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My First, and Perhaps My Last, Haibun Creation

by Jeffrey Parren

I'd like to think there couldn't be any amount of preparation for a loved one dying and leaving me forever, but in the case of my mother, I have been growing up knowing that she was both fragile and not going to be around for a long time. Years of Diabetes and various related ailments have taken its toll. It started two Fridays ago, as I come to learn. She was asking for her towel; she already had her towel; she wanted her bathrobe. The words were already escaping a damaged mind. It was her last day at home, ever.

awake no longer
tuesday was the last time she
called me "honey bunch"

I visit her all week, or as much as my hope can stand. She can't complete sentences. She isn't awake enough to even realize I am here, if she still recognizes me at all. A week from hell, it is the first time I have ever thought about life without her in earnest. Between working hard all week and dreams of coming home late at night from work and seeing the house lit aglow telling of the impending doom, I need to blow off some steam.

after the strip club
a scribbled note says it all
"wake me" (mom's dying)

Although waking my father is completely both out of the question (avoidance) and useless at this point (the truth shall bring me down), I do as the note says. He leans towards me into the spot on the bed where my mom usually is, and in his paraphrased version of technical jargon tells me: "She's not going to make it." Couple days to a week. There it is.

complete sentences
now a complicated task
inevitable

The Friday proceeded to incomplete sentences coupled with complete thoughts, forming a confused and frustrated woman. A husband and son know of the impending doom. First time for everything, first time to doubt her existence. Ironically the infection is attacking her heart, something she has the most of. She has fought so many things, and so hard. This is the one fight (the biggest) she will lose, and although undefeated until this point, the first loss is also her last. At least she told me she was happy. At least she knows I love her so dearly. Where do I go from here?

fuck you "omniscient"
nature's balance and the like
why do good die young?

escaped religion
"all endings are beginnings"
searching for reasons

fictional hero
a grandmother never met
existing through me

05/04/2005

Author's Note: Every time I think about my life without her now, my world crashes upon me each and every time, everything stops, I know I will be okay, but a better person? She always made me better... I am more alone than I have ever been in my life, lacking the complete friend who knows me better than I know myself. No one can or will ever compare to her, so where do I go from here?

It also should be noted that although I do not have children yet, I still imagine forward, into a time when I have children that I want my mother to be part of, and the challenge comes upon me, to, with words, articulate what kind of great woman she really was, and how much she would mean to them if she was still around. I can picture myself tearing up just trying to tell them stories about their grandmother...

Posted on 05/04/2005
Copyright © 2024 Jeffrey Parren

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Charlie Morgan on 05/04/05 at 10:09 PM

...jeffrey, m'man, so much to say ... yet words, while the fluid of mental movement in so many cases becomes a mute and moot ally...times like these/those/the continually occuring that bring the [existential life--death, always looming]right to our door step, and we're Quixote with a lance of larch, but struggle we will, eh?, ... and i see in you a very capable young man, damn near invulnerable...but this thing comes at us at our weakest place, the unprotected heart that is attached to our [especially i was with mine and i see you are with your] mothers is unbreakable even in death...dear jeffrey, the worth in description of your mom is EXACTLY why you would not only have her [remember seriously: she is just dead, in another life--you gotta hang on to that thru faith, which is to believe in the absence of proof] and so she still very much lives through you--did you get that? she still lives through you, jeffrey ... my best to you at this time and we miss it so many times jeffrey but thiisssss is the love thing that poets sometime talk about rather than girlfriend boyfriend, peace be with you and by the way it was a wonderfully expressive piece...you're a great writer, keep it up...

Posted by Agnes Eva on 05/05/05 at 04:04 AM

Your haibun is a wonderful blend of narrative and significant haiku moments. Bravo for such an inspired first effort! On the technical side I suggest avoiding 575 syllable patterns in the haiku; there's no reason to do that, some of the extra syllables merely cover up the strength and poignancy of the pure moment (for example; [after the strip club/ "wake me"/ on a scribbled note ]. Though some of the prose and haiku could be tightened up, I think this is a very effective piece, with a heart-tugging cathartic quality to it. thank you for sharing it.

Posted by Michelle Angelini on 05/05/05 at 11:07 PM

Jeffrey, I've been sitting here trying to figure out what to say about something that must have been exceedingly difficult to write. The opening lines could be about my mother, since the medical conditions you describe are similar. My mother lives in a nursing home in NJ. Your haibun describes what I will have to face one day down the road. I know you wrote this to assuage your feelings, but you've also helped me. Thank you.
~Chelle~

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