Loss

The Days We Never Forget

/ Pam Goode / 12 Comments

“It’s not bad — we think you’ll be fine” and suddenly the words leap from “We’re just not sure why this isn’t working” to “I’m so very sorry, but this is all we can do,” and before we knew it, she was gone.

Today is the day my Mom died. It was 5:30, March 30th, 2006.

I remember every moment of that day, as do my sister and brother. Still. And Forever.

Death is so surreal — and often, so unexpected. Even when you know it’s coming, it jumps at you like a growling hyena, and you wonder if you’ll every understand.

If you’ll ever get past it.

My mother’s death was one of those “wait, WHAT HAPPENED??? sequences that spilled suddenly from “It’s not bad — we think you’ll be fine”, then morphed strangely to “Unfortunately we’re just not sure why this isn’t working” to tears and more tears right up to “I’m so very sorry, but this is all we can do.”

We stayed with her night and day, and still before we knew it, she was gone.

Mom was one of those women who could (and would) do everything. She loved us, fed us, had a fabulously and almost childish laugh, danced, taught us how to sew and create and curtsy, get along with Dad, AND be a bad ass??????

My sister, who gardens like a similar first-class badass in addition to raising sheep (LOTS of them) and growing food for the family, pretty much took on Mom’s role and keeps us together.

Three children — each forging their own path and as different as night and day. It didn’t matter a wink how different we were (and still are). I’m so deeply grateful that we’re all still together and helping each other along the path. Life isn’t always easy, and that’s an understatement, but we love each other.

Thank You Mom
Love Always

On the Wind

/ Pam Goode / 6 Comments

A mother is passing me on the wind,
with the shaping, re-shaping 
of life, of this life, of my life,
of our life, 
in this most fragile fabric of life.

And her whispers hold fast as my worlds careen,
shifting wildly at 20, now 30, now 40 and 
more there than here, and then there, and then here — 
as I age and I wait and I watch for your song, 
as I wait and I watch for you there,
as I age and I wait and I age and I watch, as I age, and still you do not.

And the time that I opened my soul to the waiting,
with winds washing through me,
around me, into me,
with voices and songs of full ten thousand souls 
all rushing to soothe and to shape and to soothe
for this fast-coming onslaught
of loss, always loss,

as I’m filling my mind with the stories and songs 
of love and of life and of change, 
— too much change —
and I knew, of course,

it was here.

A mother is passing me on the wind as she reaches once more for my hand, 
and I know ….
and I know, and I know, and I don’t want to know,
not so soon, not this soon, not this soon,
but I know.

And the ashes fly slowly through peace and through tears 
as she takes to the sea that she loves — 
on the wind, with the wind, kiss the wind as she swirls, 
as she flies her way out to the sea, to the sea,
as she clings to the sea, to the sand, to the the sky, 
and all of heaven between — 
as she sings her hello and goodbye and hello, 

and then one day, hello and hello.

The Hard Days

/ Pam Goode / 6 Comments


Have you ever had a really good day turn into a really, really bad day in an instant? I’m not talking about Alexander his Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. We all have those. Not fun, but they pass, and sometimes with cake involved.

I’m thinking about the pain of those we love. Those who mean the world to us, who take care of us from birth to death, from first glance to last, those who explain how the world works and tell you daily how much you mean to them, those who cherish your every glance, every grin, every messy floor, even when you’re sulky.

Sulky is hard, and harder some days than others. But the hardest is loss.

We all have to deal with it from time to time, but it never gets easier, does it? The only thing that makes us feel better is memory, and memory can fill your soul again and again and again.

So fill me up, Buttercup. We need to spread some extra love today.

Somebody needs us.

What else are we here for?

Photo by Pam Goode