Category Archives: relationships

Surprises of Both Kinds

Some surprises are welcome and others not. Recently we have had some of both. My husband and daughter went to Michigan to see his mother, who was in failing health. They had a wonderful visit at the hospital, though it was clear she was declining. When they were almost home, a call came that she had died. Last Monday we came back from her funeral. (In the first week of January, Stephen’s Dad, who had been very hardy, slipped on the ice in his driveway and died in the hospital days later.) They were both in their eighties and we were aware time with them was getting short, so we had made more trips than usual to Detroit last year. Still there is no way, really, to prepare, and losing both parents so quickly is especially hard. My way of coping was, as usual, to write.  Here is a poem about my mother-in-law, Rae.

3/16/11

Rae’s Last Day

I can picture her standing there
in front of the living room picture window
small, fragile, vulnerable, frail,

wearing her tan jacket
and matching tan pants,
her hair done just so,

and I gave her a hug and said
we’d soon see her again
knowing it was nearing the end.

And today was the end
of that complex book,
the last page of dialog written

in a grace-filled hospital room
with loved ones gathered around.
All she needed to slip away

more or less easily, graciously, consciously.
To say and hear “I love you,” to laugh,
to be herself. To wrap up long life,

to breathe the last sacred breath…
and go.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2011

When preparing his mother’s eulogy, Stephen unexpectedly turned to my new book, Letting Go and New Beginnings: A Mother’s Poetic Journey. Over the 16 years of my poetry writing, Stephen has supported me in many ways.  Often I read to him poems that I wrote for him. But typically he does not read my poems on his own. This time he was looking for something that would express the mother’s voice—in a sense speak for his mother—and amazingly he thought of my book to find something that fit. These are the three poems he chose to read in the course of his eulogy. I love my poems being used, in that sense, a good surprise.

1/20/06

Reset Button

In a sense
I have not allowed myself
to let go
of your small hand in mine
as we cross the busy street,

although I know you are ready
and you know you are ready.
Perhaps guilt over sometimes
letting you cry, when I
needed my own life,

but felt stuck in the apparent
confines of caring for two small children
—the life I had,
a life I had chosen.
But now, do you see it too?

It is time to let go
and walk side by side as equals,
each as tall as the other,
each as weak and as strong,
each sometimes needing a hand.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2006

7/1/06

Mother of Adult Children

You want me to be there
when you want me to be there,
and to disappear when
you are no longer—
presumably temporarily—
interested.

How fair is that? And,

that is OK with me…
up to a point.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2006

2/24/08

After You Left

Constantly
I am watching out for you.
Even when I am not watching,
I am watching.

I cannot say why this is true
or when it began,
it feels like forever
my love.

So do me a great favor
and become…not less carefree
nor less careless,
nor even more careful,

for being full of care
is not it exactly.
Be more aware of your choices,
more in tune with your inner wisdom.

For you are wise
dear one.

And if I am selfish
and want you to stay with me
when it is clearly time to go,
forgive…

and go.
Call me when you arrive.
I will be waiting.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2008

To read a sample of Letting Go and New Beginnings and the new lovely review go to https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/39211

Symbolic

When we save things our babies have outgrown to later pass on to our kids for their babies, it means more than just the things themselves. They symbolize the dreams we have for our children, our wish to be part of their lives, and our desire to support them. Here are two poems about things I saved to pass on and what happened to those plans.

As expectant parents in 1984 we wanted everything to be perfect for our baby. This first poem is in my new eBook, Letting Go and New Beginnings: A Mother’s Poetic Journey.

11/20/06

Passing Love Along

I painted this chest of drawers
when I was big with my firstborn.
I chose the handles of yellow, red, green, and blue.
I drilled new holes, putting wood dowels and wood putty
into the old holes, lovingly sanding smooth.

I added a white, coated-wire shelf
and screwed it onto the side to hold
the powder, cream, and baby wipes.
I sewed a green cover for the pad to act as changing table.
And after he was born this is where we changed him.

This dresser moved with us to the new house
and has been in his closet as he grew. Twenty-two
years he is now and gone to an apartment in the city,
no place here or there for this white chest.
We are ready to let it go with a blessing
to a hopeful family crossing the ocean,

welcoming them to the beginning here of their new life.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2006

The second poem was prompted by the news: a law passed that cribs with side rails that went down were unsafe and could no longer be sold. Since cribs are used for such a short time, most cribs are bought second hand or passed down. When I was pregnant with my son, we picked out a really good crib with matching dresser that would be used for both our babies and handed down the generations. After saving it in the basement for 23 years, this week that crib went out with the trash. What else could we do with it, in good conscience, but let it go?

3/6/11

Old Crib

(as best we can)

The crib that we choose with deliberate care
has now been determined and declared
unsafe for all babies—or some—
even though the slats were closer,
even though we entrusted our two new ones
to its nighttime enclosure with the bumper pads
of bright cars or pink buds with lace, matching comforters.
Now it cannot in good conscience be saved
for grandchildren yet unconceived.
It could be kept as a souvenir
of lost sweet baby days, but what would be the point?
Let it go forevermore
bless what use we had of it
what love surrounded those precious lives
just then at their beginning…

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2011

What have you let go this week? And why?

