Spoiler: Sad

ME: Now why did I write that?  No one will want to read something sad.

YOU: Still self-defeating.  What’s sad? I’m a tad curious.

ME: Something I read somewhere, but I can’t remember where, so it can’t be plagiarism, can it?

YOU: You’re asking ME?

ME: I got this metaphor in my head and can’t get rid of it unless I scoop it out on paper–er, the blog.

YOU: Well?

ME: It’s abut a tube of toothpaste.

YOU: Whooppee! I can’t wait.

ME: Well, this child was given a giant tube of toothpaste to do with as she pleased.

YOU: And what did she please?

ME: Squeezing it out.

YOU: Oh oh, won’t last too long that way.

ME: Yeah, that’s the problem. Once she squeezed it out she couldn’t get it back in.

YOU: So she was stuck, huh?

ME: Worse than that. She was EMPTY!

YOU: So she learned her lesson, huh?

ME: But what can she do with it?  Don’t you see?  She can NEVER NEVER NEVER retrieve it!

YOU: Tough tootie.

The slight, unassuming fellow

looked somehow familiar when

he first visited our poetry group.

He introduced himself as Larry,

and then it clicked. “Larry Jageman!”

I blurted. “Nan Mykel!” he replied.

In group he was confronted over and

over for his peculiar verse–all hosannas–

yet took it  on the chin, calmly. Larry’s

attendance at group notwithstandng

was faithful, dogged,  and devoted.

He puzzled those of us who could not fathom

the persistent  style of his writing.

Were I confronted so often

and directly, I would have deserted

the group, my confidence crumbling.

I took his tears for sentimentality,

his occasional dark glasses a puzzle.

Was it his last group session that he

said next time he would share a situation

he was in.  He always spoke softly, but

this time I was fortunately sitting next

to him and heard him say that he was

afraid of his wife leaving him and that

she was afraid of him leaving her.

His  appreciation of friends, neighbors

and family, penned for more than a year,

seemed juvenile and rote to me, blinded

by a misunderstanding of his need.

He did take away something from the group,

and kept coming back until the end.

He was buried today, and I was there.

 

AFTERTHOUGHT

Upon remembering and reflecting, the image that stays with me is of Larry and Mary rejoicing in life’s grand square dance, and a reminder that there is a higher value than  rules. It is called love.

ME: You can say that again.

YOU: Tough tootie.

 

 

About Nan Mykel

At 79, I was just about to stop keeping a journal, but that felt like accepting that growth was finished. I don't want to be finished, yet! I'm 80 now, and struggling to communicate with you, if you'll come and set awhile. P.S. My how time flies! I'm 82 now.
This entry was posted in A mixed bag. Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Spoiler: Sad

  1. You call this sad? I call it devastating.

    Like

  2. Could be me. Yes people generally graviate toward uplifting BUT strangely many will relate to sad and we shouldn’t have to be unrealistic, in order to be happy we have to know its reverse. Life is a blend of all. I read this and I appreciated it

    Like

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