Poetry on the Loss of a Mother

By Jean D. Johnson

When I lost my mother, I was advised to write letters to her. When I found this too difficult to do, the poetry about grief and my sadness over losing my mother just came naturally to me - almost as if Mom was working through me somehow. I wrote many poems during the first year after losing Mom, and I shared these poems with group members from the grief groups I joined on Facebook. I was told several times or more that people identified with my feelings and derived comfort from reading my poems. It was then that I decided to compile this e-book so all of my poems about Mom and grieving could be found in one place. Hopefully, my poems will bring comfort to others.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jean D. Johnson
• Release date: Jun 24, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310939679

Jean D. Johnson

I was born in Arlington, Virginia, and currently reside in Oak Hill, Virginia. As a child, I loved writing poetry that my mother would then make into little booklets, covered with wallpaper samples,, and send to my grandparents. My other artistic outlet was singing, which I did quite well when pulled out to sing for family and subsequently in high school select groups and musicals. My last performances were with The Alexandria Singers. Then I just got too busy with marriage, raising a family, and working. Now I substitute teach various elementary school subjects - and a lot of music! For relaxation, I go out to eat with girlfriends, explore my family history, and sometimes I practice my ukulele and play board games with a meet-up group.I had let my writing languish for a while with the normal business of every day life when my mother fell sick at 92 years old and died of pneumonia. I hadn't lost someone so close to me since my dad died when I was in my twenties. That was different, because he was a sick abusive alcoholic, so losing him was almost a relief sometimes. I had to learn how to mourn what I'd wanted him to be. My mother was the one who had always kept our family going, so this was different. She lived a courageous life, broke free of the abuse, and went on to live a better life with new friends in Florida. I wrote about this in one of my books.People often say that writing heals the soul, so I tried to write letters to Mom after she died, but I just couldn't do it. Instead, I turned to poetry - often writing a poem or two each day about Mom and grief in general. At the same time, as I got better, I began writing other poems on non-grief topics (anxiety, depression, children, etc.). At the end of the year, I turned those poems into self-published books that I made available through various outlets. I still can't read the poems I wrote about Mom without crying. Maybe someday...I wrote two small books of children's poems, and I intend to write a picture book (or two or three) for children, so I can read it to the kids I substitute teach. Sometime I intend to write a book about my life as a child of abuse by a bipolar alcoholic and how I have benefited by psychological therapy and found happiness with a family of my own.I have to wonderful young adult children and a husband who is responsible, reliable, loving, and fun. Can't beat that! Anyway, that's my story. I hope someone somewhere finds comfort in my books. They were written with love.

Book preview

POETRY ON THE LOSS OF A MOTHER

By Jean D. Johnson

Text copyright 2016 Jean Dudley Johnson

All Rights Reserved

Dedicated to my family and friends for their love and support

Preface

By Jean Dudley Johnson

Poetry was a big part of my life when I was a child. My mother would get wallpaper scraps from a paint store and make little booklets of my poems to then send off to my grandparents. As I grew older, I kept writing poems. Then one day, I just stopped.

I didn’t feel a desire to write poetry again until my mother died in December of 2014. I was told that writing letters to her would be therapeutic, but I just couldn’t do it. The words wouldn’t come – until I began writing poetry again.

I like to think that Mom had something to do with my renewed interest in writing poetry, that somehow her spirit worked through me, sent me the words.

These are some of the poems I wrote after my mother died. I hope those who read them will recognize that they are not alone in their grief, and I hope they find some comfort from my poetry.

