If you were still here.I would remind you of the hot, heavy and humid June day when you were finally born-fighting the forceps that yanked you, almost against your will from the womb.You loved these sweltering days-you were born to thrive above 90 degrees, I believe. You were a heat up the grill and ice down the beer kind of guy; call everyone up and go camping at the lake kind of man. My son. My first born with almost a twin-like hold on me…Oh, I miss you. Yes, I know you have been gone already fifteen years. Yes, I have moved on-it’s just I drag your smiling spirit along for the ride. There are so many things, I would like to sit on the deck and discuss with you. The world as it is now, which is nothing like the world you left behind. Politics-I imaging we might bump heads on that one; the concept of Face Book and Instagram. I checked the freezer for Elgin sausage and fat chicken legs; I will barbecue inside because I never liked the weather this time of year. I did hear it might rain, too. I might make a chocolate cake and you would eat it all and then rub your full stomach and SMILE. I guess that is what I miss the most, my son, your smile; how the smile started in your eyes before making its way down to your mouth. That is how I remember you, how I always see you in my mind’s eye. I hope where you are there is a lake with a great place to swim, and cook for your friends and family; where the weather is to your liking and there’s a smooth spot to pitch your tent. Happy birthday, Steve.
Sunday in Church , I prayed for an end to my sister’s suffering. The cancer and the treatments had ravaged her body. She was afraid to die and very sad. I could feel the passing would be soon.
I was already very sad as it was it was the anniversary of my oldest son’s death.
I paced from room to room. I paced around the church.
I prayed. At bedtime waves of
anxiety overwhelmed me as I lay on my bed in a fetal position.
Dreams of my parents who had gone before and my long lost son chased me through corridors of another dimension.
I woke up with a start at 3:32 for water or to relive myself.
I shuddered remembering my dreams. I prayed again for comfort for my little sister before collapsing back into fitful sleep.
When daylight filtered through the moon window above my bed, I dared look at the phone on the nightstand.
The call had come, muffled by the sound of artificial waves that rock me to sleep each night
The call I’d dreaded and expected.
My little sister was no longer wracked with pain.
Her smile returned-accompanied by Angel wings.
© Nancilynn Saylor June 2018
The scent of this morning’s
Fresh plucked Magnolia blossom
Fills the room tonight.
One of my favorites…
One I cannot explain to my own satisfaction,
Much less to another.
Tonight, I am reminded of the first time I smelled Magnolia and how the adrenaline swelled through my body while Angels infused the air.
Lemon scented paradise…
It’s different tonight . I cannot lose the lump in my throat no matter how much I swallow.
The scent of Angels this Spring will remind me of my sister who lays dying
Bravely fighting the cancer ravaging her already frail form. Tears scald my cheeks as
I lift the bloom-filled globe to inhale the smell of Heaven that awaits her.
Nancilynn Saylor 2 June 2018
Today we celebrate our son, Mike on the occasion of his 46th birthday.
He was not with us
for so many birthdays
Lost in a world where mom's and
Dads don't go
except in the nightmares
Of their minds when sleep curls up in
a cold corner of the dark room
And they can only stare silently at the
Ceiling, while the whirring fan seems
to mark the months on invisible
We joyfully celebrate his love and his gentle spirit
Thankful for his presence across the dinner table
he is in arms reach and but
a heartbeat away.
Happy birthday, sweet child o' mine!
© Nancilynn Saylor
14 December 2017
Each one called the other,
Now won't speak
one to another
Far beyond, an angel's tears
for brothers both held so dear
Mother's counsel goes unheeding
Stubbornness from both, stampeding
She turns off her light while grieving
I received my first stock
from the woman my father married,
a few years after our Mother died. They were
both eighty and set in their ways-she was
a hard-headed woman of German descent.
She snapped off a piece of hers
jammed it in a discarded pot of dirt
and said, “here you go.Just don’t leave it
outside in the cold or you’ll kill it-like your dad
almost did mine.” I cringed.
That was about as nice to me as she ever was.
Sad to remember her when I see my lovely
January 6, 2013
It has not quite been a week since I returned to my blog…planning to continue writing here weekly for all of 2013. It has so far not proved to be too difficult…not with-standing the pain I have sitting here perched on the edge of a wooden straight-back folding chair in this wreck of a space I call my computer room. It is not the computer that is a wreck but rather the mistress of the room, Moi`. I sit, now, perched because the sciatica that has plagued me for over two years. I finally rounded a corner in regard to the sciatica within the last week; I asked my Physical Medicine Doctor to send my record and referral to a Neuro-guy. By Neuro-guy I mean surgeon because at this point that seems to be the option I have been scudding towards, heels dug-in for the past how many months that turned into years.
I was no more aware of my aching back-butt unit than yesterday when my beloved Romeo and I made a day trip to San Antonio from our home in the center -of-our-Universe, which is South Austin, Texas. The occasion for the trip, was a birthday dinner celebrating my father’s upcoming 90th birthday in 2 days. All but 1 of my sibs live in San Antonio, as does my dad. I knew the trip was coming up and as if instinctively my back began to act up as dawn broke.
No matter how I wriggled around in the car seat my back rewarded me with streaks of pain rushing from back to hip to big toe on the right side of my body. When it was not shooting pain it was a feeling as if ice water was trickling down the leg. I am not normally such a grumpy co-pilot; however, poor Romeo had to endure the spin-off effects of my misery the entire 84.3 miles to the Outback Steakhouse. We were low on gas, my fault for not filling the car after I finished at the nail salon. Just the small act of getting fuel seemed to warrant another explosion from me. Dare I say taking the wrong exit off the freeway launched yet another tirade from her not- driving –the- car. Sigh.
The family had been seated in the restaurant by the time we arrived. Everyone was there…nope, wait, someone was missing. One of my sisters and her husband sent apologies…sick with a cold. I freaking quietly became ballistic, sharing my dissatisfaction with my baby sister who filled me in on the absence. All is good everyone said because she did not want to get our daddy sick…grudgingly, I agreed it was probably just as well-after all, she was a nurse.
We shared appetizers and bread and girl trips to the bathroom together. My dad was very happy to have a majority of the family together. We told jokes, talked about the economy, retirement and bad backs. Some of us mouthed silent messages across the table to each other, and we adjourned back to dad’s to say our goodbyes. No one was hungry for cake since the server and her team brought daddy a small cake and sang a birthday song. It was a good day.
I was much more relaxed on the return trip home. I apologized repeatedly to my love who repeatedly said it was not necessary. My back will hurt until it is fixed…I might as well be as cheerful over top of the pain as possible, because my wonderful Daddy will only turn 90 one time. I was glad to share it with him.