I love anything Robert Frost. I'm dreading even the half empty nest when our daughter who is currently a junior will leave home. In fact, we remodeled her bedroom and gave her an attached bathroom just to sweeten the deal of staying home longer. I think we've convinced her to take a gap year, but I know I'm just prolonging the inevitable. This year, she went on a trip to Thailand with her school during spring break. I cried all the way to the airport to drop her off and all the way home, not because she would be gone for the week, but because of how I imagine it will feel when this is a more permanent departure. Not sure I'm designed to handle this sort of thing. Very much looking forward to your musings come September, Susan. When the time comes for her to go, I'll probably reread Bittersweet as therapy. 🥲
The problem I still not able to distinguish between poetry and poem unless I translate the two words. Poem is the person why says the poetry and poetry is the group of words are said by the poem.
Last fall my mother went into hospice care for a diagnosis none of us saw coming. I assumed there would be no more Christmas Eves together, no more birthdays, etc., and began to mourn that loss. Well, she lived through WWII in Germany as a child, and apparently this diagnosis was not going to get the better of her. She's no longer in hospice. We've celebrated another Christmas Eve, celebrated another of her birthdays, and because I live close I am able to visit and take her out to buy fresh flowers (her favorite) and some special foods she likes--both things she can no longer do for herself since she had to sell her house, no longer has a garden, and eats in her assisted living facility. It takes a lot of time out of my day to visit with her and take her places, but I am enjoying every moment of it, because this unexpected time together feels not at all like a responsibility but completely like a gift.
At the time she went into hospice, our oldest was applying to college and I started to feel a larger sense of loss. Now college is settled and I know exactly when he is leaving the house, and it is clear that it is going to be a huge adjustment for me, even knowing that this is a truly wonderful transition and time for him. But even with the anticipation of grief, I am cherishing every moment with him until then. Knowing that I am facing the "loss" of both these precious people in my life is painful, but at the same time, it does make these moments ones to savor, and richer for that. I know there will be grief on the horizon, but I'm not going to spend time and energy on it right now, if at all possible. This poem was a beautiful reminder of that, and of the fact that life does hand us new beauty and new possibilities, even if they are not evident at the time of loss.
Having just turned 73 (interesting term that we use .."turned"... Turning into another phase of life while leaving the former), I feel a sense of loss frequently as I continue on this path of aging. Losing everything that we tend to hold onto in our youth and feeling the reality of mortality in a much deeper way...I feel the bittersweetness of it all, if I may borrow that word.... And gratitude, mixed with a lot of tears, for each moment, each morning I wake up, each random act of kindness or smile from a stranger, each breath I take, each tear that I shed. I feel alone much of the time with these feelings, yet also connected to others as we are all on this path. I find myself coming face to face with all the issues I have carried in my life, and see that self-forgiveness is one of the final tasks that I face. To come face to face with our humanity, our flaws, our regrets... And still forgive and accept... To find that that elusive inner peace... To come full circle where we realize that the love we've been seeking is from inside ourselves.... That gold has been inside us all along.
My lessons from empty nesting came in through the back door. My experience when I had to get my own ride to start independent life was overshadowed by my mothers' intention to taste her new freedom. I left yearning for something home represented. Granted it was hard to do more than a Sunday evening call, but I was struggling with the transition. By the time my youngest left we had texting, and I had matured to conversations where both parties valued listening. In fact, the ride together with her packed essentials was a practiced form of road trips where the more miles the more talk emerged between us. The gold for me is the relationship shifting with my children. Today I am visiting with my youngest, and she is a year into living with a partner. This letting go is another reminder of what is to gain by knowing my child as she navigates her way to career and family. It is also time for me to retire from my work/career. I have the gift of my own time- It is a freedom and a challenge. I feel the spring variations of green emerging are like hues of hope. My garden will grow. I know that. I find myself digging in the dirt with a niggling feeling I have something to learn from what I plant.
Fully savoring the gold forsythia and daffodils that look like spring popcorn all along my commute through the woods! These early bloomers are dear to me bc they encourage the emergence of other plants (and people).
Some time ago, a photo of a kitten sniffing geraniums was posted with the caption "Lovely things come and go...but they come" and I love that. Photo of it hanging on my fridge, in fact.
Ooooh, I love this post...and this gorgeous poem (in fact, I wrote a song based on it several years ago and plan to release it on an upcoming album). Re: what is gold - my aging pup comes to mind first. He's nearly 14; besides his waning teeth he's in good health. I have a motto for aging animal companions: no tears before their time. There's plenty of time to grieve later, so I try to be more like my dog and live in the moment, try to give him the good life he deserves.
My new form is moving to a new house/nearby city this fall. For me this is a fresh start and I feel like opening up my world through my art, community relationships, friendships and new experiences.
