Life is full of bumps in the road that challenge the heart and cause anxiety. There have been small bumps and huge ones in my lifetime, but I weathered the traumas along the way with my husband for 48 years until last year.
I am sharing the beginning of a lament poem that I wrote last year. A sudden illness that we thought was from weight loss with Ozempic led to a traumatic series of decline that occurred within less than a month. I felt as though I was walking on the edge of darkness.
(c) CVarsalona, 2026
Loss and grief are difficult emotions to handle amongst the ordinary and not-so-ordinary happenings of last year. Each stage of my bereavement journey took me through dark passages and weird dreams. In the beginning, everything seemed unreal because of the unexpected diagnosis that echoed like a foghorn. My husband's body was ravaged by a rare, incurable form of cancer in the pancreas. The continuous decline and sleepless nights broke his spirit. We hardly had time to deal with the big picture with his constant infusions and falls. Then, the end drew near. The family felt the sting of what was to come. Friends in the community formed a team. Dinners were delivered. Prayers were ongoing. Family was supportive. Devoted priests and staff offered spiritual support, a lovely memorial mass, and a luncheon for all those who attended the ceremony. The beginning part of my journey was surreal. Thankfully, writing seems to bring a sense of calmness to my mind, spirit, and body, so I write to help the sting of loss go away.
Thank you to those in the Two Writing Teachers community who listen and comment.
There have been many times when my life has felt fragile and uncertain. Since last year at this time, I have walked an uneasy spiritual journey filled with bumps along the way.
This Slice of Life month of daily messages will be dedicated to my one word, restore. Restoring my soul and renewing my heart will be my goal through writing prose and poetry.
Bear with me as I find support and calmness along the way.
On Day 21 of Laura Shovan's February Poetry Project, Marilyn R. Garcia invited writers to explore the mystery between sadness and joy in their lives or the world around them. She challenged writers to write a poem about a time or period of life where the coexistence of sadness and joy was strong for you.
It is difficult to believe that it has been 10 months since my husband passed away suddenly. I found the above digital artwork that I created years ago. My journey since then has been one of unbelief, to anxiety, to grief. But it has also been a time of discovery. I tackle questions, such as who am I and where am I going.
My goal is to restore my soul, mind, and body. Plus, I realize that it takes many miles of walking on my spiritual journey to find peace. With sunlight not making regular trips this winter, grey clouds seem to agitate my mind. Recently, I wrote a blog post about holding the sun close to my heart. As the song, Restore My Soul, states, "revive my heart" is what I need.
I started this blog post with a proposed prompt to write a poem about a time or period of life where the coexistence of sadness and joy was strong for me. During the winter season, I have felt the sadness of loss and grey skies along with the joy of being with family, especially my three little grandgirls. The prompt by Marilyn R. Garcia asks us to take the lyrics from one of the Beatles' mysterious songs and make them make sense.
Keeping in line with the sorrow and joy of winter without continual sun is a mystery to me. Winter doldrums have brought unrest. The ending line of my blackout poem is what I would like to bring an optimistic point of view during this bereavement time.
Here Comes the Sun by the Beatles
Here comes the sun , doo-doo-doo
Here comes the sun
And I I say, "It's all right"
Little darlin'
It's been a long, cold onely , l winter
Little darlin'
It feels like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun , doo-doo-do
Here comes the sun
And I say, "It's all right"
Little darlin'
The smiles return ng to the faces
CVarsalona, 2026
A simple prompt helped me realize that sorrow and joy can coexist. If I hold on to hope and faith, my journey may not be as bumpy as it has been. I look forward to a smile opening each day.
Writing grounds me!
