I Wish Aunt Emily Were Back at Home

[PrinceMyshkin]

Someone on here, someone dear to me, recently lost his brother-in-law, which reminded me of this poem I wrote for children. After I had written it, I realized that it was about the death, not very long before, of my kid-brother, Ted, at age 37, about which I was still in denial. In fact, I came to understand that the reference here to the phone was prompted by my feeling, for several weeks after his death, that the only reason I wasn't hearing from him was that I had stupidly forgotten his phone number!

And the last line - about the best I have ever written, I think - expresses both the persona's and my helplessness in the face of the incomprehensibility of death.





I wish Aunt Emily were back at home.
She went away about a month ago.
She said she'd phone.
She never did.

I guess that where she went
There aren't many phones.
I know she's not afraid
To be alone.

She's an adventurer.
She's very tall.
She's my favourite aunt.
I wish she'd call.

That's all.




J. Newman © 2006

[motherhubbard]

I felt the same way after my Aunt died. I kept waiting for a Christmas package to come. Everyday when the mail would run I would get so excited because she would always make the best gifts for me and then I would realize, oh yea, she's dead. Her death would be new to me every day at about 2:30 from thanksgiving until Christmas. The hurt would be just as fresh.

[Bii]

Jer, if you don't mind I might share this with my friend who's mother died recently. She's struggling to cope with it, as we all do.

It's a very humanising poem considering the subject matter. Nicely done.

[CdnReader]

Another of my faves, Jer. For a long time after my husband died (weeks? months?), I would go through my days collecting bits and pieces of things I wanted to tell him when he came home from work that evening... I'd hear a noise that the car was making, and think "I must remember to tell T." I'd talk with a friend and get some news about someone else we knew, and think "I must remember to tell T." I'd see that hockey tickets were still available for Saturday's game, and think "I must remember to tell T." And then, just as Mother H says above, I would have to re-confront the reality that he wasn't coming home that night, nor ever again. It was a very long process of changing realities.

[Pensive]

I have liked it very much, PrinceMyshkin! It very much relates to how a child's thoughts can be when a person dear to him leaves him forever. The writing style in this poem is very innocent (exactly like a child is expressing his views, mind me a child who can arrange words in a pretty way) and yet heart-breaking.

[Sweets America]

This is heartbreaking, yes. I totally agree with Pensive's answer.
And Cdn, I can only imagine what a sorrow you must have been through, but the thought is still very hurtful.
Prince, your beautiful mind goes on amazing me everyday. There are still so many things I don't know about you. Can we share one of your espressos someday just so that I can hear more of the story of your life?

[Pendragon]

Jerry, the sheer simplicity and meaning of that poem is masterful. Thank you for sharing it with us. If I may, I will keep a copy of it, for it is powerful!

Pen

http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l108/AbsalomKane/Smilies/PuppyLove.gif

[PrinceMyshkin]

Prince, your beautiful mind goes on amazing me everyday.

Thank you for perceiving my mind that way. It is part, however, also a cess-pool at the edge of which stands a tireless, implacable inventory-keeper who records every instance of unrequited love, every insult real or imagined.

Sometimes I wonder why I bother to keep on trying to be human?


There are still so many things I don't know about you.

Shoe size: 9 1/2. Neck size: 14. Favourite ice-cream parlour: Bilboquet on St. Bernard just west of Outremont. Guilty pleasures: Dark chocolate (as I'm a type 2 diabetic; unattainable women. Pet Peeves: arrogant or dogmatic people; anti-Semitism; rascism/bigotry of any sort


Can we share one of your espressos someday just so that I can hear more of the story of your life?

Hélas, no, as there is scarcely enough in my usual allongée for me alone but I would buy you one of your own.

[Bii]

Thank you for perceiving my mind that way. It is part, however, also a cess-pool at the edge of which stands a tireless, implacable inventory-keeper who records every instance of unrequited love, every insult real or imagined.

Therein lies the way to indigestion!


Sometimes I wonder why I bother to keep on trying to be human?

What else could you be?

[PrinceMyshkin]

Therein lies the way to indigestion!

Ah, the vomit woman speaketh!



What else could you be?

A swine, an unregenerate bigot, a misogynist or misanthrope... my God! the choices one is offered and indeed that are often imposed on us!

