Sometimes Only Telling Will Do

Why must we idle among euphemisms?
My husband and son
Didn’t pass
They died
I didn’t carelessly
Lose them
They died
From the moment of birth
Death
Is inevitable
I have a chronic illness
Slowly stealing my independence
Eventually it will kill me
We’re all going to die

Choosing words that obfuscate
Pretty words to alliterate
Will in no way obliterate
The reality of death
It hurts like hell
To be the last one standing
In my precious family of three
It would hurt a little less
If I could freely confess
They are dead – I ache – can’t you see

It will never go away
I will miss them every day
Yet when I speak of it some say
“Cheer up it’ll be okay”
And then they stay away…
It feels like a punishment to me
For speaking of my leafless family tree
All I want is to speak my truth
These words are not meant as abuse
They are my sincere heartfelt plea
They are dead – I ache – please sit with me

Won’t you sit with me in my sorrow
As you happily sit with me in joy
I’m not always sad and miserable
But
Sometimes I want to speak about my boy
Share again the story
Of the day he took his life
“We’ll talk again tomorrow”
My final words a jagged knife
How my fear and heartache grew
With each unanswered call
The pounding on his door
The words that made me fall
Knowing I couldn’t save my son
The deepest cut of all
It’s fifteen years since my boy’s death
I will be forever bereft

Ten years later my husband collapsed
Died his head resting on my breast
Life and death had worn him out
His heart ceased pumping in his chest
He gently squeezed my hand
As he took his final breath
I didn’t lose him I was holding him
He died – I was witness to his death
A loving gentle caring man
He’d shared more than half my life
I’ll never tick the ‘widow box’
Because I will forever be his wife
Death will never define me
And yes it sometimes causes strife
He’d be proud and amused
By this determination of mine
He’d also understand and agree
Passed and lost can never define
The reality and finality
Of living life with grief
Death is a forever thing
It’s life that’s far too brief

My rhythm and rhyme are all over the place
This poem mirrors life
And death does not fit any mould
No perfect syntax can describe
Why I’m not one for passed and lost
For me it’s dead and died

Tricia 8/2014

Dying Alone

She keeps telling herself
“This is not about you”
Herself answers
“Then why oh why does it feel like it is”
She’s drawn back to the cold dark car park
Hears again the words “I’m sorry to tell you
There is the body of a young man In the flat”
She can still hear the compassion
In the voice of the young policeman
Feel the arms of her now dead husband
As they folded into each other
Bereft
They’d lived in fear of this day for years
Their precious son
Who’d first spoken of his wish to die
At age 11
Was dead
He was 26 years old

Then she read the words
Of a fox newsreader in the US
Calling Robin Williams
A coward…
His ignorance left her speechless
All she could do was
Scream
In her empty room
Empty home
She thought of the family
She’d never know
How that word would slice and burn
When they were already
Broken by bereavement

In 10 days
It will be 15 years since her only child
Ended his life
Tears bleed down her cheeks
Tears for her son
Tears for her husband
Tears for herself
Tears for a family she’ll never meet
She knows Robin’s death
Is not her loss to mourn
And yet on some level
It’s everyone’s sorrow
When a fellow human is so ill
Ending their life
Is their only option
For her
The saddest thing of all
Is the dying alone

Tricia 13/08/2014

Twinkly Lights

triciabertram:

I’ve decided to reblog this poem because it was inspired by cisforcrocodile.wordpress.com/ i’m getting a lot of visitors today as a result of this wonderful blog and I want to share just an inkling of what this blog, Timaree, Jodi and precious Caemon, bring to my life.

Originally posted on Writing the roads of grief:

Twinkly  Lights 

 
My discontent with the dark
Had returned
No bed for me
I can’t hold back the night
But I can refuse to sleep
In the too big
Empty softness
Place of our last laugh
Final silly cuddly conversation
 
I shut the drapes before
The coming of the ‘twinkly lights’
There shall be no night
Instead lamp light
Shining
On the dull days of 
My confused heart
Missing my husband my son my life
 
The pendulum of grief
Swings 
Back to previous pain
I don’t understand why
Exhausted reliving mourning’s mystery 
No energy left to try
To make sense of unwanted night
 
Endless gritty eyed days
Staggering
On swelling legs
Alcohol or lack of elevation
Who knows
Who cares
 
Resting in my chair
Holding my special bear
My iPad pings a message
The musical link broke me open
Jack Johnson – All At…

View original 114 more words

Searching for Surrender

How does one know
When to keep fighting
When to accept
How to discern the difference between
What’s truly life limiting
And the need to keep pushing
How to keep going
In the face of indescribable exhaustion
Wanting understanding from loved ones
Yet still striving for personal clarity
Life is the question
Ultimately death will be the answer
Meanwhile struggling to learn how
To surrender to the now

Tricia 7/2014

Goodbye

triciabertram:

This is a stunning poem on grief from Gabrielle Bryden’s Blog.

