I wish that I had a well-marked path to follow.

One with signs that said, “nirvana straight ahead.”

Instead, I hear whispers to “follow me” or shouts of warning “don’t go there.”

Of course, the voice sounds familiar, as familiar as my own

I am tired and feel faint when I test the limits of my strength and endurance.

I am frightened when I wake up from a wrestling match with my sheets.

I am eating too much and not enough of the things that elders should snack on.

I am confused about what I want out of life.

I have come to realize that life expects less out of me in my 70’s. 

If only I were in an ashram sitting under Buddha’s tree,

if only I were sipping wine in the vineyard of a villa in the south of France,

if only I were on a road trip crisscrossing the country from one roadside attraction to another

If only I were on a yacht off the Florida keys, watching the dolphins leap into the air

or paddling in a kayak, making my way along the rivers from town to town

If only I met someone who understood me and I them

Understood me as you did as well as you knew the back of your own hand.

If i had a friend, If I had a community,

I am alone a lot, I am not bad company, It is quiet here and somehow I have more time to myself than I can ever remember. I am never bored. I find things to occupy my time.

My hobbies have become my solace, I write, I ride, I photograph.

I wish that I had a well-marked path to follow.

One with signs that said “nirvana straight ahead.”

Instead, I hear whispers to “follow me” or shouts of warning “don’t go there.”

Of course the voice sounds familiar, as familiar as my own

She loved the fog, and I loved her

Born on Thistle Street in the Gorbals of Glasgow

Footsteps from the river Clyde

She took no shelter from the storms, 

The booms of thunder gave her comfort. 

She’d toss open windows to hear them clearly

Lightning lit her beauty against the shadows of the night. 

In the fog of early morning, she gazed into the dimness 

I peer into the mists this morning

And hope to catch a glimpse of her as she slips away.

When the student is ready the teacher will appear. When the student is truly ready the teacher will disappear. 

I am blessed and I am grateful. I have learned so much. My most impactful teacher was and still is my bride. For decades we studied and learned the cycle of life together; the sowing and reaping, the blossoms of spring and the harvests of autumn. After our fair share of tragedy, we built a family and bought a little house too small for the four of us but more than adequate for me and my memories today. 

Together we learned to be friends, lovers, parents and somewhere along the way adults but she never lost the child in her. Her moods were my muse and I sought with my writing to chart them like the constellations in the night sky.  She was so graceful and my heart is still inextricably connected to the image of her smile; lighting up her face, lighting up the room, lighting up my soul. 

Almost a year after her passing, I am still recounting the lessons she taught me. She tried to prepare me for this time, a time when her kisses would be memories and the imprint of her body pressed to mine would be so faint as to make me wonder if it ever happened. 

So, hard fought lessons learned, I rise early and chant a mantra to her spirit, trace the lines of her form with my poems, capture sights in photographs that I know would make her ooh and aah. I drive to the gym to sweat, grunt and groan. She used to make me run back and forth in the glassed encased rooms where a paddle and a little black ball were the instruments of my destruction. 

I keep busy at night, seeing movies, making the rounds,  outings with friends, wandering the holiday fairs in Manhattan alone, but busy. I have traveled to Newport and San Francisco, staying at the finest hotels, knowing she would have loved the feel of the robe and slippers. 

When the student is ready the teacher will appear. When the student is truly ready the teacher will disappear. 

I am blessed and I am grateful. I have learned so much but still feel like I am a novice as I learn to navigate this world alone. I know that this is the lesson, the capstone of all lessons that she was trying to teach me. I close my eyes and see her, half smile on her lips shaking her head and letting me know in her way that the one lesson not yet mastered is that life is too important to be taken seriously and I vow to add some silliness, some ridiculousness and laughter to my daily routine. 

I know I still have so much to learn.

Loving you was effortless

Dodging your moods took some skill

Turning a smile into a thunderous laugh

Was a walk in the park

Soothing your fears

Took a run up a hill!

Those of us who are of a certain age, our children grown, with children of their own, wake to find another dear friend gone, and it doesn’t take an Einstein or Thoreau to realize that the loss you suffered when she cast away her human form, is universal to all who mourn and we must rise above our own distress and comfort those whose wounds are fresh.

To all the loved ones of those no longer at our side, please hold each other in a fierce embrace and wail and cry and raise your fist against the sky and then with griefs sweet release think deep and hard about the gifts our loved ones gave to us and nurture their wondrous legacy, and add its riches to the treasure chests where we keep the mirror of whom we hoped we’d grow to be and like Nobel remake our destiny for those who will remember thee.

And if we pass this tradition on, the wisdom and the joy of those no longer here will be present in those that we hold dear and on and on their spirit will be carried through the march of time into infinity.