Amorphous Anchors

Like the slap of waves on rocky shores, grief never stops it’s assault.  Like a phantom limb  sensed by habit-worn nerves, grief senses the departed.

“I can feel Dad’s presence”, “Mom’s looking down”…we soothe ourselves. But some days we know it’s a lie  and  a sense of irrevocable loss opens up …a vacuum.

In that vacuum rushes in that formless, colourless, odourless thing  – called love or it’s sad synonym grief- for if there was no love would there be grief?  The heart moves on …like the slap of waves on a rocky shore.

 

salt and water

anchoring life

to earth

— end —

This 100 word Haibun – a prose and poetry combination –  was written for the 100 word photo challenge. More details about this challenge can be found at:  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2016/05/25/27-may-2016/

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Click on the Froggy below for other amazing takes on the same prompt by fellow “Friday Fictioneers.”

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It’s not the same without you!

“So where is Home?”, the stranger asked making small-talk.

Home. The single storey brick home with two bedrooms, two baths and green mosaic floor. Light yellow paint. Packed with furniture with just enough room to walk.

“It burnt down”, I say.

I can still see it burning on the banks of a river, long gone dry. The ashes being gathered in an urn.

I go home to the single storey brick home with two bedrooms, two baths and green mosaic floor. Light yellow paint. Packed with furniture with just enough room to walk. The urn collecting dust on the shelf.

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The above 100 word story is written in response to the 100 word photo challenge posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Field each week. PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Click on the ‘blue frog’  below to read other amazing takes, that fellow Friday Fictioneers have, on the same photo prompt.

Happy Belated Anniversary!

Last week was my parents 44th wedding anniversary. We didn’t celebrate it for a simple reason that my father is no longer alive.

When I reflect on my parent’s 28 years of  marriage I realize that theirs was a unique and beautiful one. They made it seem so simple and so natural that I was lulled into thinking marriage is a great game where both parties -bride and groom , husband and wife – are winners, equal partners.

Their marriage was a dance where they twirled and intertwined  into one entity to meet life and it’s adversities; and where they separated and showed their individuality , complimenting each other. They balanced the scale of yin and yang; not necessarily sticking to gender stereotypes. They respected and trusted each other despite their sometimes diametrically opposite principles.

His warmth

Her embrace

Their love for us

His reason

Her emotion

Their common sense

His principles

Her motivations

Their hard work

His empathy

Her sympathy

Their compassion

Her self-confidence

His humility

Their presence

His anger

Her calm

Their patience

His sacrifice

Her sacrifice

Their love for each other

That was my parent’s marriage …a symmetrical poem -where there was room for He and She and Them – the perfect nest for us children.

They each had their strengths and played them to the best of their abilities. The adverse life events they could control they tried their best to control; gave all they had to control….but there were too many that wasn’t within their control. They stuck together in it all…until death did them part.

In some societies a marriage’s success is measured by the longevity of cohabitation and  success of the offspring compared to a certain social group ; the wealth that they have amassed or social status of the husband and/or wife. Sometimes the success is measured in the height one spouse scales in their career and the other one is assumed to be behind the success. This is all the world can see and measure.

We can only intuit the dynamics of the marriage by observing the spouse’s interactions with each other. By the spark in their eyes or lack thereof, when they look at each other; Or whether they look at each other at all.  By how they speak to each other or about each other; Or if one is allowed to speak at all.

No one sees or measures that which goes on within four walls nor what goes on within the four valves (in the heart) of each person: the true marriage. No one can measure the value of a quiet evening playing chess together enjoying each other’s company. No one can measure the value of a spouse sharing without ego filters  the day’s events and the emotion it invoked: some times laughter , some times pain. No one can measure the value of intimacy. No one can measure the value of knowing that your spouse tears open their heart and pries open the lid to their soul just for you! And even more ,knowing that you can do the same without any fear of judgement.

In all those immeasurable ways, my parents had a successful marriage. That’s my observation as one who stood close to those 4 walls and those 8 beating valves.

It’s a shame that marriage anniversaries are not celebrated after the death of one spouse; especially such successful ones. Maybe its time to change that trend. Maybe its time to send a note or call and say to your one living parent….

“Your life together,

the way you lived it,

will always be my anchor

on stormy seas.

Happy Anniversary!”