Monday, March 12, 2007


It appears, in our little group, that moments of reflection keep creeping into our blogs time and time again. Remember these:

Dive: Daphne Rubbernoids, the old outside privy, Providence Place, Zerafa St and laying on Dad in my big pants. (that last part doesn’t sound quite right does it?)

Robyn: her masterful task of “I am From” What’s in an age, Coffee Me, Fat Girl, a postcard my grandfather sent to my grandmother before they were married, sometime before 1920, My First Movie and lest not forget all of her B-day remembrances.

Sassy Memories of Montana, Mr. Dearborn, My Pop-Pop had given me this new hat, , Fluff Goes to Washington, Goody Good Doughnuts and one of the funniest ever, Thanksgiving with the Dead (and a Chihuahua)

Kate Isis: Bubonic man, Dr Seuss method of sex, SO I"M WONDERING ABOUT SUICIDE, I've just surveyed my Queendom. It's a god awful mess.
Question is, where do I even start?, Déjà vu G - I have to go and check on my joint (that’s funny, I don’t’ care who you are), I don't want it to burn., WEAPONS OF MASS INSTRUCTION, What did your parents hit you with?

Rich: Mr. Beantown in Washington, I remember my parents saying this phrase to me when I was quite young - whenever someone would knock on our door at home-Open the dam door, , I worked in a bomb factory and lets not forget, I’m from the “Fine” family.

Then of course we have Old K: where to start or how to end.. so let’s just say his remembrances at any given time can cause phlegm to gurgle in up your throat, hives to pop around your middle and even on occasion you may find yourself becoming all unnecessary (giggle). Old K, if I were to list just a handful of your musings it would take up this whole post. Trust that we all know who is King!

I thought I would share with you something that was running through my mind last evening in regards to reflections. Reflection on the past, reflections of people of importance, memories that make you feel connected, loved, cherished and a wishing to revisit those times and places.


I can stand in one spot in the middle of my mind
I can see where I’ve been and what I've left far behind.
Stopping to note as scenes flicker past
Moving and fading like snakes in the grass.
I see days of youth, carefree, no stress.
There to one side is my Dad in a dress.
The giggles from the wiggles of worms in my hand
Never considering life slips, slide away just like sand.
This snip of a girl who is hardly ever afraid
Has no recollection of the impact I’d made.
Her dad floats around her on a cushion of air
His life has been lifted for the fact that’s she there.

Half woman, half child I’d snickers at boys
Who in the near future would bring me some joy,
Joys of first kissing’s and holding of hands
Of whisper of sweetness and the bulging of glands.
I’m growing and changing before my own eyes
I’m finally a woman at least tween my thighs.

Time gets really muddy with hormones and age
Now a child is coming, another turn of the page.
My dads in the kitchen doing the dishes that night.
I sit in his driveway afraid that I might,
Might tear up his heart with the news I must share.
A grandchild is coming, I can’t see through the tears.
Two more and much anguish and moving about.
His strength never lessened, his love near in doubt.

I stand on that acre now a mother of three.
My Dad right beside as always he’ll be.
A home we will build, my daddy and I.
Where his dreams for my future are at last satisfied.
He has seen me through troubles and victories galore
Through choices and voices sometimes I’d ignore.

His face now has lines, the creases much deeper
How many from me and from the Grim Reaper?
His mind is now ravaged with disease now apparent
My name he’ll forget, you see is inherent.
Toady is a mystery, time in and time out
He wanders through gardens that now show the drought.
The drought of his attention to care and to tend
It won’t be much longer before he’s rounding the bend.
He cannot remember what chores he must do
Or if the dogs eaten for one or for two.

It’s happened so slowly or so it does seem.
He’s watched as I’ve grown as I’ve followed my dream.
He’s been my anchor, my harbor, my port.
I think of our time, it is growing so short.
He forgets what he’s eaten and where are his keys?
It will be when he forgets me I’ll fall to my knees.
He has been my protector, my knight oh so rare.
I’ll not make it without him that thought I can’t bear.

To love him right now is the best I can do.
He knows me today through his mind’s changing hue.
We talk everyday, sometime three or four times.
He knows what is happening, it is not sublime.
He sits and he waits for the days to slip past.
Not really living, watching hours elapse.

I wish I could fix him, give him back what is gone.
I’m not ready to live without him
I’m not done with our song.


dive said...

Oh, Prudence, that is so intense.
Thank you for making this old fool laugh out and then shed a tear sitting here in my office in front of my bemused colleagues.

