Tears For All The Years That Passed

im crying, sonni quick. karma, liver transplant
photo source: crazy4images.com

I’m crying
Why can’t the world hear my crying?
Tears for all the years that passed
seeing dreams that never last.
beyond the time you can see
and when you open up your eyes
the dream has passed
It’s now too late
to dream that dream again
my heart is torn it can not mend.
My dreams are dying
and I’m crying
for all I have that’s left is pain
I lost it all with none to gain
I look in the mirror, I see myself
hoping to see where the years have gone
I made the cause, I was so young
Sharp turns to the left
that way was wrong.
tears fall, say please
as they stream down your face.
a longing look at the piano keys
I wrap my arms around my knees,
Crying tears of loss
Crying tears of pain
No one takes a step across
No one ever takes the time
No one ever looks to find
No one feels the pain inside
And no one cares about the tears I cried.

This poem was written in 2012 around the time of my liver transplant when no one took the time to hear me. I didn’t want to die, and I didn’t want to fully realize I  was walking a very fine line. I still had things to. I wasn’t yet done living. I had been in a state of denial for many years. I still am. I was determined to live – to learn everything my body needed to live. I succeeded for a long time until the year I turned 54. It all came crashing down like a delicate house of cards made from one card too many.

I found the poem today when I was cleaning my desk, looking for one last book of blank checks. Some wounds are deep and they are almost impossible to heal.  They go round and round in your head until you want to scream to drown out the noise. That is when I often choose to write. All through my life I have put my words on paper or music. I have also written many journals through multiple decades. I think it was a way to not lose myself; to not disappear- a need to keep me solid to prove I was here. A hundred years from now my descendants can still know who I was today.

I had know for years that the number 54 was going to mean something to me.  I know this is going to sound strange, but I thought of it again when I recently wrote to someone who said she was 54.  I was born in 1954.  My father died when he was 54.  He died from liver failure from alcohol.  His body swelled with fluid until he looked 9 months pregnant.  His father died, too, when he was 54.  His body filled with fluid and it went over his heart and he drowned.

When I was 54 my body swelled with fluid and I had my first attack of ascites.  I was in end stage liver disease and my body was shutting down. The week before I felt fine, but my legs were swelling and I was getting very think around the middle.  The women who ran my doctor’s front office wouldn’t let me make an appointment with him because I had just been in, but after getting very angry they scheduled me with a part time doctor in the office who told me I was constipated and go do an enema.  It got worse. I crashed my doctors office and demanded to see him. His jaw dropped.  After he got done yelling at his office staff he gave me meds to take the water out.  It worked but he told me later he was scared for me.  Next thing to do? Pack up, leave key West and go get on the liver transplant list.

At the age of 54 I should have died.  Without the advance of medicine I would have been gone.  Many times, on this blog I have talked about karma – cause and effect.  We carry karma with us.  It is passed down through the generations.  From the time I was in my 20’s I always thought that any year I lived after 54 would be a gift. I don’t even know why I thought that.  My father was still alive.  I just knew.  The doctors at the hospital worked hard to keep me alive as long as they could, because I also had to battle liver cancer. Finally, 2 years past the age of 54 a liver came available that matched what I needed.  Not all livers work for all people and more people die waiting for a liver for that reason. The doctors said I came as close as possible to death without dying.  That is an eye opener.

But still, even now, I have to push through the damage it had done, and every day I tell myself I can do it.  I can dream.  I can still do things.  I can start new chapters in my life.  I’m off and running. I still have a few sharp turns to the left in me.  I beat the karma.  I’m 61 now and next July 2nd I will have my fourth birthday.  Date of transplant.  I’m a kid again. It will take a lot more than this to keep me down!

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3 Comments

  1. Reblogged this on My Name is Jamie. My Life in Prison and commented:

    I wrote this and published it this poem and post on my other blog about and month and a half ago. Today I decided to re-blog it. During this time period, when I wrote this poem, there was a lot of letters between Jamie and I. I had to type with one finger because I lost the ability to hold a pen. I had trouble holding a fork, too. With liver failure protein builds in the brain and motor skills don’t work and confusion sets in. I knew he was having trouble with me being so sick and not being able to do anything. He and I have things in common and one of those things is a family who didn’t care that I had moved to Pa to have a liver transplant and I was close to losing the battle. I also had liver cancer and more infections than I thought possible for one person to have, but that is what happens when your body starts shutting down. I have a lot of family that live close but not one person ever called to see if I was even dead. As you can probably tell I still have trouble dealing with it because in the years since nothing changed. I have better friends all over the world that I met through blogging and I am so grateful for that. I never could understand family like that. In a letter I got from Jamie yesterday he talks about the same thing – a family who never cared about him the past ten years who can’t even send a birthday card, let alone send a book to read or month to buy a bar of soap. He writes about how hard it is and that he tries to keep it out of his head because it brings him down. He loves his mother. He can’t bring himself to say anything bad about her, and I hope he finds a way some day to tell her how much she has hurt him. He says it’s hard to know he doesn’t have her support in any way. That is heartbreaking, too. It is one reason why I tried to fill the void. After ten years of filling the void it is much more than that but I just don’t understand why people, who say they love you don’t ever do anything to actually show it. I had my transplant in 2012 soon after I wrote this poem. It really explains how I felt about my life because i thought I was losing it.

    As a Buddhist, I look at life different from most of you. I don’t think life begins when we are born or ends when I die and I don’t think we go to some magical place called heaven where all are problems are gone and all we do is worship a god. I believe the people in our lives we have been with before. Sometimes we feel a connection with people and sometimes we don’t, and those people you do you’ve been with before, although not in the same context. We work through our problems in life and we do it over and over until we get it right. We live in heaven on earth and we live in hell on earth. It isn’t somewhere we go when we die. Jamie is in my life for a reason and I am in his life for a reason. I wouldn’t want to imagine his life now had I NOT been in his life these past ten years. That was my purpose. He fell in love with my daughter and had a son he can’t be with, but that happened because he needed to meet me because he needed me to teach him the things he needed to learn to get through these years. I may not be making much sense to some people, but when you learn what the meaning of cause and effect is, you gradually learn what the meaning of your life is. Your faith should enable you to have a happy life, no matter where you are – in a prison cell or a hospital room. If you aren’t, then you have to examine what it is you actually believe.

    Please make sure you follow this to the other blog and read the rest.

    Like

  2. Honey. I have read this before and it rips me up. You are so brave & give so much of yourself. How could I have known what we were starting in 1954. It’s all for a reason. But I still yell. WHY. WHY. Karma. Love al

    Liked by 1 person

    1. We have no way of knowing what lies a head of us when we are born. It’s what we do with it that counts.. I think it’s important to write it down so it doesn’t get lost.

      Like

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