I was thinking of my mother while driving the other day and promises she extracted from me long ago. She is still alive and kicking independently as she approaches 80. I remember when we were visiting a nursing home, she became very serious and asked that I never put her in a place like that. This poem started with that conversation, then incorporated a friend of mine’s experiences with her mother-in-law’s dementia. The final element that brought about this poem was when we had to put down a pet due to old age and illness. It made the mind wander. Although this is an older one, it has been one of my favorites through the years, even if it is a bit macabre. [Previously published in 2008, when The Flying Island was a print journal; the poem doesn’t seem to be in the journal’s online archive.]
She made me promise—
said if I really loved her,
I would spare her
the lonely shadows
that swallow the mind,
sweeping the halls clean
long before the current tenant
has had a chance
to pack up and move on.
It was my weakness
in honoring her wishes
that let her
lose the grandchildren,
her daughter’s face,
even the last good years
of her husband.
She still found me
familiar enough at least
to help her bathe,
pick out her dresses,
brush her hair.
I wonder,
as she now lies so peaceful,
if her last thoughts
were of polyester fluff
and betrayal,
or were they exhaled
with a sigh of relief
unknown to the hands
that fought me
for one more breath.
| Copyright © 2021 by Maik Strosahl Michael E. Strosahl has focused on poetry for over twenty years, during which time he served a term as President of the Poetry Society of Indiana. He also dabbles in short fiction and may be onto some ideas for a novel. He relocated to Jefferson City, Missouri, in 2018 and currently co-hosts a writers group there. In September 2020, he started the blog “Disturbing the Pond.” |
The ambiguity of “my weakness / in honoring her wishes” is haunting – did the speaker “honor” his mother in disobeying her wish that he “not put her in a place like that”...or in obeying it (to her silent disappointment)?
ReplyDeleteOuch. I always say good art engenders emotion, but those emotions aren't always warm and fuzzy. This one was a gut-punch, brother. Spent the worst afternoon of my life with Mom on Wednesday, Dec. 2nd, as she awoke repeatedly to the agony of a broken femur, cried out in pain for God to take her, then lapsed onto unconsciousness again. She soon passed, but it wasn't easy. We carry these guilts with us forever, whether we really own them or not. In your business, your life, how could you have done anything else? We couldn't care for Mom 24/7 either, and there are 4 of us. All too old and/or infirm ourselves, other than the youngest brother who works all over the country and could do no more than we. They're safe now, wherever they are.
ReplyDeleteI think it expresses the helplessness one feels as a loved one slips away mentally, a guilt that really is not their fault at all, but especially because of the promise in this instance, the character feels he has failed her and takes action to do what he feels he should. A dark twist to a difficult situation many have had to deal with.
ReplyDeleteRoger-I am sorry for the pain you and your family have had to experience. I dread the day when I get the call that one of my parents has passed. I miss not living near them and being able to pop in whenever I wanted to chat.
Ah, yes, the poem’s narrator doesn’t promise his mother “never to put her in a place like that” but to
Delete“spare her /
the lonely shadows /
that swallow the mind”
– I let your preamble misguide me.
I remember grieving in advance of my father’s death. When word came, I was already almost empty. And even emptier when my mother died, 25 years later.
Morris, I did the same with Mom. Dad was sick for 5 years before he passed in 2001, and I thought I was ready, but it hit me like a train anyway. I resolved to never be blindsided again. I told my family 3 days before Mom passed that the time to start grieving was now. The youngest, Hugh Mom's golden boy, was in denial, berated me for being premature; denial is actually a defense mechanism we use to give ourselves time to accept what we don't want to be true. I find solace in hoping for the best while knowing in my heart, and truly preparing, for the absolute worst. I know quite a bit that in a way I wish I didn't-knowing what's really happening is rarely a comfort, rather the other way around.
ReplyDelete