And thank you for reminding me of Sassy's Thanksgiving with the Dead, surely the funniest thing ever written in a blog.

Robyn said...

Oh God, how I hate that disease. This post is gut-wrenching, Pru. Thank you.

Sassy's Thanksgiving post must rank right up there as one of the best so far.

Dear Prudence said...

Dive and Robyn it was a very difficult post to write. I mostly live in the land of denial regarding the progression of my dads Alzheimer’s but it is getting to the point where it is in your face more than not.

Yes Sassy's Thanksgiving with the dead deserves some sort or Blog Award.

Ame said...

WOW Pru....what can I say...what a amazingly touching yet sad and all-too-familiar-sounding piece...sigh~

My Mom (85) has mild dementia and Dad, at 91 is starting to slip...but like you, I just take one day at a time and treasure the time we DO get to spend together...

Keeping you and your Dad in my thoughts....HUGS!

And WOW! I'm in your sidebar're so sweet! I swear I HAVE to figure out how to do that! LOL! ;)

Dear Prudence said...

Thanks Ame for the well wishes. Any type of mental deficiencies are difficult but when it robs a brilliant man who should be basking in his retirement and living the kind of life he worked so hard for it is a double whammy. He has been diagnosed since 2000 at which point he was only 63. Makes my heart hurt sometimes.

Sassy Sundry said...

This is a great post, Prudence.

I'm really sorry about your dad. I really like him.

Dear Prudence said...

Thanks Sass, I know he is a great guy.

~Babsbitchin~ said...

I am stuck in the 70's and earlier, so I'm often reflective or rather stuck. I loved the poem. You said it ran through your mind. Did you write it? It's pretty damn good gringa! Good post. I'll be back to stalk ya later!

Dear Prudence said...

Thanks Babs and welcome! Yes I wrote it. I used to write alot before children and grownup land.
I am sometimes reluctant to post much of the things I write as we have some true literary geniuses in this little group. Punctuation, grammar and verbiages aside, it was what was in my heart about my dad so, Fuck it.. everyone seems to forgive my poor command of the English. For that I thank you all!

Utsav said...

Hello Prudence, that is such a touching piece- and so mind-numbingly honest. It couldn't have been easy writing that. My sincerest wishes to your Dad, and may you all have the best of times ahead.

Dear Prudence said...

Utsav, sometimes I wish my mind were "Comfortably Numb"! it would make this journey with my dad a bit easier. What doesn't kill ya makes you stronger.. well the fucker who first said that oughta be shot!

M.Benaut said...

For my first visit, I decided to read this post Prudence - having recently come across Rich's and Dive's and Robyn's while being in touch with Ame and Lynn for a few months now.
This is a truly beautiful poem and tribute to your father Prudence. I wish you well with your journey. It is a sad one and you will need strength. We have one in a nearby family who is an empty shell of herself while still having the ability to smile and wink and drink a glass of champagne, even if the voice is whisperlike. Bless you dear for being such an incredible daughter.
Mme Benaut xx

Old Knudsen said...

Trust that we all know who is King

we do? nope its still queen liz #2 spaeking of which, yer dad in a dress?

A nice post, very sad.

Dear Prudence said...

Welcome M.Benaut, I enjoy reading your comments to others' posts and glad you stopped by my spot. Thank you for the compliment of being an incredible daughter. My dad is an incredible dad. I always believe in the saying "you get what you give". It is sad to watch him slowly slip away. Come back anytime.

OLD K. Ok I will give ya that Liz#2. You are the only one who mentioned the dress. It was a company picnic that my dad took us to when I was about 6. All of the guys in his tool room dressed up in their wives dresses and put on a singing show. It was one of the funniest things I had ever seen my dad do. Straw hat and flower behind his ear with a stogie hanging out of his mouth.

Rich said...

well, you summed me up pretty darn good there. It's almost like you took quotes right from my blog ;))

~Babsbitchin~ said...

Yes, we do run with a similar crowd. They all seem to have a command of the lingo, better than myself. But I really can't stand people that jump down on anybody that does not write well. In my mind, they are looking for a way to make themselves appear better than and brilliant. I see through it though and will say so. The poem was wonderful and never be afraid to post from the heart!

Old Knudsen said...

I write like I speak and I have 3 PHDs, I also typo the word today as toady all the bloody time.
Yes I am also moist and I may have lied about the amount of PHDs.