberating one rising from within.
 
I desire to let go of obligatory responsibilities
that cost me more than what may be bought for the price
let go the importance assigned to values 
that I no longer value so highly
that do not serve me so well in my advancing years.

I wish to know what life may be 
when necessities of responsibility are mediated 
through my well informed heart and mind
arbitrated not by the hard masculine
but by wisdom sourced from the enabling feminine
where my heart may live free 
my mind at ease.

Why write about this now
as I remember my wife in renewed ways?
Perhaps because in my haste to go
and the ensueing whirlwind of the past few years
I neglected what I never should have.
I don't want to make that mistake again.

Passing our old home
I don't see anyone I know
things have changed and the air feels warmer
my heart suffers from the loneliness of the season
the pond is choked with wild bamboo
the courtyard is overgrown with unfamiliar plants
the wind scatters fading flowers
birds return to darkening hills
in the past we enjoyed this together
how strange to be recalling those times
her room in the eastern wing is closed
I can't bear to look at the things she left
her calligraphy brush and writing kit
her perfumed scarf still damp
tools she left in her chest
pieces of silk she cut with her knife
I collected these things to bring back
but bringing them back would just cause more grief
parted forever from the joys we shared
why keep the traces she left behind
words can't express something so dark
and to that distant place I can't go
but the past and present I think are one
and time soothes heartache and sorrow.*

This is, of course, not my poem, but that of Wei Ying-wu (737-791). He was a government official during the T'ang dynasty. He is considered one of China's greatest poets.

I add his poem due to the sense of kinship I felt when I read this poem and several others he wrote following the death of his wife. His writing that "...the past and present I think are one..." is both a sentiment and a truth that I've thought of in these last few weeks. My wife is gone yet the past and present are one. Trying to explain further is beyond me.

*In Such Hard Times, The Poetry of Wei Ying-wu, translated by Red Pine, Copper Canyon Press, Port Townsend, WA, 2009.

The necessities of mourning found me
as I hid among unnecessary ways
found a way to break through
my dim and defended thinking
finally surprisingly I heard its sound
ringing inside as a solemn bell
sounding through me touching my loss
tolling my being old and alone.

How will I manage in these years
take care of myself in uncertainties
diminishing health and mental capacity
what else I try not to imagine
her daughters and granddaughter 
will think of me worry about me
I need think of them
who have no obligation towards me
yet they are good they care
they would help me as they can
this too found a way to reach me
so unexpectedly as I'd begun
to mourn my wife her death
and being alone 
they live with each other in me
I took a step one I am able to take
at seventy-three years
to prepare for one more home
living with others
who share my age and many my loss 
together we can find the way for us
though as of yet I know none of them.

Ritual - careful thoughtful beautiful
healing practice of remembrance

I bring back to body and mind
our intimacy
remaining in me as one
to be carried held
as once I held.

Eihei-ji ritual offering 
incense from bowl
to forehead
brazier
curling smoke
incensing old rafters in sacred space
gassho bow
simple solemn silent ritual
she with me

Early days sitting evenings
calming incense fragrance
curling wisps of smoke
filling my room

To mourn her well
incense to forehead 
candle flame
smoke rising to fill the room
gassho bow 
feel her presence 
watch the curls drift.

There are thresholds we cross
when our mortal lives 
bump up against mysterious 
numinous realities
when paths we knew vanish
we find our feet on strange ways

thresholds - interstices
between matter and spirit
time and timeless
we come to our moments of reckoning
our assumptions beliefs knowledge 
finally to see they were all of them wrong

we may fear or welcome them

as priest I was called to the hospital
family wanting last rites for mother
I walked in the room 
black clothes white clerical collar
I was told she was comatose
my presence brought a terrified anguished cry
she knew her time was at hand 
she was meeting her threshold moment
she knew what my presence meant

in her last moments
my wife lived and breathed 
on the threshold of living and dying
watching and listening to her
we knew she was with us
as she was moving away from us
a time came when we no longer knew 
when she was still with us
when she was gone
though breathing still

I saw her on her mortal threshold
too often considered with fear and dread
that was not her way
she had prepared
she was ready
she smiled
said goodbye
crossed over.