Inspiration in a Crisis

In early December we got news that a dear friend was in the hospital and doing very poorly. Her husband called and it sounded dire. Stephen and I were supposed to attend a Folkstage concert that night (Buskin and Batteau at the WFMT radio station in Chicago), but my husband had the flu and couldn’t go. I was upset, but he encouraged me to go on my own, as the music often moves me and we have made many friends there. During the concert, this poem began in my head for my friend, Barbara, expressing my love for her. (She gave permission to share this poem.) I am very happy to say she has recovered! The line “choose joy” came from one of the songs they performed that night, because Barbara is one of the most joyful people I know.

12/4/10

For Barbara and Me

Begun during Buskin and Batteau

Choice-time.
Choose to stay,
choose to live,

take care of yourself
as if you were someone else,
as you took care of me

so unselfishly
able to put aside
all other consideration.

Choose that
for yourself
my sparkle girl

(it takes one to know one).
And if you choose to go
know I am grateful

for you here
up to now.
But stay,

choose to live,
choose joy…
“Missing you already”

you wrote to me
on a flower post-it
stuck where I would find it

when you left for home.
Love you forever
whether days are short

or however long.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
©2010

Gratitude

The radio was on in the background as we were having Sunday breakfast and reading the newspaper. It was a program of classical music from South America, one piece from each country. The conductor came on before each one to introduce the music. Before one of the pieces he said something like: the composer’s wife and child had been in a head-on collision and the composer named this composition for her. I believe he also said that they had survived. It got me thinking about the preciousness of time. And how we don’t choose how much time we have we have with those we love. And this poem popped out. I was thinking of my husband, but it really applies to everyone I encounter.

4/26/09

Inspired by Something
Partly Heard on the Radio

I do not know
how much time
I have with you.

I read the stories
or avoid reading them
of all the sad, tragic

things that happen
and tears run down my face
in sympathy, in empathy

whether I would stop them
or not. I know this dark place.
But yet, I do not

want to know the limits
of the hours, the minutes
I have with you.

What good would that do?
Just to be here
where you are

for as long
as there is…
and be grateful.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2009

Belated Happy Easter!

This poem is a true story from last Easter. When I read it again it was like memory, seeing the scene play out in my eyes, but stripped of the powerful emotions of that morning. I know it was no accident everything happened as it did. What fruits are borne of this Easter morning re-birth is up to each one of us.For those who might not know, Reiki is a kind of divinely guided healing energy (universal life force) that is transmitted through the hands. Anyone can learn to do this. For 12 years, I have used Reiki almost daily for myself and others. It is powerful and gentle. It is great first aid. And is always available. A complete Reiki session can be very relaxing. As mentioned in the poem, Reiki can be helpful for emotional issues as well as physical or mental. I often add a visual like the gold globe or bubble to protect the person or strengthen them. In this case, Reiki was calming for me, as well as potentially helping the man and the medical techs.

3/23/08

Easter High Mass

After Dawn finished singing
her angelically beautiful “Alleluia,”
the heart of the man at the right back
of the Easter-filled Church of St. Patrick…

well, his heart stopped. And those around him
alert to his plight shouted out for help.
Many called 911 on cell phones.
A woman, outwardly calm, did CPR.

Briefly, a priest in vestments bent in blessing.
A man rolled up the sleeves of his blue dress shirt
and did his part: one shock of the defibrillator,
following instructions. Others gathered

in an anxious half-circle around them.
The filled church was quiet except for fussy babies
and squirming toddlers. High Mass did not begin.
Father H. strode to the front and led

an “Our Father” and a “Hail Mary” for the stricken man.
Time slowed down. Words softly spoken
could be heard across the rows of wooden pews.
Firemen arrived quickly and took over.

IV begun…slow beeping…slowly… moans as, I assume,
the man returned to us. I held the hands of my daughter
on my left and my husband on my right. At the start, I tried
to send the healing energy of Reiki, but felt too much emotion

to finish. I heard in my head a strong, clear, firm voice:
to concentrate on placing a gold bubble
around the workers and the man, and
to fill that bubble with Loving Light—

as I have done before. I did this.
Immediately I felt calm. Then in my imagination I gathered
the strands of fear and anxiety that swirled around
and sent them out through the central skylight, up into the Light.

Rescue efforts continued; the fireman
wearing the heavy coat wiped his brow.
Another held the IV bag high in his blue-gloved hand,.
Snow-coated pines, sunlight, shrubs and blue sky,

a serene backdrop behind them.
I remembered to breathe, and kept breathing deliberate breaths.
Finally the gurney was raised, the IV bag and tubing now clipped
high in its stand. Surrounded by help, the man was wheeled out the back.

Those standing returned to their seats. Music resumed;
processional from back to front, Father and two girl servers.
“Jesus Christ Is Risen Today! Alleluia!”
Throughout the Mass, the man was mentioned:

a prayer to surround him in healing grace.
What fruits are borne of this Easter morning re-birth
is up to each one of us. For me: this poem,
my way to reflect and release and remember.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2008