Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Maybe Next Year

November fourth won’t have the power of the past
I’ll sleep through the night, won’t wake up in the fetal position
head pounding in the rhythm of despair and dread.

What will save me from this acid torch in my gut every
November fourth? What will make the day just slip by without
grief or remembrance of a son that brought me pure joy.

How long does loss hang on and haunt those left behind?
How long before his precious face that comes to me in dreams
brings me joy in remembrance rather than the ache of absence.

This year was the
life is good; this is a perfect day
The air is cool, the sun is shining and I planned an evening
with friends
day. The
I won’t think, won’t acknowledge any pain

This isn’t the year I hit on the right combination, the right ploy
to make this just another day of cool weather and blue skies.
Maybe next year will be the year I find my way.

Judy Roney
November 4, 2009


Glenda Council Beall said...

Your grief for your son's passing reminds me that my grief is only beginning and the future isn't looking clear with no showers in sight.

Judy Roney said...

I know what you mean, Glenda. I said many times that I wish I had a roadmap through this terrain. I even used others maps and sometimes that helped but I finally realized it was me who had to make my own map. Even my husbands map was different. I felt so alone. You will find your way steps. One tiny step at a time. You are a writer and that is what got me through. That I think is a blessing. I am so sorry for the loss of your beloved husband. I can not imagine what that would be like. Hugs and prayers to you. Be strong when you can and take care of yourself.

Mary said...

Judy, I commented in another area, but I want to say here that this is a very special poem amd hope you somehow got through the day and that you were able to bring forth some good memoies even though the anniversary itself was filled with horrific tragedy.

Victoria said...

Even twenty three years later July 7 isn't an ordinary date for me. Some are harder than others. I always get through and never know exactly how it's going to be. It has gotten easier on the average, but not predictable. I think you are wise in knowing nobody grieves by the same map.
Peace to you and your husband and condolences to Glenda Council Beall in her loss of her husband.