not four years since Carol died
thirty two years together 
then she was gone
a hospice bed in our living room
two days before helping her up the stairs
in the morning sliding herself 
down the stairs on her bum
no complaint anger fear
I called for a hospice bed
a week before planning a trip to spain
her daughters going with her
days later with friends at a mountain home
sitting down to dinner
a bite maybe two
she pushed back from the table

I can't do it

She laid on the couch
it was not just dinner she could not do
it was living she could not do
she knew she did not have much time
she tried
down the mountain to the emergency room
waiting tests scans
we need to admit you 
two nights in the hospital
why did I not sleep in her room why
I went home
she lay in a hospital bed alone
two days wednesday morning
sitting up in her bed
her daughter with us
three doctors entered three
why three doctors
they needed to break bad news
news she already knew

it's my exploding liver

yes it's your exploding liver
her daughter crying
we drove home
that night I caught a glimpse of her
sitting on the floor of her closet
trying to get ready for bed
she could not do that standing up
weakness overcoming her
next day outside in autumn sunshine
nurse consult - palliative care or hospice
it was to be hospice
that night hard time getting up the stairs
we should not have done it
I could have made her comfortable
next morning she slid herself down the steps
sliding step by step down
hospice - we need a bed today

esophageal cancer january 2019
you need a major operation
esophagectomy 
second opinion
yes you need the major operation
remove part of your stomach
your esophagus
what would that mean
you need to keep what's left open
to get food to what's left of your stomach
how how do I do that
slide this long blue silicone thing down your throat
it will help keep the way open
how can I do that down my throat
you can do it
I watched I could barely watch
she did it first time
she kept doing it
I knew she did it when
I heard her coughing hard

up in the mountains
at dinner with friends
she couldn't do it anymore
none of it
the eating the silicone thing
the living
she knew

months before one of those scans
I went with her to review results
we sat in a shitty sterile exam room
waiting for her doctor
months before he said
you are a miracle
she was
transcriber with him
the look on her masked face told
transcriber knew 
did not want to be in that room
it 
spreading through your liver
your lungs
your sternum
metastasis
all the chemo radiation major surgery
it 
spreading
then I knew
what I believe she knew
but did not say
I am dying
there isn't anything more I can do
it
is taking my life
months later she pushed back from the table

I can't do it

one week later
all she dearly loved at her bedside
hospice bed in our living room
it
was happening fast
it
not cancer anymore
it
dying and very soon

for months she would say
something seems stuck in my throat
she told a doctor
you should get an endoscopy
all those months she complained 
swallowing problems
she got the endoscopy
it is cancer
your esophagus
you need chemo radiation
major surgery
you should go to this other doctor
she can do a special treatment
she had this treatment
that doctor said the treatment was good
it was not good
metastasis spreading
metastasis - it
she was losing weight
beautiful dress she found at goodwill
her daughter's wedding
beautiful still her bones stuck out

covid just around the corner
thanksgiving sitting at an outside fire with family
we had moved to Portland
to be near her daughters 
granddaughter
six years old when we arrived
I am so grateful we made that move

she had the major operation
much of her stomach esophagus
taken from her
slowly walking down hospital corridors
soft foods liquids
careful stair steps up and down
without complaint 
never saying I will beat it
it was not her way
cancer a part of her
not her enemy
her

we sat together by an outdoor fire in the backyard
she brought her journals
tossed one page after another into the flames

you can never read my journals

I never did
how many more journals I found 
after she was gone so many
I fed all the pages to the fire
hundreds of pages
burned them all
she colored in unlined books
three little books filled with drawings
in a hand like a child
pages of drawings
during her last nine months
it was blossoming inside her
I didn't know of her drawings
she did not show them to me
I found them after she was gone
so many drawings of bridges
bridges to cross over
she knew
she was getting ready to cross over
a book on the table between us
the grace in dying
I saw it but didn't say anything
she would tell me what I needed to know
I read all her underlining in that book
before I took her ashes down to white river
in the presence of tahoma
let them go into the swirling river waters
she always said
I have to be near mountains

I can't move

two days before she slid herself down the stairs
three weeks before at the Oregon coast
sitting on the beach by the fire
all family around the beach fire
sitting in her window seat
dunes ocean sky

I can't move

my caregiver support group
she is doing well
planning a trip to Spain with her daughters
next week
I have to tell you
she died

I think this is it

I can't move

I enrolled in a caregiver support group
I didn't tell her
I was afraid to
it would be admitting she needed a caregiver
one day I said
I've been in a caregiver support group
of course
that is what you are
why had I been afraid to tell her

