Tag: Death

Poem for an Image

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#10: A Senryu, Collaged Real & Cartoon’d Tre

Heading Out: Saturday, November 01, 2025. Photo Collage Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt|Cartoon’d Tre by Google Gemini

GAINING confidence
“fifteen minutes at a time”
l i v i n g without her

Have you gotten your copy of Séduire: Serial Tales & Flash Fiction at Lulu in E-Book & Paperback versions, or Amazon in Paperback (only) yet?

I am on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak about recent events with a previous place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination, growth from the transition after resigning from that company, and life’s foibles and overall experiences. I welcome your visit.

Poem for an Image

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#9: Care Package

A friend of mine popped up to my job on Thursday to lay a care package at my feet. In it, a lovely card, fuzzy socks (my favorite item of comfort clothing!), a most suitable coffee mug, chocolate (made with oat milk), the indomitable writer and spoken word phenomenon, Lisa Marie Lovett’s (SeasonedDialogue on all platforms) book, a pleasantly fragranced candle, and a beautiful plant. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
Care Package by Tremaine L. Loadholt

I hadn’t realized how poignant Jernee’s
death was until the people I love
started gifting me things that
make my heart smile.

Out of the blue, pieces of this
world made their acquaintance with me.
A book, a candle, a mug, some fuzzy socks,
decorative window ornaments, and so
much more.

How did that little four-legged creature
jump into the hearts of others
just as she sashayed effortlessly into mine?

To have someone pop up at the gig
casually ask for you, and then
unload a hug so deep it
touches your soul while handing
you a wicker basket full of what
now connects you even more to them
is love personified.

I didn’t have the words. I almost
didn’t have the legs to stand on
because the gesture had been a
sweet blow to my heart.

I wrapped her in my arms, thanked her
profusely, and assured her that
these gifts will never go unnoticed.
They are the divine circling us back
into each other’s line of sight.

Talking points of a loss heavier than
any I have ever experienced; a feature
film open for all to see.
There are only a few seats left
at the table of love… come one, come all
while there’s still time.

This friend is a former co-worker of mine. While I simply shifted back to a department where I previously worked, we are still employed by the same organization. I am now back to being patient-facing, and I no longer work from home. She still does. We correspond with each other regularly via Teams and text message; however, to see her smiling face this past Thursday, and to know just how special I have to be to her for her to tap into all the things that bring me peace and joy, lets me know that our friendship is forever.

Below is a YouTube Short of one of my favorite Spoken Word Poets, Lisa Marie Lovette, aka Seasoned Dialogue. The fact that she copped her book for me left/leaves me speechless.

Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?

I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak about the most recent events with a previous place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination, growth from the transition after resigning from that company, and life’s foibles and overall experiences. I welcome your visit.

Sometimes, I Just Need Poetry

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An audio lamentation for Jernee and this battered world of ours

Jernee Timid’s paw prints, courtesy of our vet’s office. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
Sometimes, I Just Need Poetry by Tremaine L. Loadholt

my baby’s prints came today…
her paws…
I’d been waiting for them
since the 12th of September.
a lovely sympathy card
accompanied the red pieces
of art, neatly tucked behind them.
every member of our vet’s office
signed it.
their words and names crowding
the corners.
I smile. I cry. I remember the
best part of my life
no longer exists.

I stand at the edge of
my kitchen, shifting on
the balls of my feet. I am
shaking. I tilt my head to
look at each print, and the
smell of Jernee wafts across
the room and lingers in the
hallway. she’s still alive
in me; she hasn’t let go.
or, maybe I’m still holding on?

Zumi pats at the glass of its
terrarium, bargaining for my
attention, and I rush over to
see what the fuss is about.
food? check. water? check.
I think it just wants to hear my
voice, so I call its name in
a sing-songy way to appease it.
Zu-mi, Zu-mi, Zuuuumiiii.
what a silly tortoise you are.
it looks up at me and then
walks with urgency to its
hidey-hole.
we all need comfort.
tortoises are not exempt.

our home is quieter than it’s
ever been. the tapping of
paws are no longer morning
gifts or late-night signals of
an impatient senior dog who
“had me at, hello.”
I don’t know what I’m doing
with this life of mine now,
I’m just mulling on—making do.

I say that all I need is work—to
keep busy, but I think I am
telling myself this because I
am afraid of what will happen
to me if I sit down and focus
on every passing thought of
a love that was the greatest
love I’ve ever known.
where will I land if I
give my heart permission to
break and stay broken?

is there a name for people
who are no longer whole
without the pets they spent
nearly two decades becoming
one with? I don’t like having to
answer the same questions
every other day: “How are you?”
How are you holding up?”
“What are you doing with
yourself now?”

