During a jaunt around blog land
Through a process of google searches
Almost forty years later
A personal mystery unfolds
Nineteen seventy
March 30th
Late at night
I lay on the floor
In front of the oven
After three attempts
At baking
a birthday cake
For the sixteenth birthday
Of my crush
A long haired shy boy
Who bit his nails
To the quick
Smoked too many cigarettes
Had family problems
And always seemed sad
Who knows what the allure was
A need to rescue the underdog
My jovial personality
Seemed to crave the sullen opposite
The power behind the quiet
A couple of months later
Alan started dating a girl
In his own grade
Married her three years later
My jealous angst had dissipated
As I stood with my partner
Watching their honking limo
Drive up Lonsdale
During the day of their nuptials
I was married later that same year
Coincidentally my husband
Worked with him for a few years
He went on to have three children
Moved further up the mountain
Near my brother in law
Sixteen years passed
It was nineteen eighty nine
I had a rental house
Three cities from where he lived
It came time to sell
We got an offer on the place
The realtor pronounced the name
Of the prospective buyer wrong
I immediately corrected her
It was my crush from long ago
He wanted to buy my two bedroom house
With a finished basement
For his family of five
It was the only clean place they could find
Within their price range
I had moved up
He bought my house
He looked exactly the same
Only more disheveled and aged
I was grateful I never married him
Linda his wife was so sweet
I liked her immediately
They were meant for each other
Yesterday during my blog treks
I happened upon the annual Canadian poet’s award
I recognized it as his mother’s name
I read further
Recalling that fateful time
Two years after we were married
When she was sadly found murdered
Newspapers alluded to a random killer
I don’t recall hearing much after that
Seems her time here inspired books
About her, about her poetry, about her custody battle for Alan
Her sad demise by the hands of a teacher
her second husband bludgeoned her with a hammer
then dumped her in a creek miles away
Surprise surprise……did you doubt it?
Why are people always shocked when it’s the husband?
I was then........I'm not now!
11 comments:
oh no, how awful!
I can tell this really affected u giggles, I can feel your sadness for the whole entire situation in between your beautifully written lines.
As talented as she was, her talent wasn't strong in choosing a husband.
poor woman.
I skimmed a book from the library saying the same thing you just said, only not with as much entertainment. I think we all are standing around in life pretty much naked for those who have eyes to see and ears to hear. So, yeah, I always say, it was the wife, mother, husband, father and am almost always right. I'm not shocked anymore. Oh, dear I think that is being a cynic.
I skimmed a book from the library saying the same thing you just said, only not with as much entertainment. I think we all are standing around in life pretty much naked for those who have eyes to see and ears to hear. So, yeah, I always say, it was the wife, mother, husband, father and am almost always right. I'm not shocked anymore. Oh, dear I think that is being a cynic.
What a hauntingly tragic story. She's going to be on my mind for some time. I'd like to research now and read some of her poetry. You know, even as an English major in college, I was never fond of poetry. But now, that I'm in my second year of teaching poetry to high school students, I suddenly love it. All I can say is: How short-sighted I have been. I've been missing a lot!
He may not have made a good husband...but she might've been an interesting Mother in law.
How tragic Sherrie! I watch too much TV because it's usually the husband. HUG
Makes me very, very sad. And makes me remember those I know who have met that fate.
What a story this is! I followed and read all the links you posted and feel such compassion for the family and the poet. She had quite a style. Interesting that you would find all this - thanks for sharing...
She was taken but not forgotten. I wonder what she would write today?
very interesting post,, as i had not heard of pat lowther previously.. i read your post and the attached articles and i am spurred on to read some of her poetry,,, gonna search for some right now....
Wow. What an interesting poem. I love the way you described your post, and how life is full of things we like to call coincidences. Are they really? And the woman who was murdered? How awful!
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