I’m 95 Today
Today is my 95th birthday
and I’m tired
I can’t catch my breath
and my chest feels tight
And I’m tired, so very tired
It’s good to be out of that
awful hospital bed
At my daughter’s house instead
The trips from the hospital
to the rehab center and back
were getting old
Too old for this old lady
Too tiring for this old widow
I should tell you I’m 95 today
I don’t know why the Good Lord
doesn’t just take me home
I’ve been asking Him
for the past five years
I’ve told Him I’m tired
I don’t have the strength
to even get out of bed alone
And I miss Lou something awful
All I can do is pray
and so I do, I pray
maybe watch a little football
Did you know I’m 95, just today
It’s my birthday
I’m tired of birthdays
I hope I don’t have another
I’m just so very tired
I think I’ll just drift off
take a little nap
before family comes to visit
and they expect me to be social
Just a little nappy
Hey, what’s all this?
A birthday party just for me?
Lou, is that you? What are you doing here?
And Jesus? Is it really You?
You threw this 95th birthday party
just for me?
I always knew You loved me
The prompt at dVerse Poets Pub Meeting the Bar today is to write in the first person. I do that a lot and so it didn’t seem like much of a challenge. But then Victoria suggested writing in first person but as someone else. I decided to write from the perspective of a dear old friend of mine who passed away a couple of weeks ago and whose memorial service I will be attending this weekend.
SonG oF God..
SinG oF LiFe..:)
You did a great job of playing the role….I’ve heard it time and again also..one reaches a point when they want to go. It’s not easy just getting old, either. 😉
I guess she finally went home.
Oh….this so reminds me of my mother in her last month or so. So tired of living and doing the mundane things of life for so many days, months, years after her Bud died. In the end, on her hospital bed, she just looked at me and said, “Lillian, I’m so tired.” and she closed her eyes and slept the sleep of ages. Connections — we are readers are drawn from words to our own thoughts and experiences. Thank you.
I worked in Long Term Care for many years and heard. many times, the same sentiments you shared here.
Your poem really touched me. My grandmother said to me at 96…”There should be a limit to how long a person lives”, referring to her quality of life. We may never know why God chose to keep her here into her 98th year, blind, deaf and bedridden. She was a pastor’s wife too with very strong faith that I’m sure was tested in the end.
A beautiful, heartfelt poem through the eyes of the elderly.
So many of us touched by this wonderfully written narrative. Last July we drove to TX to visit my mother-in-law, & helped her celebrate her 90th birthday; three days later we got the call on our way home that she had passed. Her husband was a minister; she was ready.
I do know that a certain time people really do have that desire to go ‘home.’ A cousin’s wife died of a long siege of Alzheimers a month or so ago, and my cousin said that she had felt this way…that she was indeed ready, very ready for life hereafter. On another note many years ago I had an aunt who was dying… Her birthday was coming. I traveled 100 miles to be with her to celebrate her birthday. Family was there with her. She had a bit of cake…but the next morning I got the phone call that she had passed away overnight. I TRULY believe that she waited to die until I (a favorite niece) had seen her… I do know that she was ready to go as well…..
So glad you got to have the last birthday visit with your aunt. I visited my friend two weeks before she passed, and for the several weeks she was in the hospital she held on, but then when she came home to her daughter’s on her birthday that was it. Peace, Linda
I know how your “I” feels – my mother just said “I’m tired” when she had her final stroke at 80, and now, I AM tired (at 78)
Now THAT would/will be a celebration!
Awwwww. So sweet. I love the ending of this.
This made me weep. My mom is 86, fragile, and has Alzheimer’s. But she still remembers how much Jesus loves her and I know, when her time comes, she too will have the joy of that party from Jesus. the haunting refrain of I’m 95 just lifted this to such glorious heights.
I’m glad this touched you so. The idea for the repeated refrain came from the last time I saw her and she asked me 4 times how my son was doing. She couldn’t remember what I had just said, but she remembered Jesus.
Wow Linda . . .thank you. My momma doesn’t have long to go now and this touched me so! God bless you!
My 91 year old M-I-L just got home from the hospital. So many medical problems… this hits close to home, Linda, but as you say it isn’t the end but the beginning.
I’m sad for your the loss of your friend. Prayers for peace and understanding for loved ones. … Your poem is very touching. I’m glad she got her final wish.
Thank you. It is sad for us that she is no longer with us, but I am truly happy for her and know I will see her again. Plus, I’m certain she is still praying for me like she always did. 🙂
This poem really touched me to the core Linda.
This reminds me so much of our neighbor across the street from us when we were growing up. Mrs. Taylor lived to be 102 or 103, I can’t remember which but years before her death she would wonder out loud about being ready to go and when she did go she just wanted it to be Jesus and she in her room alone, no family members, when the time came. I don’t know if she got her wish or not.
Aw…great idea to take on the persona of a 95 year old…my Mom’s age. The ending gave me the biggest smile.
Sigh. I can relate to this poem, Linda, but for different reasons, as I’m half of the age of your poem’s protagonist. Wondering,, will I be greeted, by love ones, who have passed, before me. Thank you, for sharing this little part of your life.
I can relate to that concern, too. And I have family now who refuse to believe there’s anything after this life. Peace, Linda
Oh .. that day will come for sure… I wonder how it will be.. sounds so good for your first person.
I do believe she is happier now, though we will miss her until we meet again.