What hasn't stayed: relationships that are harmful to my mental health and spiritual growth. Good riddance!
My precious pug Sigrid will be 13 in June, but thankfully, like your pup, is in good health. I love your mantra, No tears before their time, and will be reciting that frequently to stay in the moment and enjoy every belly scratch and snore as they come. 💙
I wish Sigrid many more years of good health and belly scratches! My motto served me well with my previous two dogs, but I sure did a lot of crying afterwards.
This has been a favorite poem for so many years. I remind myself of that beautiful line, "nothing gold can stay," whenever I feel discouraged when something or someone has left or been lost. Especially this week, this is the fifth anniversary of my sister's passing. She was my best friend, and this poem reminds me that although I do miss her, I believe I savored the golden time I had with her. Thank you for sharing this beautiful sentiment, Susan. It's a beautiful poem!
I recently sold my farm in southern Ohio and moved to the Chicago area to be near my grandson. I lost a farm, gained a grandson. In the overall scheme of life, my grandson is the more important of the two. But that’s not to say that the farm was not a great loss. The loss of a lifestyle that I loved, that was good for my mental health, and that created so many memories and stories has been difficult to navigate.
Gosh this hits hard today. Each day I feel more like disappearing…like the golden is gone and I need to cocoon for a bit to recover for what is next. I’m finding I mourn the relevance I felt when I was working discounting that what I do now could be considered work albeit a joyful creative work whose payment is made in tears of happiness when the different creations are delivered. Anyhow…as always…there is my ramble. Feeling a bit like there is a new season on my horizon if I just stay patient.
The poignancy of this poem resonates deeply today. I'm in the midst of book promotion for my debut novel that I wrote in the aftermath of my sweet mom's passing. I threaded her personality and heart into several of the characters, along with the setting, loads of the emotion that was coursing through me. The time we got at the end of her life, the memories we made, I cherish it all. And yet, having made a creative offering of my grief (paraphrasing your powerful passage in Bittersweet), the bittersweetness of it all...my gosh, it remains. Of course it does. As I'm telling the story of this novel, talking about the characters, some of whom are so reminiscent of my mom, it seems I'm steeped in the grief sometimes...that slope can be slippery as we know. It's not when I'm talking about the book, because it just feels like she's close then. It's later, at a remove from the discussion when the heaviness weighs anew. And, she was golden, my mom...so this poem...I don't know, it just really hit today in the tenderest, loveliest kind of way. Thank you. And after enjoying The Quiet Life from afar I finally became a subscriber today. In reading the comments, I think my people are here. :)
I remember this poem also from school… beautiful. Life is full of loss. My first experience being my grandma. That seemed natural, like it was the natural order of things even though i was only 16. When i was 51 my sister passed away from stage 4 breast cancer. She was 50. Years earlier she introduced me to you and gave me the book “quiet” and said “i found a book about me!”
Her death was a human death, but we also have paschal deaths… the death of a dream, a marriage, the loss of our youth. All are life changing. But each can open us to new life in different ways if we let our hearts be open.
I decided the best present I could give to myself on my 83 rd Birthday is a companion dog…as I searched through the rescue dogs, it brought to mind the losses of immigrants of war , those in our country being deported…all those without homes. Weeks went by…and then I read about a special needs little dog , not quite 2 years, who was going to be euthanized, but was hoping someone may give him a home with love and care… I have always been a caregiver , from the age of 5 years, actually. So, my sweet husband and I went to pick him up. We have had him for 3 weeks now, and have , the 3 of us , connected in a “special needs” way. We don’t know what the future holds , but we know the present moment is filled with patient, loving moments that grab our hearts and give an abundance of Gold! Thank you for this beautiful Poem.
I remember reciting this poem in a class in grade school. Thank you for reminding me of it today! I love this topic because it is something that I need to be reminded of a lot. As someone who fears future losses, I find that reminding myself that I have come this far in my life having experienced many losses is important information. I am here today and I enjoyed feeding the animals/wildlife in my backyard this morning. There were many days in the last 4 years that I did not think I would ever enjoy another day again. Thankfully, nature makes me resilient. This poem reminds me of resilience.
I was just thinking about this. Yesterday, while I watched how happy my 2 girls are playing with my father in-law (they both call her "Tata").
We always go for lunch on Sundays, and while my mother in-law always prepares a simple yet delicious homemade meal, my father in-law always has new toys for the girls, and creates new games for them, always a fun new idea for them to laugh and play.
And it just dawned on me... in a few years they won't be here with us. My in-laws house will be empty. The table won't have all six of us. My 2 girls won't have their Tata to play. It made me sad yet I embrace the beauty of these moments that looks so fleeting, yet so simple and filled with joy.