Table of Contents

Signs of Love

An Empty House

A Cracked Heart

The Piano

Once Brilliant

Christmas without You

Hope

Returning to Me

Another Hour

Too Soon

The First Year of Grief

If Heaven Exists

A Chance Meeting

Revolving Door

What I See

The Missing Note

My First Thought

Behind the Light

Search for Joy

Mother Loss Groups

Thrift-Store Trinkets

Tomorrow

Later

Insomnia

The Road

Folklore

A Word

Holding On

My Fan

Lost

Thanksgiving Day

Approaching a Year

When the Time Comes

Days like These

Birds

Hold Back

Cheated

An Encounter

One Step

There

Reminiscing

Her Last Day

The Cardinal’s Visit

Overwhelmed & Discontent

Perspective

Shattered

Fighting Through

Signs Shared

What’s Important

The Necklace

Walking With Me

I’m Fine

Comfort

An Unexpected Bond

Chill

No Other Mother

I’m Missing You

Christmas Wish

Fate

My Heart

One Day Left

The Ornament

A Year Later

The Anniversary of Your Death

Blocking It Out

Undeliverable

Inside of Me

A Kind Touch

Pretense

The Painting

Smile

Christmas without You

Magic

Different Feelings

Together

Grieving Again

Mementos

Reasoning a Loss

Remembering Mom

Christmas is Over

Missing Mother’s Wisdom

The Nature of Grief

Early Morning Thoughts

A Heart’s Memorial

Mom’s Spirit

Why Do People Die?

Resting in Me

Dreaming

New Year’s Celebrations

The Lens

2014

A New Year’s Wish

New Year Hope

Someday

Second Year without You

More on Grief

Caught Thinking

How I’d Like It to Be

No Time Limit on Grief

The Throes of Grief

Another Day with You Not Here

Keeping Busy In Grief

Must I Have Both?

Urging On

Make-Believing

Depression’s Quirkiness

Nature, Nurture, or Grief?

Taking a Chance

Coping

Reflecting on Life

Anxious Night

A Certain Age

Worrying Along With Mom

Missing Mom on This Wintry Day

The Death of Worry

Changing Again

Similarities of Face and Soul

Blizzard Aftermath

Daddy’s Girls

Moving with Mom

Music Tears

One More Kiss

Spontaneous Remembering

Puppy Bowl with Mom

Better

Your Name

Worrying

Act

Your Death Defined Me

A New Way to Communicate

No Lasting End

Family Changes

Inside of Me

Still Sharing

The Bridge’s End

Mom’s Spirit

More Endings

Signs of Love

By Jean D. Johnson

They tell me you’re around me even though your body’s gone.

They say that released spirits have a way to carry on,

That if I search for signs of you, I’ll see them pop up here

Signs that though your body’s gone, you’re somehow really near.

I miss you, Mom. Where are you? Are you truly by my side?

Are you sending signs to comfort me when I stumble or I cry?

Are your arms around me now, do you hold me when I doze?

Because, honestly, I am not sure but others say they know

That spirits dance around them, removing bits of pain,

That butterflies and pennies are signs you’re here again.

But I, I sit and wonder if the chipmunk in the yard

Or the cat appearing at my door is your special calling card.

Remember when you’d leave a card for someone when we’d visit?

Well, is the rainbow in the sky your sign to me? Well, is it?

Perhaps it is enough for me to imagine this is true

If these things I see bring comfort and make me think of you.

So next time that I see a moth flutter over my shoulder

Or watch a chipmunk approach me, walking toward me ever bolder,

I’ll say Hi, Mom. I’ve missed you, and think perhaps you hear

And you are watching over me, ever near.

An Empty House

By Jean D. Johnson

Searching your house for the smallest thing – papers, dolls, and a wedding ring.

I’ll read the messages they impart to try to soothe my aching heart.

You left before I could say goodbye. I sit in your house and sigh and cry.

Holding close my treasured finds, feeling I’m slowly losing my mind.

Someday I’ll polish this ring that I found, wear it so that I’ll feel you around,

Holding you close – your stories, your love,

Missing you more each day and of this I know, I’ll never lose the memories I treasure of you.

Jewelry, trinkets, stories, and songs. Threads of memory constructed strong.

You may be gone, but my heart runs free with all that you were to me.

A Cracked Heart

By Jean D. Johnson

I felt my heart crack when you left this earth.

I saw darkened skies where you once were.

I heard tears fall, dropping on my cheeks.

The world was sad and bleak.

I felt hope die when your voice was gone.

I found no solace in cheery songs.

I saw emptiness where you’d once been.

You were lost, and I was stumbling.

My fast-paced life turned down to slow.

