The end of the dreaded month

Many folks suggested we move out of our house after Paul died there, but it wouldn't have made a difference. He is everywhere. So, to end this dreaded month, here's the poem I wrote at Esalen last July. -- about seeing him everywhere. It's a topic I have come back to over and over.

And, perhaps with a new month starting tomorrow, the topic will also be new.

Today I Saw You on the Hill

Just after my morning walk on the highway
up to South Coast,
just after my relaxing soak in the big corner bath,
just as I start my trudge up the hill,
towel in hand ready to dump in the box,
I see you engrossed in a conversation.

I know you instantly
the buzz cut
the long sideburns
the slight build
the intense blue eyes
giving full attention
to your friend
as you talk.

Today for some reason
the clothes are wrong.
Instead of your Doc Martins
you wear bright striped sneakers
Instead of the brown leather book bag
slung across your body
that I bought you for school
you have a backpack.
Still I know it is you.

Like on the other days when I see you
in your dark gray sweater
or black jacket
and levis crossing the street
or on the pier
or at the piano
or sitting outside Starbucks.
Like when I see you at work,
young, brilliant, and so sure of yourself,
I have no doubts.

Please go on, my beautiful boy.
Give it a rest.
I don’t want to think about you here
I don’t want to write about you anymore
I’ve written about you ad nauseum
and still you won’t leave me alone.
Even here among the hummingbirds
and the pines and salt air
I’m not safe.

You’re dead. Your choice.
So stop bothering me already.
If you wanted to stay in my life
and bother me
why did you choose to die?

House progress -- week of September 21

New fence and gate -- prestain stage





Color tests in preparation for next week's painting and staining. Could it be almost finished at last?

The first day of the eleventh year

We went to the cemetery yesterday to visit Paul’s grave. We couldn’t find it right away, and my mind jumped to the thought that he wasn’t dead after all and of course it wouldn’t be there.

But that was just a fleeting thought. It was there – right in front of me. It had ants crawling all over it, and I wondered why they had chosen his gravestone and not the others. Could it be that he was so much younger and more succulent than the other dead people around him who all died in their 80s and 90s. Another silly thought because everyone around him had been reduced to ashes as well. All the succulence burned out of every last one of them.

It’s always anticlimactic to go to the cemetery. I worry over it, I think about it for days before, and then once I’m there, I lay down a stone, touch it, brush away a bit of the dust, shed a tear or two, and then we go. We spend maybe five minutes in all, and we drive away.

Writing poems about him seems more productive. Here is yesterday's tweet.

139
The color purple
Cat Stevens
Zen parables
Dungeons and Dragons
teeny trains
Mr. Rogers
Legos
fishing
formed his young years
until music took over.

Another tweet for Paul

140
Only one more day and
it will be ten years
since we found him
and knew we would never
hug him, kiss him
or have to worry about him
ever again.

Skin and cure

Last Monday, the 14th, the house got the skin coat. When I got home that night I thought I was having a deja vu experience -- my white rough surfaced house still looked like a strawberry ice cream sundae. But after two days of drying time the real transformation began -- application of colored stucco.


Skin

However, upon seeing the first completed section I had more angst -- the color looked way too dark - though the surface is indeed silky smoothe.


Cure - Day 1

In fact it looked like chocolate brown instead of light mustard. We called the contractor and he assured us our color choice would emerge after a week of curing -- or longer depending on the weather.


Cure - Day 4


Cure - Day 4

And, today, after 4 days our color is slowly coming through. Now wouldn't it have been nice to know a little bit about this skin and cure process at the outset? As far as I knew before we got started, skin and cure were just terms from a cookbook.

More short poems

And, all for Paul.

140
Cell phones, iPods, TIVO, DVDs, Wii,
arrived since he left.
But, his beloved vinyl records
still prevail. He knew what technology
would survive.

140
I would love to show him my iPhone
he’d figure it out immediately.
He’d know the Apps to choose
and within a minute or two
he’d make it his own.

140
I was shocked to learn
Joplin, Hendricks
and Morrison all died
at 28 in 1971
the year of Paul’s birth.
Paul was 3 months shy
of 28 when he died.

More 140 character poems - remembering Paul

The 10th anniversary of his death is soon.

140
Even after 10 years I know
by the first note
it is Paul’s music. I try to listen,
but, usually I press the forward button
and shuffle through.


140
The sands of time don’t heal.
The memories, good and bad,
don’t leave
don’t lesson the pain I feel every day
even after living with it
10 years.