Grief In Verse

A Dear Friend Died Yesterday

A dear friend died yesterday. 
We went to say our last goodbyes and I-Love-You’s
But he did not wait.

It was okay
Because we had not waited until the last minute
Thinking we had tomorrow for those words
We always wanted to say
Meant to say

But never found the right moment for
While we had him with us
Sometimes only inches away
Last words floating into forever.

Having the last word means, “I won, you lost,”

When we think we have tomorrow.
But when tomorrow is lost
We think back to the last time we met
To what we said, with sorrow
Sometimes regret.

Had we known, we never would have said
Or left things unsaid.
If only we had known!

But all we know is that we do not have tomorrow

And we know that
bitter and sweet
Words last.

A Big Thank You

Recently I unplugged from social media during Lent. Six weeks is a long time in internet years, so I did worry about being obsolete when I returned. 

I swallowed hard, signed off, and took the risk anyway.

The next day I learned that my blog had been selected as one of Empowered Doctor's Top Breast Cancer Blogs.  I was overjoyed, 

And super relieved. 
Empowered Doctor is a news affiliate of The Chicago Tribune, Arizona Central, and CBSNewYork,  providing their websites' health sections with the latest advances against cancer:  their endorsement is a huge honor. 


So, for this vote of confidence I send a big . . .

 

Practicing What I Preach

I sincerely believe in my byline "Health From The Inside Out" and so for consistency's sake I am unplugging from social media until after Easter--you might say I am writing off blogging for Lent. One way I try to keep my life in balance is with travel and so I will share one wonderful adventure I had in Italy last year. I hope you enjoy it!

Italy, After All

We were doing our favorite thing when we travel, strolling.  It’s different from walking, which is too fast and usually implies a destination, or at least a direction. 
 
No, strolling must be slow and meandering enough to allow us to link arms and pivot deftly to stare at delicacies in a bakery window, or to sniff out an alluring aroma from an unseen gastronomia. Trays of olives in oil, salami sliced razor thin, focaccia, pizza, and those spongy pillows of deliciousness, fresh mozzarella.  
 
Aimlessly drifting like fishing nets to catch whatever delights that come, we ambled with hearts open wide to Ligurian enchantments , made endearing by the sharing.  Our eyes danced from side to side, marveling at the buildings splashed with the burnt colors of Taos.  
 
We delighted at the ubiquitous laundry hanging from windows framed with shutters the color of girl-scout uniforms.  And we laughed out loud at the sight of a yellow lab poking his head through a hedge implausibly growing on a rooftop.
“He seems to be surveying his domain,” Doug said.
“Perhaps he is the K-9 officer, keeping the streets of Nervi safe,” I chirped, and we moved along, loving Italy.
Wandering through a narrow alley an aroma stopped me in my tracks.
“What is that smell?” I gasped.
Doug said, “It’s probably dog poop.”
I said, “On the other hand, it could be cheese. This is Italy, after all.”