I reached for something that I might know,

A memory, a touch in a dream at night, just to tell me everything was still all right.

But you were gone. I had to let you go.

Store you in my heart where I’d always know

I could go for healing for a broken heart,

Whenever my world fell apart.

I learned that I, as my mother’s child,

Had you still with me, inside – alive.

Memories, teachings, and stories told,

Remembered touches and voices old.

I moved ahead some days and yet

On other days I would forget

How to act the part of someone without a broken heart.

In time, they say I’ll remember more the good things shared, memories galore,

With much less pain than this first year. Treasured images to hold dear.

The Piano

By Jean D. Johnson

Sometimes I turn to the piano when I remember you

And sit there, playing with one finger, muddling through.

I mostly sing. Remember? You used to play while I sang out

Now I have to do it all, because you’re not about.

I think it’s unfair that your music left when you did, too.

All I have are old records and memories of you.

I pray to hear the piano play some night as I’m in bed.

All I hear are the quiet fan and my husband’s snoring instead.

So sometimes I turn to the piano when days are alone and sad.

I pick out notes with just one finger and it sounds a little bad.

But somehow I feel closer to you when I sit there and spend.

Time reminiscing and playing the keys again,

Where I used to stand and sing when you played for me some days,

The old songs that we loved to share – so sensitive and gay!

I’ll always envision you right there when I now sit down to play

Playing the piano sometimes makes me feel as if you never went away.

Once Brilliant

By Jean D. Johnson

Brilliant hues of color once colored my world long ago when my mother lived,

When all was normal, when I felt immune to the injuries that life would give.

Condolences offered for lost loved ones were more simplistic in earlier times.

I never knew their pain as much until I lost a loved one of mine.

Losing my mom cut me deep and shook my soul unlike ever before.

Suddenly, I felt lost in a world of people whose pain I could feel even more.

I’d never be the same, but would walk through this world in unity with other hurt souls,

With an open wound that would never heal, with a deep, unending black hole,

In a heart where life had seemed simpler once, where the pains of life bounced away,

Where smiles were real and didn’t mask over the inner pain of that day,

Where my intact world made my life feel safe, where fairy tales could come true,

Where love could overcome everything and serious problems were few.

Now this old world is an open sore with just a thin layer over the pain

To keep hurt at bay until something else rips my wound wide open again.

Christmas without You

By Jean D. Johnson

Another day and you’re still not here

Angels in stores as Christmas draws near.

For me it is the time you died,

The time I fell apart and cried.

What will I do on this first Christmas new

When I feel adrift because there is no you.

I’m lucky to have my husband and kids

But, although you were old, I didn’t want this.

To go down the path without you here,

I’ll feel your loss with every tear.

Since I can’t call you, I’ll call my brother.

But it’s not the same as calling my mother.

And what when he’s gone someday up the road?

How will I cope left behind here below?

Hard to adapt to a life without you.

While others are happy, I’ll be feeling blue,

Missing the laughter we used to share,

The talks and the interests, the love and the care.

Wondering what I will ever do

On this Christmas to try to make it through.

Should I light a candle? Should your photo be

Framed and hung from our Christmas tree? Will it cause me pain?

Should I write a card to you? But where would I send it?

My heart will be broken with nobody to mend it.

Should I buy a gift for someone alone?

Should I turn off the ringer on the phone?

I still love my husband and children, too.

It’s just that Christmas won’t be the same without you.

Hope

By Jean D. Johnson

A vast wasteland that has now unfurled before my eyes.

No refreshment in sight. Instead there is only the long cold night

Hugging me snug with a cold, dark bite.

You see. You died. Nothing is right. I miss you each minute of every day.

I look for signs that you’re near me, the way

That you played the piano, the photos, the songs

That we used to sing bring comfort sometime

Or they sound all wrong.

You see. You died. Nothing is right.

And then one day I see a sign in the world

That opens me up with its beauty still

And it reminds me that you’re still in my heart

A special place with love to impart

And memories of you that bring me smiles.

You see. You died, but it will be all right.

Returning to Me

By Jean D. Johnson

Whether in sleep or in reverie, thoughts of you come flying to me.

With tender