Happy to again appear in Haibun Today 12:1 March 2018! Thank you, Ray Rasmussen!
Frank J. Tassone
Montebello, New York, USABreathless Vanity
Mom never left the house without looking immaculate. She would put on makeup, style her hair, and wear the best outfit just to pick up a carton of cigarettes. Even when I took her to Nyack Hospital’s emergency room, she made herself up right before we left.
After a week in acute care, she was discharged, but within days was rushed back into emergency. Now she lies on a hospital gurney. Her hair sticks out in every direction. She wears no make-up or classy clothes—only a hospital gown.
This morning, her eyes are too dry for tears. Her mouth quivers from exhaustion. Her bruised left arm is crumpled tissue paper after two weeks of IV insertions. Her attending physician tells me that she has double pneumonia.
Finally, the time came when she was supposed to come home. Now I wonder, will she ever?
rain-pelted window
her new roommate’s
untended moansNote: “Breathless Vanity” is a revision of “Another Emergency Room Check-in” which first appeared in Image Curve on January 12, 2017.
— Read on haibuntoday.com/ht121/H_Tassone_Breathless.html
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Frank J. Tassone 
Love the haibun… not your mum..was it?
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Aye, it was her, when she was still with us.
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I can really picture this scene vividly! So sad what sometimes happens at the end of one’s life. I truly hope I do not linger like your mum when it is my time.
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Describing her decay and the makeup made it very very real… the company of untended moans especially moving
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So telling Frank – powerful stuff that comes tom the very soul of your experience with your Mum. It certainly touched me…
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Thanks, Scott! I appreciate that!
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A very sad and personal piece. Aging and dying is not glamorous. I hope you are finding support and strength to make it through this difficult time.
Dwight
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Thanks, Dwight. I wrote this about a year before my mom passed away, which happened in Maybof 2016. It doesn’t get easier, but each day I recover a little more. Save for the grieving days when I don’t…
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I understand. I lost my mom in 2007. She was 93!!
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Mine made it to 76.
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Very hard to “like” this well-penned poem that is so heartbreaking and so familiar to me having recently gone through this with my mom and, before that, for many years as an RN in the field of death and dying. The apparent detachment of the haiku betrays deep pain, implied in the sole word “untended.” I don’t know if this is current, but, if so, my thoughts are with you. BTW, my mom and your mom must have had the same upbringing: 2 hours daily to “put on her face.” :0)
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Thanks, Victoria. I wrote this Haibun about a year or so before Mom passed away, when she began to get sick more frequently. She passed in May of 2016. Glad to hear your Mom and mine were two of a kind!
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This is so moving. I echo Victoria’s comments having recently gone through this with my mama who died in June 2017. She had a lingering death and suffered grestky. My mother had beautiful skin and no wrinkles. She rarely wore makeup but was always immaculate in her appearsnce. It was sad to watch this fading as she suffered. Like you I do well except on the days I don’t. The pain in this haibu n and haiku are apparent. I am so sorry you had to go through this.
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Describing her decay and the makeup made this poem heart wrenchingly real.. sigh.. wishing you peace and strength.
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I liked the descriptiveness of “untended moans” and “too dry for tears”. Congratulations on the publication!
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Thanks, Frank!
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Powerful….brings back painful memories of sitting with my mother on her death bed….details her so strong they stir my memory.
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Thanks, Lillian.
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Very sad but a moment caught well.
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Such a loving touch you have. I understand the feelings a d grief here.
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