Originally posted on Gabrielle Bryden's Blog:

Goodbye

and then you were gone,

the moon twisted to unseen and dead beat stars gave up,
the earth cracked open and the doors to heaven slammed shut,
the wolf lost all hunger and sprawled in the darkness, surrendering
to nothingness, a great emptiness inside, spreading from stomach to heart
to fingertips, strangely light, outstretched, reaching for one last touch, before the tears
wash away the past, for the weeping now, of sobs convulsing and shoulders trembling,
seized with the fractured space, that is the world without you,

goodbye,
_________________________________

View original

Limited Vision

He wrote about how the thought of
Being a burden
Pained
She wanted to reach out and hold him
As her energy diminishes
She knows the constancy of those thoughts
To be a burden to those she loves
Intolerable
Indiscernible fear of asking too much
Clarity of overwhelming gratitude
For all the loving help she’s been given
All she knows with certainty
Love must be preserved

Tricia 7/2014
(Thanks for the inspiration, Peter)

The Last Day

Tomorrow’s the day
For quietly honouring your dying
Today I’m cocooned
In the last day of your living
Oh it was a good day
A day of shared laughter – loving – nurturing
Five years ago and yet
It still plays perfectly
In the movie theatre of my mind
You were unwell
Had a doctor’s appointment for the following day
Nonetheless you were witty and playful
Me working in the study
You working in the bedroom
Less than a dozen steps apart
You’d not have needed to raise your voice
And yet you Skyped me
Held Big Ted in front of the screen
“We’re poorly and we’re thirsty”
Then that cheeky grin
The breath leaves my body as I remember
How your eyes sparkled
We had a cuppa
Watched an episode of Poirot
Then you had a sleep
I was concerned because
You who loved your food
Had eaten very little over the last few weeks
I asked if there was anything you fancied
I finally tempted you with a little grilled King George whiting
A couple of boiled chat potatoes
There was broccoli too but you said
“It’s mean to make a sick person eat vegetables”
You didn’t want wine so we had San Pellegrino water
In crystal wine glasses
You gave me a hug
Told me how much you’d enjoyed your dinner
Then wandered back to bed
I sat and read for a couple of hours
Before going to bed
I climbed in
Gave you a kiss and a cuddle
Then realised the overhead light was still on
Neither of us wanted to get up
Your suggestion cracked me up
“I could chuck Big Ted at the light switch
Maybe he can turn it off on his way past”
I ruffled your hair and said
“You’re a funny little fucker aren’t you”
I stumbled out of bed
Turned the light out
Crawled back in
Still laughing so much the bed was shaking
I fell asleep chuckling
The next thing I remember…
No
That’s tomorrow’s story
Today is for honouring
Our lovely last day

Tricia 13/7/2014

► 2:23► 2:23
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3Kvu6Kgp88

Games I Play

Among the pleasures
Of living alone
Freedom to be me
In my sanctuary home
One can vent
To their hearts content
No feathers to unruffle
When the venting’s spent
If I get very cross
Do you know what I do
Throw empty plastic bottles
At the glass door – yes it’s true
I always keep a few
On the table by my chair
Ready for chucking when something pokes
My sleeping inner bear
I’ve this special grabber thingy
‘Coz my bending days are done
It enables me to pick things up
When I’ve had my venting fun
It’s empowering for me
As my body slowly wears out
To know I can still cut it
In the game of chuck and shout
Sometimes I’m amused
By the childlike thinks I do
Did I tell you I play basketball
With the rubbish bin – yes it’s true
I miss more than I sink
Tissues and papers litter the floor
But oh what fun it is
When I get to yell “She scores”
My wonderful grabber thingy
Helps me tidy up the mess
But some shapes are tricky
I can get frustrated I confess
That’s when I circle back to venting
I’m well versed in naughty words
Let’s pretend I just exclaim
“You annoying little turds”
Some might call it temper
I call it healthy release
If you’re bothered I know a few members
Of The Australian Venting Police

Tricia 6/2014

Simple Pleasure

To dance naked on a summer’s night
Splashing in the sea
My hearts delight
No one taught me this depth of pleasure
‘Tis an instinct
I’ll always treasure
To feel the sea’s soft caress
naked legs
Stomach and breast
I’ve shared this halcyon joy and lust
My love my life
The man I trust
Oh my hearts precious delight
Sharing nights ocean
Loves darkness light
Years have passed since thus I’ve played
But sweetest memories
Have forever stayed

Tricia 6/2014

In response to

http://pookypoetry.wordpress.com/2014/06/01/poetry-prompt-32-simple-pleasures/

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