May 7, 2026

Rhythms, Awe, and Memory

Posted by Mara Jevera Fulmer under beginnings, cancer, death, Family, friendship, grief, growth, love, marriage, mourning, surviving, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , |
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Ralph (left) and Louie, Silken Windhounds, my four-legged guardians.
Ralph (left) and Louie, Silken Windhounds, my four-legged guardians. Photo by Mara Jevera Fulmer

We lay on the soft pillows of the chaise, my four-legged guardians and I, perched upon the second-floor porch as the sun was slowly making its way across the horizon, not yet behind the newly budding trees. Their long shadows cast themselves through the flowering pear tree and its maple tree companion, laying themselves across the practically glowing emerald green grass. A chorus of birds filled the air around me.

I took in all of this magic, lost for a time in its spell, mindlessly stroking the soft fur of my pup Ralph, so silky it stirred a memory. I’d always been enamored by Steve’s hair which had that same silky texture, so fine, yet so playfully curly like a baby’s first grown length of hair. So much alike in that same silky way.

I was drawn back to his last hours, as he lay beside me in the bed. I could hear his slow yet shallow breathing, in…….. out…….. in…….. out…….. in…….. out…….. 

The oxygen generator was tucked away in the next room so as not to disturb us. In the bedroom, his breathing led us in a slow even rhythm, yet barely audible, while the music played softly in the background from the list I’d chosen of his favorite tunes. 

in…….. out…….. in…….. out…….. in…….. out……..

It was meditative in the most compelling way, like a swaying of the body that feels like we’re not alone, but part of a greater living breathing being, slow dancing with the rotation of the earth. 

In the past I have found myself fully embraced in the harmonic moments of similar slow and gentle rhythms. Such was the case when I found myself floating above a coral bommie in the South Pacific, caught in a flowing dance with schools of fish. All the colors of the rainbow, gently swayed with me in the glimmering of life-giving sunlight beaming down from above, yet spread like angel’s wings around us.

in…….. out…….. in…….. out…….. in…….. out……..

Back in the bedroom, I hear the stutter, the slowing pace of his breath. The time is near and I keep my own breath flowing as I listened for his last one. 

in…….……… out………..……..…..

The music ended, too, the last song, “Shake it Up, Baby” by the Beatles….. 

I looked over at him to confirm. “You dawg”, I said to his now silent body. A little laugh bubbled up inside at the awesome irony of his departing message. 

Yet tonight, the cool air now touches me from the setting sun. Ralph, my silken windhound, provides the silky touch of a memory. I remind myself to smile again.

Ralph smiles.
Ralph smiles, and reminds me to, as well. Photo by Mara Jevera Fulmer

 

April 3, 2026

I’m Rarely Alone in Here

Posted by Mara Jevera Fulmer under creative writing, Family, growth, love, Photos, surviving, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , , |
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Louie, the Silken Windhound, inspects a recently fallen tree after one of Mother Nature’s mood swings with high winds. Photo by the author.

It gets crowded sometimes in my world. My mother’s voice encouraging me to do what I do best. My dad yelling from the other room, “If you can’t do it right, don’t do it at all!” I know he didn’t really mean it as cruelly as it sounded. But my 16-year-old self took it quite hard.

They’re both gone now. But even so, nearly 50 years later, those words still ring in my ears at times, feeding self-doubt as I make my way, once again a widow in the world.

Other voices laugh, whisper, encourage, and cry softly. Keith, my first love, encourages me to take the risks. “Fiji? Why not?” He said. “Sounds good to me!” And so our path was set to the South Pacific, thirty-five years ago, and yet still seems like yesterday. 

Then and now, he sometimes would give me a hard time about being compulsive about things… but I was too timid, really, back then. So bravado sometimes came out instead. Aging without him here beside me these last 14 years has changed a lot of that in me. 

But it has changed him, too. His sometimes harsh teasing in the past has become softer, more assertively encouraging. “Don’t let your own self-doubt, and that imposter syndrome, take you down.” I can hear him whisper gently, but firmly in my ear.

I miss him holding my hand. I miss his hugs that seemed to wrap around me like a shield against the world’s troubles.

Steve, only 10 months gone, walks with me on occasion. Like the distracted child, he is off learning new things, or catching up with old friends in the world gone by, beyond the liminal veil that keeps him just out of my reach. I miss him holding my hand. I miss his hugs that seemed to wrap around me like a shield against the world’s troubles.

But I hear him when he decides to pop up into my head. “Yes! That’s the way. Don’t forget to shim the ends out,” he says. “Be careful to check the length of that screw for that door!” he reminds me, as I begin to install new shades in the living room. Thankfully I understood his guidance, since the barebones instructions that came with the packaging didn’t mention anything. And the Youtube videos were even less helpful.

I walk around the sunlit yard, still cold as Springtime brings Mother Nature’s mood swings. Today 70 and warm, tomorrow freezing with snow, the next day a little warmer again but with a harsh driving wind. But then along comes a dreary grey cold rain… and my mood swings, too. 

And sometimes I just want to stay in bed all day.

Then the visitors come. And they tell me – “Rise and Shine, my girl!” 

“You’ve still got a lot of living left to do! So don’t waste a minute of the life you have! For soon enough, you’ll be on the other side when your time comes, whispering advice to those left behind.”

I pull the covers harder over my head.

copyright 2026 © Mara Jevera Fulmer