I love anything Robert Frost. I'm dreading even the half empty nest when our daughter who is currently a junior will leave home. In fact, we remodeled her bedroom and gave her an attached bathroom just to sweeten the deal of staying home longer. I think we've convinced her to take a gap year, but I know I'm just prolonging the inevitable. This year, she went on a trip to Thailand with her school during spring break. I cried all the way to the airport to drop her off and all the way home, not because she would be gone for the week, but because of how I imagine it will feel when this is a more permanent departure. Not sure I'm designed to handle this sort of thing. Very much looking forward to your musings come September, Susan. When the time comes for her to go, I'll probably reread Bittersweet as therapy. 🥲
The problem I still not able to distinguish between poetry and poem unless I translate the two words. Poem is the person why says the poetry and poetry is the group of words are said by the poem.
Last fall my mother went into hospice care for a diagnosis none of us saw coming. I assumed there would be no more Christmas Eves together, no more birthdays, etc., and began to mourn that loss. Well, she lived through WWII in Germany as a child, and apparently this diagnosis was not going to get the better of her. She's no longer in hospice. We've celebrated another Christmas Eve, celebrated another of her birthdays, and because I live close I am able to visit and take her out to buy fresh flowers (her favorite) and some special foods she likes--both things she can no longer do for herself since she had to sell her house, no longer has a garden, and eats in her assisted living facility. It takes a lot of time out of my day to visit with her and take her places, but I am enjoying every moment of it, because this unexpected time together feels not at all like a responsibility but completely like a gift.
At the time she went into hospice, our oldest was applying to college and I started to feel a larger sense of loss. Now college is settled and I know exactly when he is leaving the house, and it is clear that it is going to be a huge adjustment for me, even knowing that this is a truly wonderful transition and time for him. But even with the anticipation of grief, I am cherishing every moment with him until then. Knowing that I am facing the "loss" of both these precious people in my life is painful, but at the same time, it does make these moments ones to savor, and richer for that. I know there will be grief on the horizon, but I'm not going to spend time and energy on it right now, if at all possible. This poem was a beautiful reminder of that, and of the fact that life does hand us new beauty and new possibilities, even if they are not evident at the time of loss.
Having just turned 73 (interesting term that we use .."turned"... Turning into another phase of life while leaving the former), I feel a sense of loss frequently as I continue on this path of aging. Losing everything that we tend to hold onto in our youth and feeling the reality of mortality in a much deeper way...I feel the bittersweetness of it all, if I may borrow that word.... And gratitude, mixed with a lot of tears, for each moment, each morning I wake up, each random act of kindness or smile from a stranger, each breath I take, each tear that I shed. I feel alone much of the time with these feelings, yet also connected to others as we are all on this path. I find myself coming face to face with all the issues I have carried in my life, and see that self-forgiveness is one of the final tasks that I face. To come face to face with our humanity, our flaws, our regrets... And still forgive and accept... To find that that elusive inner peace... To come full circle where we realize that the love we've been seeking is from inside ourselves.... That gold has been inside us all along.
My lessons from empty nesting came in through the back door. My experience when I had to get my own ride to start independent life was overshadowed by my mothers' intention to taste her new freedom. I left yearning for something home represented. Granted it was hard to do more than a Sunday evening call, but I was struggling with the transition. By the time my youngest left we had texting, and I had matured to conversations where both parties valued listening. In fact, the ride together with her packed essentials was a practiced form of road trips where the more miles the more talk emerged between us. The gold for me is the relationship shifting with my children. Today I am visiting with my youngest, and she is a year into living with a partner. This letting go is another reminder of what is to gain by knowing my child as she navigates her way to career and family. It is also time for me to retire from my work/career. I have the gift of my own time- It is a freedom and a challenge. I feel the spring variations of green emerging are like hues of hope. My garden will grow. I know that. I find myself digging in the dirt with a niggling feeling I have something to learn from what I plant.
Fully savoring the gold forsythia and daffodils that look like spring popcorn all along my commute through the woods! These early bloomers are dear to me bc they encourage the emergence of other plants (and people).
Some time ago, a photo of a kitten sniffing geraniums was posted with the caption "Lovely things come and go...but they come" and I love that. Photo of it hanging on my fridge, in fact.
Ooooh, I love this post...and this gorgeous poem (in fact, I wrote a song based on it several years ago and plan to release it on an upcoming album). Re: what is gold - my aging pup comes to mind first. He's nearly 14; besides his waning teeth he's in good health. I have a motto for aging animal companions: no tears before their time. There's plenty of time to grieve later, so I try to be more like my dog and live in the moment, try to give him the good life he deserves.
My new form is moving to a new house/nearby city this fall. For me this is a fresh start and I feel like opening up my world through my art, community relationships, friendships and new experiences.
What hasn't stayed: relationships that are harmful to my mental health and spiritual growth. Good riddance!