I think this is it

her memorial service
older brother in the back corner
sobbing uncontrollably
oldest daughter sitting on the floor at my feet
supporting me as I told our friends 
her last moments last words

close to the end I stroked her bristled head
that feels good that feels good

we wandered all over italy together
ireland finland israel
france england scotland rhine river
prague with one daughter
camino with the other
france with daughters granddaughter 
always up for a trip anywhere
she had one more trip to take 

that feels good that feels good

we met in Carson City
her girls were little then
I did not know her well
she danced in church
formed a troupe of women
she was lovely and graceful
she danced wherever she could
our living room 
brushing her teeth
it didn't matter where
I went to a house party
she was there we talked
long time chatting
I did not want to stop talking
stop looking at her
she had sparkles in her hair
years later I asked
did you put sparkles in you hair that night
no that was just my hair
I went on to seminary
ordained a priest
years later
transferred to Reno
Carson City just down the road
we saw each other at a reception
we talked long we talked
priest and beautiful woman
together we drove to a friend's house
New Years 1990
I had already fallen for her
perhaps she for me
we married a year later

death doesn't stop the world
it's affairs go on
documents certificates wills
hardly a days rest from it all
mourning would take a back seat
a back seat also to seattle 
I had to start moving
why did I have to start moving
for better or worse
I had decided

this is how I wanted it to be
I love you all

heartbreaking scenes
I'd never told anyone
sliding herself down the stairs
one short trip in a wheelchair
hospice bed to bathroom
I helped her to the toilet 
she was not able to
wheelchair back to bed
helping her up
lifting her legs sliding them onto the bed
under the covers

I thought grieving was about her dying
so much more
all that we shared together
seeing her lovely face at table
knowing her sleeping beside me
I grieve my own loneliness
her not having the full life she wanted
see her granddaughter graduate
maybe great-grandkids
I mourn my loss
my life companion
my best friend 
my spiritual soulmate

I am finally taking time away 
from doing one thing after another
moving selling stuff giving stuff away
accumulation of stuff from a lifetime with another
so many of her things
me making daughters and granddaughter 
sixteen years old
come to look through her things
to see what they would take
where is granddaughter 
in the bathroom crying
more than an hour
why did I put her through that
why didn't I slow down wait

I didn't wait
I am here now
I can't make it up
I mourn for what I might have done better

we were all at her bedside
she lay dying
raising her up to take morphine under her tongue

help 
barely whispered

we hadn't given her enough morphine
she didn't need to feel that pain
her eyes closed
clear cool day late September 
lowering sun out the front window
ponderosa pine japanese maple
late afternoon
for some stupid reason I was doing the laundry
what was wrong with me
it was Saturday I felt I had to do the damn laundry
I told everyone I was going downstairs 
to get the laundry the stupid laundry
as my wife was so near death

wait - I heard her daughter say
something has changed

the hospice nurse had come
she is in comatose state
her breathing deep raspy
chest heaving

wait 
something has changed
 
I turned to see her body become
calm quiet still
four breaths 
they were her body's last

is she dead
yes she is

September 24 2022
she had worked so hard 
ten thousand steps 
outside around the dining table
into the living room
short walk we took near the house
so close just around the corner
she had to stop sit rest
before turning the corner

she couldn't move 
eyes closed
we knew her end was near
she opened her eyes
smiled
faintest smile

hello

her eyes opened to the window
where the trees were 
autumn low light through the trees
branches and leaves
blue sky

hello
hello

no one dared ask who's there

goodbye

she closed her lips smile gone
she said goodbye
hello to who we could not know
goodbye dear
she was gone
I try to imagine who she saw
of course I'll not know
she was faithful to her spiritual path
perhaps dame julian or brother francis
I remain on my path
trying to be faithful to my way and her memory

her body ended its work after a time
by then she
who she was 
had left us 
soul essence spirit flew
her body took time
winding down it's beautiful work
we sat talking crying
I called hospice
she is gone
she said goodbye 

I have stepped back
needing to do so
for my self
to regain myself
what now?
I'll sit awhile. 
I have time
as much as I need.
How much do I need?
I cannot know
until it appears
be it in mind
circumstance
change.
I will know
if
I move not so fast
as before I have.
I bow before what is.