Category: love

Just an Old T-shirt

Alice Lundy8 Comments

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Just an old t-shirt,

All I asked my sister for,

Her husband’s old t-shirt,

Her husband who died.

Was it only three months ago?

Now, I know why a man

Said to my mom just weeks

After my brother died,

You’re not over that yet?

It wasn’t callousness or ignorance.

If you don’t own the grief, you

Push it as far away as possible.

That crap’s contagious!

Man, it can bring you down.

But, when you own it,

When that grief is yours,

You’re busy bracing,

Trying to balance, breathe.

Craning not to be crushed

By grief’s weight—

Makes everything heavy,

Even just an old t-shirt,

From a guy who’s not here anymore,

But is everywhere in this house.

Once he wore that old t-shirt.

He’s the only one who wore that old t-shirt.

It was his old t-shirt. Now,

I’m going to wear it, dye my hair in it.

I’ll stain it and it will never be the same,

Like everything else.

 

 

 

 

 

You Can Learn a Lot from a Dog

Alice Lundy2 Comments

 

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If my beautiful Black Lab Phoenix was sent to me as a gift from God, to love, lead, and teach me, what would her messages be?

You’re loved unconditionally. You’re chosen. Have fun! Laugh. Snuggle. Go for walks. I’m here for you. Where you go, I go. I’ll protect you. Let the love in. FEEL it. Admit your fears. Be yourself. Enjoy the seasons—all of them. Have a ball. Get out in nature. I’m so happy when you come home! I’m happy when you pay attention to me. And so are you. Get enough sleep. Listen to your body. Look into people’s eyes. Stretch. Dream! You have the ability to love unconditionally. Don’t try so hard. Lean in for love. You’re beautiful just the way you are. Eat right. Eat what feels right. Smell everything. Drink water. Spend time with those you love. It all works out. There’s always enough. Love comes back. It’s worth the wait. Open your heart. Guard your house; be careful who you let in. Love the one you’re with. There’s nothing to forgive. I understand more than you’ll ever know. Jump for joy. Make some noise. Chase something. Don’t pretend. Play. I’m here. I’m here. I’m here. Sometimes life’s uncomfortable. It’s an honor to care for your loved ones. Tune in to love. I love you. I adore you. You!!! It’s ok to be vulnerable and scared. Like who you like. Be your sweet self. LOVE.

 

Fully Loved

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Maybe because Kevin and I knew each other for 25 years before we became us, we established a no-bullshit zone. It’s not that we never had run-ins. We did, but we had depth, connection and intimacy that went way beyond the physical. Ours was the kind of relationship we both sought our whole lives & never found. It was crazy, sexy, cool, and so were we.

Kevin believed that somehow his mom brought me back into his life so he could have the kind of love she always wanted for him. Who was I to disagree? It made me feel safe—like he wouldn’t hurt or dump the woman his mom brought! He didn’t.

He loved me so well—with honest, masculine courage and vulnerability. Kevin was such a man. He made way for me to be, in all my femininity. He honored my mind, thoughts and dreams. Kevin got me and my writing—all of it. He read it all. He gave me pens and wrote me epic love letters. We danced, laughed, traveled, watched movies and TV, and talked. That guy could talk!

I don’t regret one single moment or feel anything is left unsaid. I don’t question how Kevin felt about me, our relationship, Hilary Clinton, my dad, drugs, my book, guns, cops, or basketball. Ok, maybe basketball. He knew I didn’t care and it was cool.

We thought we’d have a long time together. I thank God ours was no rose-colored-rearview-mirror relationship or overly focused on the future. Sure, we had plans. We planned on being in New Orleans the day of his memorial service. We intended to enjoy the trip Kevin won for outstanding sales booked for Dublin, Ireland in April.

Kevin and I were always excited about our time together. Although we had less than two calendar years as a couple, I feel like I got a decade worth of love—the most real love I ever had. We lived our moments full. We didn’t miss a thing—except more time.

Cherish Me

Alice Lundy1 Comment

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Or take me for granted.

Time sees me sneaking out

Without you noticing.

I carouse the town,

Cause trouble for you,

Make a bad name for me.

I whoop and holler,

Cause a scene. You

See no connection

And call me crazy.

 

Or, cherish me.

See a new side of a woman.

Enter the doorway to ecstasy.

Let your wings take flight.

Land lucky breaks.

Get engulfed in laughter.

Walk tall, speak clear, earn respect.

While other men make way.

 

I stay by your side—

Full, free, feminine,

Your lady, your lover,

Your friend.

 

Cherish me!

I honor you.

 

Make mad passionate

Intense intimate real

Love to you, with you,

Body and soul.

 

Settle for less?

Haven’t we observed

And endured enough?

 

I, as a woman, deserve to be cherished.

You, as a man, deserve to be honored.

 

I honor you.

Cherish me.

 

 

 

 

 

Strings on Gifts

Alice Lundy2 Comments

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When your sister’s husband dies

You drop everything

As if you could do anything

About the thing that’s kicking her ass.

Damn, if it don’t make you ache to

Watch her brave it, and badly.

Because there’s no good way to do this;

Grief doesn’t look good on anyone.

Oh, it might make you wise.

Sure, someday, some way

The thing that takes you to the brink

Will bring you back with compassion.

Yeah, soon my sister’s life will

Feel like a call to action.

But, today, this moment,

It’s like a girl—if she had any—

Getting kicked in the balls.

A girl I grew up with.

A girl who stood up to life

When it told her to play it small.

She shouted, “Give me something big!”