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I thank Irene Latham for her recent blog post with an inspiring ending line to her poem "Watermelon, you"-:"Teach me how to hold the sun when the day is anything buy joyful".
winter's sun offers
both darkness and light with love
mystery of weather
CVarsalona, 2026
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In addition, I am adding my draft poem for today's Poetry Sisters' February Challenge with Sara, Tanita, Tricia, Mary Lee, and Laura. I choose to use the 25th Poet Laureate of the USA, Aurthur Sze's First Snow poem as my mentor text. I offer a Golden Shovel draft poem with the strike line: the world of being is like this gravel.
dreams melt like the
falling snow in our swishing world
that holds the challenges of
of my swirling life - being
part of continual uncertainty is
unmeasurably worrisome - like
rabbits jumping from here to there this
journey reminds me of winter's icy gravel
(trying to melt what is in my way)
draft-CVarsalona, 2026
The companion photo will be created at a later time.
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I join the Poetry Friday Roundup with our host, Margaret Simon, educator, author, poet, and friend. Margaret is offering us three lovely poems she penned for the Ethical ELA Open Write.
As usual for these winter days, the sun seems to be outshone by gray skies. While this weather pattern seems odd, it is a reality, something that I need to adjust to this season. As I walk the spiritual journey, I always seek shreds of wisdom. It just so happened that Irene Latham shared her blog poem at Live Your Poem this past Friday. One line resonated with me, and so I kept it in my heart.
"Teach me how to hold the sun when the day is
anything but joyful."
These lines will stay with me as a reminder to be optimistic in the face of challenges while maintaining hope.
I know how to teach,
but how do I teach me?
Is there a way to understand how?
Perhaps I should reach out to
winter's doldrums - hold
all that the season offers in the
middle of my hand when the sun
does not shine. When
the sky provides the
the gift of light on a certain day
there is
an expectation that anything
can open my heart, but
only with the spirit of joyfulness.
draft CVarsalona, 2026
Slice of Life
February 24, 2026
Join me as I come into the light on a winter's day.
Join me at Susan Thomsen's blog, Chicken Spaghetti, for the Poetry Friday Roundup. Susan is hosting this weekend, so she invited everyone to write a poem inspired by a prompt from David Lehman. The poem should start with the final line of Whitman's "Song of Myself", I stop somewhere waiting for you. Susan added her own poem, "Flurries of Winter" for our reading pleasure.
Days pass by. The sun remains covered by ethereal clouds of gray. Cold temperatures negate the ability of walkers to take a winter walk while admiring winter's beauty. I sit watching the snow lessening while leaving patches of earth’s greenery for me to enjoy.
Something nags at my heart. Is it grief, sadness, or both? Is the shadowed sun grasping for a glimpse of spring or the feel of warmth coming from its rays? Where is there a heart healer? At the stroke of morning, a new February Poetry Project prompt is offered by poet/author/educator, Margaret Simon. “Choose a crystal to use as a muse for your poem today”. Like Margaret, I chose a shadorma poem format to write my thoughts.
It is said that Mangano Calcite uplifts the human heart and body. The next time I am near a jewelry boutique, I shall browse through the crystals to find this one. For the time being, I shall listen to the beautiful, calming song, Restore My Soul, that I found to embellish my one word, "restore".
It's Friday the 13th and the sun finally turns the sky to a positive shade of sunshine rather than this morning's grayish color. I now turn my thoughts to Poetry Friday with the talented and creative poet, Robyn Hood Black, who is hosting today. It looks like it will not be an unlucky day with Robyn at the helm. If you go to Robyn's blog post, you can see some very charming products she creates at .
On Day 9 of Laura Shovan's February Daily Poetry Project, the prompt led me to remember a secret that was untold until I was in grad school. Rachel Patton Toalson chose the theme. secrets stating "I've been thinking lately about how no matter how long you've known a person, there are still aspects of their lives that remain mysterious." I share with you a special story in my life that unfolded when I was a fledging adult.
At a very young age, I learned how to bake in Nonnie's kitchen.
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So you may have realized the secret. Now, I will tell you why there was a secret for so long. My Nonnie believed that her children should be Americanized once she arrived in America, around 1921. Since I was the oldest grandchild born in the United States, I needed to act like an American. That meant speaking English and graduating from college. Life was different in the 20th Century. I did not know that I was a first-generation child of Italian descent until I was an adult. Where are you from?
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Join me as I share my Slice of Life with my Two Writing Teachers from across the globe. Click here.
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