“Cercis canadensis”
Cercis canadensis
for Dad
When we had tried
putting ourselves together again
we’d used the wrong parts,
made effigies of ourselves
with the piles of distorted junk,
left behind scraps of a once-full life.
We went through the motions of people
spoke like them, practicing their accents,
but did not understand our own words.
We got the phrases wrong,
the tones, the memories.
Periodically, we’d erupt into full color
flowers growing from every part
and our days seemed alive with joy.
But we would catch ourselves lost in time,
eyes fixed on a long-abandoned walker,
a long-absent bed,
a long-neglected garden,
at the things we find so important now
and the flowers would fall from our bodies.
I gave up on trying to find the parts
of myself I missed most,
stopped looking for who I had been before. I’ve been more comfortable with discomfort,
waiting for others to finally leave the safety
of their beds, the safety of their tears.
And we’ve started to share ourselves again,
imagining Spring, redbuds flushed fuchsia,
grief removed from our shoulders,
sadness washed from our faces
by the showers of April and storms of May.
We will remember how to be happy
and how to be sad and how to be,
and we’ll see the long-forgotten remnants
and we will understand who we are.
Written 19 April 2019 in Payne County, Oklahoma. Rewritten 5 September 2019 in Payne County, Oklahoma.
Brian Fuchs, “Cercis canadensis” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)Continue Reading
The week started out very hot. I actually lost a rose bush to the heat; it had been struggling to grow anyway, so I’m not terribly surprised. I was still not feeling great part of the week, so it felt a little like I was getting back to life in slow motion. I did manage to get the lawn mowed, which was more exciting than it should have been, and cut down one small tree. Other than that, my only real efforts in my garden were pruning and deadheading. Oh, and lamenting the loss of that rose. I was looking forward to that one, but the heat was even stressing some of the crapemyrtles, and they can handle heat pretty well. We had a storm come through last night and that pretty much took the worst of the heat with it. We can enjoy a couple of cooler days now. I have not seen most of the youngest kittens for a couple of days, which is a worry. Sometimes they do disappear for a few, but I’m worried that they didn’t make it. The property is so large and wooded, and the cats all spend time exploring, that I might never really know what happened unless they show back up on the porch.
Life can really slap you in the face sometimes. I got a gentle reminder that I am not in control on Monday. My brother called me at work; I knew something was wrong, since he had never called me at work before. “Don’t freak out,” he said, “but Dad had another heart attack. He is fine; they flew him to Mercy Hospital in [Oklahoma] City.”
I finally talked to him that evening. He sounded fine & had plenty of energy. What scares me is that it was a massive attack and his doctor said he was lucky to have gone to the hospital when he did; he might not have survived otherwise. I am not ready at all for something like that to happen. Not only can I not imagine losing one of my parents, but mine are both great friends and people I would want to know even if I wasn’t related to them. They are good people, wonderfully naïve about the indecencies in the world. Wholesome.
Any blessings from this? Maybe. My brothers both have a tendancy to drop their kids off with my parents. I understand this. They have to make ends meet and you do what you can to struggle through with a young family. I get it. But Mom & Dad have both been pretty exhausted with it all lately. They’ve needed a break. Mom’s back needs some time & Dad just needs some time off for his mental health. Now, it seems they will get a little break. It is unfortunate that it had to happen in this way though.
This would all be much ado about nothing if it wasn’t for the two kids. Brad & Jess have two boys, who are being used, as happens so often, to cause Brad more pain. He is repetedly denied seeing his boys by Jess, who has decided to move in with her mother, who is in the midst of mourning her husband, and who until very recently had nothing to do with the kids. Even now, her version of watching them is to take them to the neighbor’s house and have her watch them.
Game Day:
So, Saturday was a day of sleep. I woke up pretty late to sounds of a football game. I hadn’t been around my mom & OSU football since high school. I had forgotten. It is high-spirited, fun, loud,… weird. She loves football. My dad, on the other hand, finds football too trivial to be bothered with. Largely, Brad & I agree. Brent will watch on occasion. This particular game was a biggie though. I remember vaguely asking who we were playing as I slowly became aware of my surroundings. Nebraska.
That did not happen. The lack of interest in me once I arrived made me feel severely unneeded. Perhaps it is a blessing to know this. It doesn’t make knowing it any easier to know that my family can exist happily without me. It hurts a little. And this growing pain was something that needed to occur. I realize that I was never going to grow if I considered myself just one of my parents’ children instead of viewing myself as an independant individual, capable of being my own person.
Not In Alaska:
Letter writing is in order.