Gratitude is a “thing” for the 2020s Era, but it is also a very powerful tool.
This way of seeing and being opens us up to joy and enjoyment.
I feel free to be grateful even for my sadness and my sorrow.
With that, I feel even greater gratitude for pleasures, joys, and enjoyments.
Burt is the one suffering, but he shows gratitude and appreciation.
The journey is hard, but I experience it upright and [for the most part] standing steady.
I am grateful to have outlets; I also appreciate the others in my support groups who work to understand their journey in caring.
I write, I journal, I try to make sense and keep perspective on our journey.
I am also grateful for the gift that my skill at writing has become. I use that gift not just to document our life but in poems and essays beyond that.
This poem belongs in both my worlds. It’s sad, and it brings me joy.
Your memories
He told me all his stories, so
That when this day came, I’d
Be the one who remembered.
This older poem touches what meaning memories play in our lives. They connect us to our shared past, but they are not who we are or were.
I remember
Memories, his,
Mine, and ours,
Overlap neatly,
Sometimes, other
Times the edges
Don’t match, the
Fillings spill
Out, fall away
And crumble, as
Ephemeral as the
Air and passing
Into a jumbled
Past, celebrated
But forgotten.
Remind me when,
Remind me what
this is our life 