Abraham Lincoln said "I do not control events. Events control me." And so it is with nearly all of us.
I had planned to sit here tonight and write an essay on the American worker and the current state that surrounds them -- and to explain my thoughts on how it is a situation that is more complex than I would like it to be.
But a phone call earlier this evening changed all that and now, after some hours of contemplation, and another hour of letting the product of that contemplation spill out onto the electronic page, I find myself preparing to post something that, otherwise, I would never consider doing.
Why I am doing it, I can't really explain, other than to say that I somehow wish it to maybe give someone else comfort.
Writing that sounds trite and superficial, but how else can it be expressed?
With my most sincere apoligies, I hope you dn't mind.
Traci
It’s one of those things
Plans made, best intentions
We’ll get together soon, promise.
We’ll take that canoe trip we’ve been planning;
You can show me the hiking trails
That you’ve told me about.
Plans made, best intentions
Gone to waste now
Because a tree came down.
I imagine it, ancient – majestic –
The kind we would have
Pointed out and admired;
Maybe photographed – you better than I.
I hope only that it was quick.
I see you there, in the car,
Trying to stop, trying to swerve.
But maybe you didn’t have time.
Maybe it happened before you could react
And you knew nothing about it.
I hope it was like that.
And then, suddenly, all those plans
All the intentions
Don’t matter. They’ll
Simply sit on a shelf
Inside my mind, like books
I’ve meant to read
But never got round to it.
We had – oh what a cliché! –
A special sort of thing, you know.
A love that wasn’t “Love”
A relationship that was loose
And casual
Free,
I think is the word I want.
We never would – could – have been
A “couple”
Oh god! That would have been terrible!
But we never could have been completely
Apart from each other.
Brother and Sister?
Best friends?
Soul mates?
(I really hate that term, you know)
It doesn’t matter.
To put a title to it would
Be to ruin it.
But I remember your wedding day
How happy you were
And how happy I was that you were happy.
He was just the right man for you,
And you proved that by loving him
And letting him love you.
After that, you moved away
To be with him
And we didn’t see so much of each other.
I still thought of you often,
And I know you thought of me as well.
But our lives traveled different paths.
You with family –
Two children that were the
Soul of your life
And a husband who
Meant more to you than everything put together.
I with my studies –
Head buried in a book, as always
And my little distractions.
Funny how they can become so
Dominant over us
And keep us from the important things.
But I felt myself there in your heart
And hope you felt yourself in mine
Because you were always there.
Part of me wants to grieve;
To cry or something
To try to show that I’m sorry
You’re gone.
And I feel guilty that, when I try,
It feels fake and contrived.
Are you angry with me for that?
You see, every time I feel
That lump in my throat
Or that quiver in my lips
Or the tear welling in my eye,
I think about the times we had
Oh! Marvelous times!
I think about the adventures –
Time we thought we were going to die together
Or, well, at least be banged up a bit.
And times that we laughed ourselves into convulsions
Over some stupid trivia that hardly mattered.
Or the times when we would notice
That the other was “not quite right”
And would ask “what’s wrong?”
Knowing that there would be no reply.
And then we’d wait . . .
We knew the answer would come eventually.
And we would give each other our souls
To hold and comfort and
Bring back into the light.
And the times when we were angry!
Your temper was a match for my own
And when they flared,
How the others would run!
Literally run!
It was at those times when we found it hard to stay angry
And not laugh at them.
But we always knew that it was our tempers
And not our hearts
That were fighting.
Even then . . . even then
There were no better times, ever.
And that’s why my grief is only shallow
And momentary.
How can I grieve when I have had such a treasure as you?
How can I be sorry that you have been in my life?
For to mourn your loss
Would be to deny your presence.
It would be ungrateful to ignore
The very special ness that I was
Privileged to have.
I will miss those things we said we’d do –
The plans made and the best intentions.
But you gave existence life
And filled that life with jewels
Of memories and
And your being there.
How can I turn my back on that
By filling my heart with sorrow?
Do I wish you were still here
To do all those things?
Of course, I do.
But the part of you that is you
And the part of you that you gave to me
Is here, and is me.
Thank you says nothing.
“I love you” needn’t be said.
“I miss you” is senseless and obvious.
So go, now, to wherever you must go.
And take with you my love,
For I will love no one as I love you.
But leave with me that part
You gave me all those years ago;
And that you’ve let me keep,
Safely tucked away
Where only we knew to look
And that always made me know
You were near.
Do that,
And there will be no need
For tears.
