Heavy Heart ~ prosery

Heavy Heart

It was not by choice, but he left much earlier than anyone expected, his body finally succumbing to the ravages of illness that had plagued his life. His last six months were the hardest for him. The hardest for us.

But we go on. And so she did, for another fifteen years. Missing his love. Missing the many things he’d done for all of their life together. She was overwhelmed at first, but we assured her that we would do anything for her.

And we did, but the time came when her own health issues became too much for her. As I sit beside her bed, holding her hand while she sleeps, I know that soon she will take her last breath. Both of my parents will be gone.

Sometimes the great bones of my life seem so heavy, no night heavier than this.

This is my response to Prosery: Bone Weary, the prompt from Linda Lee Lyberg at dVerse ~ Poets Pub. With Prosery, the challenge is to write a piece of flash fiction with a 144-word limit. I suppose this could be seen as fiction. Included in the bit of prose is to be a complete line from a poem. For this prompt, the line to be included is from “Spring Azures,by Mary Oliver.

“Sometimes the great bones of my life seem so heavy,”
                                                                                     – Mary Oliver

I’ve met the additional challenge of hitting the 144-word mark, exactly.

57 thoughts on “Heavy Heart ~ prosery

  1. This piece feels so real, it barely resembles fiction. Many of us are now nearer the end than the middle. We have become the infirmed, looked after by our children. And the great Wheel keeps on turning.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Dear Ken thank you for this. In these strange and difficult times of plague and ultimate skullduggery, it is so moving to hear a true cri de couer but now I wonder if I spelled that write or even right. Love you man. You and Ms B hang in there. God willing and the creek don’t rise I will have my dream to drive across the country, and my path comes through Missouri for several reasons. Keep safe so I can be selfish and see you again. Then. Until. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Coming up on the 20th anniversary of this event in my own life, KG. I feel this. Thanks for sharing so clearly. Awesome work, bravely recounted. Peace, Brother.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Beautifully expressed … and universal (though some may be a few years shy of realizing how universal) … letting go any loved one is hard, the one remaining parent especially significant. I’ve heard spiritual teachers say we finally grow up only after both parents have passed. However real or fictional your prosery, it definitely resonates. Mary Oliver is likely winking at you.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. This is so beautifully written. My mother lived 9 years after my father died….she missed him terribly. I had the privilege of being with her on her death bed and I leaned over and whispered to her, go on now, Mom. Go to dad. But oh it was hard. Your story is palpable in its realness to me.

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  6. This is gorgeously rendered, Ken. So close to the truths of life which we come across as we age. I am deeply sorry for the loss of your mother, they always remain in our hearts and our thoughts.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. This was heartbreaking. I almost lost my dad in December so I could really relate to the pain. It really makes you cherish each additional moment we have with our loved ones. Beautifully written.

    Liked by 1 person

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