Weekly Watering Hole #4

One day late, or 6 days early, here I am with another wet gulp.

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Long Distance II
by Tony Harrison

Though my mother was already two years dead
Dad kept her slippers warming by the gas,
put hot water bottles her side of the bed
and still went to renew her transport pass.

You couldn't just drop in. You had to phone.
He'd put you off an hour to give him time
to clear away her things and look alone
as though his still raw love were such a crime.

He couldn't risk my blight of disbelief
though sure that very soon he'd hear her key
scrape in the rusted lock and end his grief.
He knew she'd just popped out to get the tea.

I believe life ends with death, and that is all.
You haven't both gone shopping; just the same,
in my new black leather phone book there's your name
and the disconnected number I still call.

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Hailing from Leeds, England, Tony Harrison was born on April 30, 1937. He is a noted author, translator, dramatist, and librettist. The above poem was published in 1984.

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And now, to you, poets.
What do you fear more: losing or being lost?

Wow, quite nostalgic.

Hm, to your question, I think both. It's hard to say though or put into words. For me, the fear of losing would be not necessarily physically losing someone or having them no longer a part of my daily life, but losing that connection or spark with them. Growing apart. Or perhaps losing a feeling of safety or clarity I once shared in a certain place or with a certain person.

Being lost - I wonder what that means to truly 'be lost'? Mentally or even to feel like one's identity is gone, shattered, absent. And there's a distance within yourself.

Wonderful ode & a fitting ending.

The prospect of losing my family sends terror spasms down my spine. Especially my children. They are the future.

I think of losing myself to dementia with rather a measured pace that has no end. I fear losing my wits, but not as much as losing my family.

I will be lost one day, such is the nature of man. I hope my wife and children are there to mourne me, for it is right I go first.

Larry, I agree with you completely. Since having children, my only true fear in life is losing them to something tragic. I literally could send myself crazy with worry if I overthink it. I'm 34, but dying no longer scares me when once it did. If I leave behind a healthy happy family, I will go peacefully. Everyone's time comes; we can only hope those around us are happy when it does.

I fear being lost because while being lost there's a fear surrounding us of not knowing where one is at, and this fear could make one lose oneself, which ultimately, it would be like I fear losing myself. So I think it would be fair to say that I fear both.

Though on the other hand, I fear being lost because I would not be in contact with those I love, I would be all on my own, even though I won't necessarily fear to be alone, yet I do fear losing those I love, because if I lose them, then the fear of being alone would overcome me. Which ultimately, I don't necessarily fear losing nor do I fear being lost.

I don't know if that makes sense.

I'm with Larry and Ben on this. I have such a terrible fear of losing those whom I love. I lose sleep over it. It eats away at me watching my parents grow old. I want them to outlive me so I don't have to deal with the grief of losing them. Likewise, I wouldn't want them to feel the pain of losing a child.

Being lost in life is a raw, healthy, soul-searching sensation.

My heart broke reading this. I've now read this four times (different days) and today, at work, it just struck me, and I cannot stop my tears. I work at a senior center, and am around the elderly every single day. I am a sounding board, a shoulder to cry on, a counselor, a social worker, a grandchild, a daughter, a jokester, a past friend that they think I am... I am whatever they need me to be during whatever crisis they are currently enduring.

And my heart breaks. Every single day it hurts. These beautiful, wise people that are now lost and alone. A client just buried two of her children within 6 months of one another. And while she's much stronger than most people I've encountered, it still is painful. A woman just lost her husband, and the realization of her new reality is so fresh that she can't talk about waking up for the day without uncontrollable sobs. I imagine that's the woman I would be, if in her position. Not knowing the next step, because I love and feel so incredibly deep that it dictates my entire being. My heart rules my mind, that's why I'm so careful with it.

As for the question, I see so often those who have lost loved ones now feel lost themselves. I believe I would be this way - lost after a loss. I don't want to lose people, but I don't want to be lost, either. I've felt lost, unsure of who I was before, and it was a very scary, dark, unhappy place in my life. I'm not an adventurous person, and that moment told me I had to be, to dig out of the confusion.

Man, this was a heavy topic that I turned much heavier, lol. Thanks Jane for the topic and reflection opportunity. It reminds me how cliche yet truthful it is to truly love your deepest every day you can.

Amazing post, Britt. Thanks for working at a senior center. You're making an excellent contribution to humanity.

That is an astounding post, Britt.