[Bii]

Ah, the vomit woman speaketh!

Yes, it's worrying to think that I could be the resident expert on vomit. Oh well, I guess it could be worse, I could be one of these:


A swine, an unregenerate bigot, a misogynist or misanthrope... my God! the choices one is offered and indeed that are often imposed on us!

All of which, of course, are just degrees of being human, no? One of the things that being a parent has taught me is that, whilst we like to put people into nice neat little boxes (credit to motherhubbard there, and her wonderful poem on the subject), by saying 'oh this person is kind', 'this person is arrogant', etc, etc; the fact is that we all have every possible emotion inside us, but through one means or another we do our best to suppress what we believe are the worst ones, and let out the one's we think are the best one's. Yet it's only circumstance that makes us be one thing or another.

We're all trying to be good Jer, and succeeding by varied degrees!

[PrinceMyshkin]

Who's to be absent from whom,
that's the rub
of love
as practised by the damned.

They've each perfected
the kiss
that leaves the other
unsatisfied,

the promise of passion
that dies
as soon as realized.




J. Newman Sudden Proclamations © 1992

[Granny5]

Someone on here, someone dear to me, recently lost his brother-in-law, which reminded me of this poem I wrote for children. After I had written it, I realized that it was about the death, not very long before, of my kid-brother, Ted, at age 37, about which I was still in denial. In fact, I came to understand that the reference here to the phone was prompted by my feeling, for several weeks after his death, that the only reason I wasn't hearing from him was that I had stupidly forgotten his phone number!

And the last line - about the best I have ever written, I think - expresses both the persona's and my helplessness in the face of the incomprehensibility of death.





I wish Aunt Emily were back at home.
She went away about a month ago.
She said she'd phone.
She never did.

I guess that where she went
There aren't many phones.
I know she's not afraid
To be alone.

She's an adventurer.
She's very tall.
She's my favourite aunt.
I wish she'd call.

That's all.




J. Newman © 2006


Jer, this is just lovely. I think it touches anyone who has lost someone close. You know, for years..maybe 10 really..I would get a very paniced feeling that I had not called my Mom. I would think that maybe I'd made a mistake and she really wasn't dead, I'd just forgotten to call. Then I'd call her old phone number..The finally gave it to someone else so I had to stop calling. But if they hadn't, I'd probably still be dialing that number after 28 years. Thank you for your heartfelt poem. I love it.

[ampoule]

First of all, my condolences to the person on here who lost his brother-in-law. I am sorry for your loss.



For a long time after my husband died (weeks? months?), I would go through my days collecting bits and pieces of things I wanted to tell him when he came home from work that evening... I'd hear a noise that the car was making, and think "I must remember to tell T." I'd talk with a friend and get some news about someone else we knew, and think "I must remember to tell T." I'd see that hockey tickets were still available for Saturday's game, and think "I must remember to tell T."

I understand. I still do that.


Thank you for your poem Prince. It is very tender.

[PrinceMyshkin]

I understand. I still do that.

You collect things to tell Cdn's late husband!? Is this a new category of infidelity, Posthumous Adultery!!!

[ampoule]

You collect things to tell Cdn's late husband!? Is this a new category of infidelity, Posthumous Adultery!!!

Why yes, he adores my little stories about Indiana. Cdn knows all about it though, so it's okay, I think. :D ;)

[PrinceMyshkin]

Why yes, he adores my little stories about Indiana. Cdn knows all about it though, so it's okay, I think. :D ;)

God! What a relief...because, the things one has heard about redheads...And since you were kind enough to provide me with that deep, subtle poem about onions, I think it only fair that I reciprocate with:


Indi, Indi, anna; Indi, Indi, anna.
Indi, Indi, Indi, Indi, Indi, Indi, anna.