It did. And took it away.

A high price to pay,

What she was asking.

Unprepared, as we all are

For gifts and their strings.

The Love Remains

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I sit with my sadness. I let my tears flow. I wail.

I own my anger. I am mad and say so—hoping to transcend it.

I acknowledge others’ pain. I am not alone. I fill with compassion.

I call out his name: Fire! Fire! Fire! I feel his presence and hear him say, “I’m here, Icey. I’m here!”

I read his letters and remember. Joy—his, mine, ours. I return to the love. The love remains.

Awash in Love

Alice Lundy1 Comment

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He loved the scar on my lip.

And my tiny little tits.

He loved the way my hair fell on my face.

He petted my eyelashes!

He made his shoulder my pillow.

When I left the bed to let the dog out, he hollered,

“Come back, Icey! Come back!”

He wrote me epic love letters and recently claimed a song of

Van Zants’ as his own. When I put the Fire to the fire over that,

He said it felt like his because that’s how he feels about me.

I look back now at songs I thought he wrote early on because they had “ICE” in them. The songs weren’t originals, but Kevin was.

For me, he was like the original man. I know it’s crazy, but he

Washed away the sins of all the men who came before and

He washed my slate clean. He LOVED me and freed me from

The chains of my past. I cannot explain it. I only know it’s true.

Kevin Lentz blessed me and if you knew him, he blessed you.

 

 

Warrior for Love

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I’ve learned how to love a man by watching wise women. Mostly, they’ve learned the way we all do—life. Some of the best relationships I’ve seen are third-rounders by try-harders determined to get it right. Others are first-timers who acknowledge luck, serendipity, and stick-to-it-ness.

My best friend learned by leaving and slamming the door for a damn good reason on the only man she ever loved—then, opening it to find him and love again.

Women getting love right, I salute you. Women who found your ideal mate, no matter how many frogs you fell for along the way, well done. Those of you stacking up the decades and gluing them together with joy, hard work, and well-earned connection, impressive.

From you women warriors, my family and friends, I’ve learned we each choose what works for us, what we’re attracted to, and what we cannot or will not tolerate. For me, it’s nonchalance that I absolutely refuse to endure. It’s connection and intimacy that invite me stay beyond reason.

I’ve learned one can see an upsetting truth about one’s mate and set it aside for the sake of the relationship. That doesn’t mean you’re stupid (or smart), just your eyes are open.

I’ve learned you have to want to stay. You have to want to make it work. Yet, you cannot manufacture those desires any more than you can make magically appear the one with whom you’ll feel that way.

But, when you do, as long as he also wants to stay and make it work, anything can be a source of growth.

Wise women, you’ve shown me marriage is a balance between working on it and letting go, being true to yourself by speaking your mind—even when you may look like a bitch or a baby—and respecting with compassion that your mate comes from a different perspective.

Watching you gals, I’ve seen the variety of relationships and marriages and how each pair is an entity of its own personality, rules and character. Ideally, whatever the shape, it represents a synergy in which two individuals become better because of the presence of the other.

You’ve kept me believing in serendipity, and yes, even in my fifties, there’s someone wonderful for me. I shall do my best to apply lessons learned. I’m no longer a girl. I’m a woman, a warrior for love.

Why I Love Christmas

Alice Lundy2 Comments

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I was the baby of three children. In my mind there was my dad’s favorite—my sister, my mom’s favorite—my brother, and the extra child—me. It seemed my parents loved me in a perfunctory way. Of course they loved me; I was their child.

But there was no call for anyone in our family to reach out, hug another or say the words. And for me to tell them I loved them? Well, first of all, it didn’t occur to me and if it had, I wouldn’t have risked the rejection.

My parents weren’t bad people. Somehow though, they took their parents’ failings and rationalized them into sound child-raising principles. When as a little girl, my tongue would get the best of me by offering some idea, or worse, my feelings, a towering figure condemned, “Who asked you?!”

At Christmas though, someone did. My parents asked me what I wanted. They actually wanted to know. There was no right or wrong answer to get in trouble over. They even wanted a list! Then, miracle or miracles, they tried their best to give me what I wanted.

Inside each gift I found proof that my parents loved me and cared about my heart’s desires. For that one day, I was allowed to be excited, have opinions, and even play. On Christmas day, children came first. We were a family. We kids were the only ones who fought, and it was over toys.

For that one day, my parents’ attention focused on us. I was allowed to hug my mother and show appreciation.

On Christmas day we ate a predictable meal, usually ham, my favorite. We weren’t forced to sit at the table for hours “until you finish everything on your plate.”

My dad couldn’t work on Christmas. He stayed home all day.

Spoken or unspoken, my parents obviously decided they wouldn’t fight. No arguments, no anger. Maybe they had their moments, unnoticed by a child, but the peace in our home didn’t feel pretend. It felt real. It was the peace of Christmas, if only for that one day.

Woman

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I’m not a toy

To be played with

And tossed aside.

I’m not a showpiece

To be displayed

On your arm.

I’m not a prize,

Inflated proof of your

Self-created success.

I’m not a pet or a doll or

A possession of any kind.

I walk by the sight of my soul.

There’s only one man I

Follow in this world.

He’s here and he’s not.

I don’t need your permission

To walk behind you.

I was born from your side

To be by your side.

If you can’t abide by

The beauty of nature,

Mine and yours,

Faults and vulnerabilities too,

Just remember, I got us into this.

Me, and that damn apple, but you

Damn well better believe I—

By the grace of God—

Will get us out.