Empty Eggshell

Just being there is enough...

Empty Eggshell

Another dark dull and dismay day

Of squeaky wipers dispelling spray

Through stormy travelling tailgates

Driving distressed at a snail-pace

 

Challenged with even more frustration

On arriving at concluding destination

Continually circling the one way track

As care home’s parking is jam-packed

 

Finally a space furthest the main door

But an hour later than the week before

I’ve still to endure the receptionist glare

Buzzing me in from her security chair

 

Signed in now thus committed to stay

Wondering how I will be greeted today

Disinfectant and stall urine scented air

In the corridor maze makes me swear

 

Apprehension grips entering the room

Where divan and chair are entombed

And serenely sleeping in linen sheets

Lays a lady I’ve come to lovingly greet

 

Reflectively gazing rekindles memories

Of a woman once full of kind energies

A nurturing symbol of strong maternity

In this heart will be encased eternally

 

Chest rising and falling at placid pace

I observe a pallid sheen upon her face

And she appears small delicately frailer

Her flavour fading and becoming paler

 

Like a breakable ornate empty eggshell

Exhibited lovingly in radiance she dwells

But although light veneer seems intact

The senses inside the void now contract

 

Been here an hour and a fluttering of eyes

Turning head towards me almost surprised

Who is it she questions seeing me there

Your son come to bring some comfort here

Copyright @ Phillozofee 2020

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

Oh my, how I could relate to this sad poem about visiting your Mother in a nursing home. Right down to the smells which I never miss. Mainly because my senses can be so acute. This builds with aprehension, and reminds me of my visits to see my own lovely mum two hundred miles away. Never quite knowing what to find. Mine still remembers me, but I don't know how much longer that will continue. Eggshells, yes that fragility, I understand. This poem pulls at the heartstrings, superbly portrayed Phill.

Chris

[Phill Oz O'fee]

Thank you Christine - I just had to put down in words the emotional portrayal =of my visits ... :-)

[Chris Shaw]

You did so and powerfully felt too. An emotional roller coaster which can leave you feeling drained.

[Chris Shaw]

The preciousness of the egg wasn't lost to me, neither its change in state.

[barleygirl]

This is what I love about you . . . very little sentimentality & a ton of reality . . . you take us right into this scene & let us feel it with all the senses, but not going sappy with any particular tirade over care or aging issues. It just is what it is & that's what I love about your writing. But lack of sentimentality doesn't mean your writing is stark or cold, becuz there's also a ton of warmth & humanity coming thru (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Ted Kniffen]

I too know this visit quite well...my mom has dementia, so a visit is always an adventure...like having a new mom every time I see her.
She's 95 now and last week she had an episode and I was called to go in and calm her down. It took a while,
but by the time I left she had returned to what is normal for her these days.
Not a pleasant experience at all.

My sympathies Phill...she's somewhere inside that shell and maybe from time to time she'll remember.

Take care.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

and all the king's horses and all the king's men can't put one back together again.....
once the eggshell becomes an empty portal...and it is so sad.

[Phill Oz O'fee]

Kudos Jacob - both your remarks hit the mark and are welcomed at this time... :-)

[jacob erin-cilberto]

my dad spent his last year and a half in a dementia unit...i hear you on this poem...he was a shell of the strong man he once was...the one who held the family together...who was always the backbone...the strength...was tough seeing his memory and sharpness disappear.
my mom never made it to the home...but she was only a shell of herself at the end, as well..
life moves on, and then will move on without us.
j.

[emmajoy]

Phil, exhaling here..... As your words move in bewildering steps from carpark ito place into room into utter dismay,, your post hurts a little more. I know places like this, not for our darling little mum but other dear people. and volunteer sessions.. it's hard and it hurts. Takes time and sad, sad efforts to remove the emotions when you leave. Hurts, stings. But, loving someone isn't t for the happy, social times, it's for as long as it takes.

Such a tragic truth, needing to be shared, needing to be faced that bit extra that is - in fact, a mountain climb. This is very special writing.

[Phill Oz O'fee]

Thank you for sharing your very supportive words ... :-)

[‘Thoughts In Time..]

Oh wonderful that you visit and care...so many are alone and nobody cares...yes they seem to just exist once they become old and frail....but they are still there we need to give them something to believe in ...🌹

[Phill Oz O'fee]

Thank you for your kind review - most appreciated ... :-)