Writing Sadness

I don't write poetry too often, but when I do, I tend to focus on nature or individual objects and weave them together. Storytelling though poetry has always posed a challenge as I've tried to fit the model of not revealing too much in a poem and letting the reader connect the dots.

Recently, in the hopes to tell more stories through poetry, I began thinking of the types of memories where powerful, visual and sensory details stand out strongly. I thought of the broad term of sadness and memories associated with the feeling.

Exact moments of touch and scent and images frozen in time surrounding sad memories arose immediately. I thought of my grandmother passing away this past winter and when the time was near, leaving work mid-morning, stopping home quickly and packing an overnight bag just in case. It's such a clear memory, of gathering a toothbrush and an allergy pill, a change of clothes, opening drawers and cabinets to fill a bag, working quickly, running to my car when finished. I remember the 90 minute drive south and approaching a toll booth, waiting in line in the cash lane behind a driver who was speaking to the tollbooth worker for 3 or 4 minutes. When it was my turn to hand my dollar over, the worker, dressed in a plaid flannel shirt told me in a thick Boston accent he and the other driver were talking about "the storm." I couldn't think of any storm. But I remember his voice and accent and what he wore.

Much like joyous, happy memories, these moments of sadness feel frozen -- every visual detail, word spoken, and emotion felt is preserved. I'm not sure how they're best written, but we all experience sadness in so many different forms. Writing of it confirms that together we share the experience.

I haven't read too much Seamus Heaney, but Mid-Term Break is my favorite for telling a powerful, sad memory.

Mid-Term Break

BY SEAMUS HEANEY

I sat all morning in the college sick bay

Counting bells knelling classes to a close.

At two o'clock our neighbours drove me home.

In the porch I met my father crying—

He had always taken funerals in his stride—

And Big Jim Evans saying it was a hard blow.

The baby cooed and laughed and rocked the pram

When I came in, and I was embarrassed

By old men standing up to shake my hand

And tell me they were 'sorry for my trouble'.

Whispers informed strangers I was the eldest,

Away at school, as my mother held my hand

In hers and coughed out angry tearless sighs.

At ten o'clock the ambulance arrived

With the corpse, stanched and bandaged by the nurses.

Next morning I went up into the room. Snowdrops

And candles soothed the bedside; I saw him

For the first time in six weeks. Paler now,

Wearing a poppy bruise on his left temple,

He lay in the four-foot box as in his cot.

No gaudy scars, the bumper knocked him clear.

A four-foot box, a foot for every year.

Evening Walks, June

I was in a play in late June. It was a new experience for me, but a fantastic and fun couple of months. Set in a Bronx hair salon, the play was a mixture of hilarity and sadness, life, death, love and commitment. Even more exciting is that it's returning later this summer. With the evening performances and a busy work week during the show's (initial) run, I found myself in a strange sleep schedule as the adrenaline took some time to wear off. One night after a performance I found myself reading about alien abductions in the early hours of the morning to scare myself enough to fall asleep. Thankfully, it worked. I also found deep happiness in being part of the performing arts and working together with others. In the few weeks before the performances, after evening rehearsals, I would often walk through Meredith, New Hampshire at sunset, on some of the longest days of the year.

Lake Waukewan

Lake Waukewan, Meredith

Sleeping foxes at the Squam Lakes Natural Science Center, Holderness

Coco and Lucy from "The Salon" in costume and character

Land of Lakes

Lake Waukewan, Meredith, New Hampshire

There's been so much peace lately. Beautiful sun and warmth and water and outdoor adventure. I've found myself incredibly happy in recent weeks, between community involvement and work, meeting others and enjoying the outdoors with friends and family.

Squam Lake, Holderness, New Hampshire

The happiness has came not only from the season and surroundings but from realizing the opportunity in each moment. There is so much good in every moment and in realizing what life is providing and what goals can be achieved. 

Lake Waukewan, Meredith

Remembering

It really is extraordinary when scents trigger memories. Over the weekend, along with family, I was fortunate to gather several of my Nana's pins and scarves (and a 1950s era Santa!) after she passed away earlier this year. The scent of her trademark perfume seemed to float through the air while I packed up the items in her home, along with memories of her wearing each pin or scarf. The scent and memories returned even stronger today in my own home, as I found a box, and along with letters and cards she had sent for birthdays and holidays, packed the items together once again.