Dear Friends,
I hope you’re doing well. Our family has been spending as much time as possible with my father-in-law who is nearing the end of his life. He is on hospice, living in a lovely facility with the best care. It has been difficult to witness his body failing, but the silver lining is that spending more time with him has been a gift – these moments have given us room to prepare for the inevitable. When he is lucid on occasion, the gift is even greater.
Writing poetry during my break has been soothing. This surreal experience has been emotional for all of us, but if it inspires me to write, my husband feels it’s a beautiful thing. I was motivated to try a Haibun for the first time after reading D.L. Finn’s gorgeous poetry book, Deep in the Forest Where Poetry Blooms. I loved her collection and will share a review and a couple others in the next few weeks.
This piece may not qualify as a Haibun, but it’s a beginning…
The Last Days
The outdoor temperature feels like a summer day in August though ghosts and goblins lurk around the bend. The orange ball shines brilliantly lighting up the clear blue sky. But inside his room, death awaits in the corners – a dreary atmosphere until we turn on lights to uplift our spirits. Classical music drifts out the windows, swirling around the trees and gardens still bursting with reds and oranges. Photos of family and friends, and ball caps from favorite sports teams embellish the bare white walls.
He lies in bed each day, body frail. A vision we hope will fade over time. A vision contrasting to the man who hiked mountains. The small clock ticking on the bedside table and the calendar hanging on the wall irrelevant. His words, an untranslatable language. His appetite, diminished, but it’s time for breakfast, so we pull the lids from each tub. He slightly opens his mouth like a mama bird feeds her chick, and we gently hold the spoon so he can take in tiny bites of pureed eggs and oatmeal. The tubs still look full, but so is his stomach. Sleep calls him. His chest slowly moves up and down with soft breaths. We stretch out this moment, then we lay a kiss on his forehead, tell him that we love him and that we’ll see him later. We steal one more glance at Dad, then we slowly walk out the door with tears struggling for freedom.
a routine until
he slowly draws his last breath
preparing our hearts
**A Haibun is a combination of prose and haiku, and usually includes autobiography, diary, essay, prose poem, short story, or travel journal.
© Lauren Scott, Baydreamerwrites.com – All rights reserved.
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Baydreamer Writes ~ Lauren Scott, Author & Poet 