I wish there was a perfect way to
say, “I am cracking and folding
into myself because somehow
I no longer feel safe alone
with my brain, heavy heart,
and dying soul. somehow, I
no longer feel safe in this
body. something is not right.
something is not right.

it’s more than losing Jernee,
it’s all the ick of the world
that is seeping into our
skin, making our veins its home.
we’re trapped.
so, sometimes, I just need poetry
when everything is wrong
around me, and there’s no
guarantee it’ll change.

I need poetry to help me
remember who… and why
I am.

Originally published in Poking the Bear’s Belly on Substack.

Poem for an Image

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#8: Playing Catch-up

Birthday Gifts for Caison and Jaidynn (my baby cousins). Jaidy’s birthday was on August 11th, and Caison’s birthday is October 7th. Jaidy’s gifts are called “Just Because” gifts in her card, but I could not afford to get her anything for her birthday this year because Jernee was so sick and in and out of the Emergency Vet, and my poor pockets had been SCREAMING bloody murder. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

caring for my dying love made
my pockets thinner than
before–I missed Jaidy’s birthday.

it’s a blow to my pride to
not be able to shower my girl
with gifts on the day she was gifted to us.

making up for it at the same
time Caison’s 8th approaches
will push my heart to higher heights.

she knows where I stand.
she remembers every offering of
love she has ever received from me.

now that there isn’t a mouth
begging for money I can’t get
from trees, the babies shine brighter.

I’m playing catch-up, and I
am not ashamed to admit why I
couldn’t give what I wanted to.

I am not ashamed because life
happened upon me in a way
I never thought it would.

Death costs an arm and a leg,
and after you’ve run out of those limbs,
there aren’t many more to give.

Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?

I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak about the most recent events with a previous place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination, growth from the transition after resigning from that company, and life’s foibles and overall experiences. I welcome your visit.

horde escape & on our terms

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Two poems shared on Substack notes

horde escape

you will most likely never find me in
a horde of people looking as though
I’m in a place that carries comfort.

If I am, I assure you, I’m forcing my
body to be at peace, to try to enjoy my
surroundings. I’m never at ease in
those situations.

they are few. they are far between.
the path leading to them fades away
more as the years pile on to my age.

I am not who I used to be, I’m a
new person in an old body.
I’m both familiar and unfamiliar, and this
is what intrigues
you.

on our terms

the most difficult thing I experienced
with Jernee during her decline were the
lucid moments. I feared becoming
looped into their trap.

she wasn’t the same, and I knew
that, heart & soul, but sometimes my
baby would look up at me as if she
recognized my face, and I’d be putty
in five seconds.

“it’s only going to get worse” became the
anthem in my home, followed by, “this
sounds like a brain tumor,” and with
each regressive instance, I was
reassured…

I cut death to the quick, and
offered it a seat at the table.

if it was going to take my baby, it’d
be on our terms.
but was it, though?

Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?

I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak about the most recent events with a previous place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination, growth from the transition after resigning from that company, and life’s foibles and overall experiences. I welcome your visit.

The Sweet Reminder of Dog Heaven

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A Book Review

Dog Heaven by Cynthia Ryfant. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

A writing buddy had the above book delivered to me on Saturday, September 13, 2025. I’d viewed my camera/doorbell’s activity while I was visiting with my mother and noticed someone leaving a package. I hadn’t ordered anything, so my mind began racing about what it could be. Shortly after, I recalled a lovely and talented writing friend of mine requesting my mailing address; confirming it, really, and a lightbulb flickered.

Part of me wanted to get home to see what it could possibly be, and the other part of me wanted to remain right where I was with my mom, so as to not shed any more tears for the weekend.

I was happy to see the above book. Although I would mark the age range for this book for children, ages 4-12, anyone can benefit from reading Dog Heaven. It gave me all the feels and lifted me up during my deepest moments of sorrow.

Below is the review I left for it on Amazon and Goodreads.

I needed this book! 

After recently losing my sweet Little Monster of 17 years, I came home from visiting my mom and found this book at my door.

A writing buddy of mine had it sent to me. Knowing my connection and love for my dog, she thought it would be the perfect gesture. Someone she knows had the same book delivered to her shortly after she dealt with the loss of her dog.

Dog Heaven not only made me smile, but it calmed my heart. It allowed me to shed a few tears while reflecting on the best memories I have of my time spent with my little one. It made me believe my purpose was fulfilled with my dog.

Chock full of happy feelings, sweet illustrations, and a loving storyline for everyone to enjoy, Dog Heaven is a great book to gift to someone grieving and dealing with a fresh loss of their pet.

It’s a tiny glimmer of hope, sprinkled with joy, and wrapped in love.

Grief is going to continue to come in waves. Mourning will only be as beautiful and self-serving as I will allow it, but this book… this book helped me immediately after the change in my life felt like real change.

If you know anyone dealing with the loss of their pet, I recommend this book. It is truly near and dear to my heart now, and I could not have asked for anything better.

Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?

I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak about the most recent events with a previous place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination, growth from the transition after resigning from that company, and life’s foibles and overall experiences. I welcome your visit.