Behind My Apron Strings

Death by Cigarette

1.

“By God it’s good to see family when you’re sick!”, he beamed
arms o u t s t r e t c h e d, averted
teary eyes near
over
flowing

He really must be dying
I feel bad for him
& Him

who feels worse?
wounds are open now
exposed
affection weeping years

suppression/repression/aggression

he shys away from him
behind: behind my apron
strings
pull him toward me
I lean forward: toward
Him

too soon for hymns
but not too late

/

is this what it feels like to die?
to soften for once in your life?

2.

Do I have to wait
that long before I see
the next generation cry
before I
find something to be defensive about?

a fathers legacy

He feels sorry sad
& scared
I follow his every move
I watch Him from behind
corners

He has a lot to answer
He doesn’t know how to feel
the loss
not knowing; the baby
wanting hugs
finding joy in the smallest of things

He will be gone soon

Thy Will Be Done
& life
Will

/

He is not my father
he is my grieving lover
I shake their tears loose

© Copyright 2007 Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

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10 thoughts on “Behind My Apron Strings

  1. i like this one best so far your doing good hang in there and rember to talk to GOD becase he care for you ill miss you in mafia wars you one of best in my mafia take care

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  2. A subject all too close to the mark for me; not cancer but chronic bronchial asthma and down to 40% lung capacity thanks to 40 years of cigarettes. If I’d only listened way back when I was young and bulletproof…..

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    • Yes it is a very painful lesson and we all decide to take risks we think won’t harm us… but it isn’t until later that all the partying catches up. Love to you chip. A positive attitude will help you to fight this. You will be OK. Jx

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  3. I was with my father-in-law when he passed away. The family could not be there by his side, for the pain. I nursed him, we all did. I watched everything around me observing how everyone moved, spoke, separated, nursed, grieved, laughed and remembered. Most of all I watched my husband. He is so much like his father. Hard, the softness often hidden but ever present. It was a precious time. Even administering the intravenous Morphine was humbling. I finally saw the man and not my husbands father. He was a good man and so is mine. Jx

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