My precious pug Sigrid will be 13 in June, but thankfully, like your pup, is in good health. I love your mantra, No tears before their time, and will be reciting that frequently to stay in the moment and enjoy every belly scratch and snore as they come. 💙
I wish Sigrid many more years of good health and belly scratches! My motto served me well with my previous two dogs, but I sure did a lot of crying afterwards.
This has been a favorite poem for so many years. I remind myself of that beautiful line, "nothing gold can stay," whenever I feel discouraged when something or someone has left or been lost. Especially this week, this is the fifth anniversary of my sister's passing. She was my best friend, and this poem reminds me that although I do miss her, I believe I savored the golden time I had with her. Thank you for sharing this beautiful sentiment, Susan. It's a beautiful poem!
I recently sold my farm in southern Ohio and moved to the Chicago area to be near my grandson. I lost a farm, gained a grandson. In the overall scheme of life, my grandson is the more important of the two. But that’s not to say that the farm was not a great loss. The loss of a lifestyle that I loved, that was good for my mental health, and that created so many memories and stories has been difficult to navigate.
Gosh this hits hard today. Each day I feel more like disappearing…like the golden is gone and I need to cocoon for a bit to recover for what is next. I’m finding I mourn the relevance I felt when I was working discounting that what I do now could be considered work albeit a joyful creative work whose payment is made in tears of happiness when the different creations are delivered. Anyhow…as always…there is my ramble. Feeling a bit like there is a new season on my horizon if I just stay patient.
The poignancy of this poem resonates deeply today. I'm in the midst of book promotion for my debut novel that I wrote in the aftermath of my sweet mom's passing. I threaded her personality and heart into several of the characters, along with the setting, loads of the emotion that was coursing through me. The time we got at the end of her life, the memories we made, I cherish it all. And yet, having made a creative offering of my grief (paraphrasing your powerful passage in Bittersweet), the bittersweetness of it all...my gosh, it remains. Of course it does. As I'm telling the story of this novel, talking about the characters, some of whom are so reminiscent of my mom, it seems I'm steeped in the grief sometimes...that slope can be slippery as we know. It's not when I'm talking about the book, because it just feels like she's close then. It's later, at a remove from the discussion when the heaviness weighs anew. And, she was golden, my mom...so this poem...I don't know, it just really hit today in the tenderest, loveliest kind of way. Thank you. And after enjoying The Quiet Life from afar I finally became a subscriber today. In reading the comments, I think my people are here. :)
I remember this poem also from school… beautiful. Life is full of loss. My first experience being my grandma. That seemed natural, like it was the natural order of things even though i was only 16. When i was 51 my sister passed away from stage 4 breast cancer. She was 50. Years earlier she introduced me to you and gave me the book “quiet” and said “i found a book about me!”
Her death was a human death, but we also have paschal deaths… the death of a dream, a marriage, the loss of our youth. All are life changing. But each can open us to new life in different ways if we let our hearts be open.
I decided the best present I could give to myself on my 83 rd Birthday is a companion dog…as I searched through the rescue dogs, it brought to mind the losses of immigrants of war , those in our country being deported…all those without homes. Weeks went by…and then I read about a special needs little dog , not quite 2 years, who was going to be euthanized, but was hoping someone may give him a home with love and care… I have always been a caregiver , from the age of 5 years, actually. So, my sweet husband and I went to pick him up. We have had him for 3 weeks now, and have , the 3 of us , connected in a “special needs” way. We don’t know what the future holds , but we know the present moment is filled with patient, loving moments that grab our hearts and give an abundance of Gold! Thank you for this beautiful Poem.
I remember reciting this poem in a class in grade school. Thank you for reminding me of it today! I love this topic because it is something that I need to be reminded of a lot. As someone who fears future losses, I find that reminding myself that I have come this far in my life having experienced many losses is important information. I am here today and I enjoyed feeding the animals/wildlife in my backyard this morning. There were many days in the last 4 years that I did not think I would ever enjoy another day again. Thankfully, nature makes me resilient. This poem reminds me of resilience.
We may not be able to rewrite the script we were handed as children, but we
can revise it. And maybe, just maybe, we can sit across from our own
children—or our own younger selves—and say:
"This time, you don’t have to suffer. You don’t have to do anything just
because someone told you to".
This time, you get to choose.
I was just thinking about this. Yesterday, while I watched how happy my 2 girls are playing with my father in-law (they both call her "Tata").
We always go for lunch on Sundays, and while my mother in-law always prepares a simple yet delicious homemade meal, my father in-law always has new toys for the girls, and creates new games for them, always a fun new idea for them to laugh and play.
And it just dawned on me... in a few years they won't be here with us. My in-laws house will be empty. The table won't have all six of us. My 2 girls won't have their Tata to play. It made me sad yet I embrace the beauty of these moments that looks so fleeting, yet so simple and filled with joy.