O, to be in Indianna!
That's where I'd like to be,
Than be bound in Ioway
And drag the chains of slavery. CHORUS

In Indianna land is free;
The wheat and corn just plant themselves.
Then grow a good four feet a day,
While on your bed you rest yourself. CHORUS

Beer as sweet as Munchener
Springs from the ground and flows away.
The cows all like to milk themselves
And hens lay eggs ten times a day. CHORUS
Little roasted piggies
Rush about the city streets,
Inquiring so politely if
A slice of ham you'd like to eat. Chorus

Say, if you'd begin to live,
To Indianna you must go'
The poorest man in Ioway
Becomes a Duke in a year or so. Chorus

Oh, to be in Indianna,
That's where I'd like to be;
Than be bound in Ioway
And drag the chains of slavery. Chorus

[ampoule]

Oh my gosh, that's hilarious! Where on earth did you find that? I'm going to a jam session on Friday. That would be so fun to sing.
Even though I'm really a Native Daughter of the Golden West, I've been in Indiana a long time, so I loved it. Thanks Prince! :D

[PrinceMyshkin]

Oh my gosh, that's hilarious! Where on earth did you find that? I'm going to a jam session on Friday. That would be so fun to sing.
Even though I'm really a Native Daughter of the Golden West, I've been in Indiana a long time, so I loved it. Thanks Prince! :D

Obviously you were too busy necking and what-not to be marching along with me and my left-wing comrades, protesting the ills of the world! The song is actually Oleanna, about an attempt by a Norwegian immigrant to set up a Utopian community in the USA. If you want to know the tune (it's a rousing one) you know what to do!!!

[ampoule]

I love this morning. I am laughing so much! And would you believe my birthday falls on the Norwegian Independence Day, the first one? And yes, I'm a much better necker than marcher. LOL

You are very clever.

[firefangled]

Someone on here, someone dear to me, recently lost his brother-in-law, which reminded me of this poem I wrote for children. After I had written it, I realized that it was about the death, not very long before, of my kid-brother, Ted, at age 37, about which I was still in denial. In fact, I came to understand that the reference here to the phone was prompted by my feeling, for several weeks after his death, that the only reason I wasn't hearing from him was that I had stupidly forgotten his phone number!

And the last line - about the best I have ever written, I think - expresses both the persona's and my helplessness in the face of the incomprehensibility of death.





I wish Aunt Emily were back at home.
She went away about a month ago.
She said she'd phone.
She never did.

I guess that where she went
There aren't many phones.
I know she's not afraid
To be alone.

She's an adventurer.
She's very tall.
She's my favourite aunt.
I wish she'd call.

That's all.




J. Newman © 2006



I want to acknowledge that Jerry posted this for the loss of my wife's younger brother and for that, as I told him in a private message, I was very touched. And I also appreciate all your condolences, but this is more about my wife's loss than mine, which is why I have been silent. The hardest thing for me is seeing the depth of her grief.

Nevertheless, it helps to know so many people we have never met care enough to send such loving thoughts. This was my wife's only close living relative and the loss will be with her for a long while. When she is up to it, I will show her, I Wish Aunt Emily Were Back Home.

Thank you, Prince (and you are) and everyone.

[Granny5]

Take care of your wife. Our thoughts and prayers are with her and with you, firefangled.

[ampoule]

Yes, fire, again my condolences to you and your wife. Sometimes I think it hurts more to see our loved ones suffer.

And I apologize for the silly banter with Prince on such a serious thread...but he started it. ;)

[firefangled]

And I apologize for the silly banter with Prince on such a serious thread...but he started it. ;)

Yes, he did, didn't he. And what a marvel we humans are that we have such devices as humor to kill the blues...reminds me of a song by an incredible song writer, Chris Smither...


Someone said they saw me,
they said I was swingin' the world by the tail,
jumpin' over the white clouds,
but I was killin' the blues,
just killin' the blues.

[ampoule]

Yes, he did, didn't he. And what a marvel we humans are that we have such devices as humor to kill the blues...reminds me of a song by an incredible song writer, Chris Smither...


Someone said they saw me,
they said I was swingin' the world by the tail,
jumpin' over the white clouds,
but I was killin' the blues,
just killin' the blues.

Oh.....yeah.

[PrinceMyshkin]

And I apologize for the silly banter with Prince on such a serious thread...but he started it. ;)

I have just one word for you and I'm willing to risk the opprobrium of the moderators by putting it out plain as day, and that word is

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WOMAN!

[ampoule]

I have just one word for you and I'm willing to risk the opprobrium of the moderators by putting it out plain as day, and that word is

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WOMAN!

Why.................thank you. ;)

[firefangled]

Why.................thank you. ;)

How much like Maureen O'Hara are you! She is my all time favorite redhead (before virtually meeting you, of course).

You don't take shinola from anyone. I like that in a woman!