Something Different

I share the sorrowful moments because basically the purpose of this blog is to connect with those who grieve or struggle in some way, let them know they’re not alone. But sorrow and health issues are only a part of who I am. I’m lucky enough to have an aptitude for childlike joy, a susceptibility to silliness. The following is a glimpse into that area of my life. Also the new bed is ‘bloody marvellous’.

Guess Who Sleeps in My Bed?

I spoke to Big Ted about my new bed
“It’s paws up” he said then tilted his head
He smiled at me and I could tell
I was about to hear a Big Ted soft sell
“Don’t you think it would be fair
If the remote was shared with your favourite bear
We share the bed and lots of stuff
And bears get aches when times are tuff
It’s the massage button that appeals to me
I’d love to rumble and tumble ’till I go ‘squee’ ”
He twisted and turned as he made his request
His cuteness impression a personal best
I picked him up and held him tight
Said if he was good then I just might
Allow him his rumble tumble play
On special occasions not every day
He snuggled in and whispered to me
“I’ll be the best bear you ever did see”

Tricia 6/2013

About triciabertram

I have written all my life. Writing helps me to make sense of a world I often don’t understand. Poetry is my supreme solace, closely followed by literature and music. When my son ended his life in 1999 I embarked on the most difficult journey of my life, my grief journey. To survive in this unknown, harsh landscape I had to write. It was for me, the only way I could even begin to move forward. Then in 2009 my darling husband died suddenly and so my journey continues. I write about other issues but because of my life experience, grief and death are continuing themes in my writing life. In our culture I believe there is a fear of death, an inability to accept the inevitability of our mortality, and this creates enormous difficulties for the bereaved and those around them. I have begun this blog in the hope I will create a small ripple in the pond of fear that is currently drowning the reality of death and grief. I will continue to skim the stones of my truth, watch them bounce, and see how many ripples I can make.

Posted on June 29, 2013, in I am what I am, Poems and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 13 Comments.

  1. Tricia, this is absolutely fabulous. πŸ™‚

    A childlike joy and susceptibility to silliness is right up my street. I truly hope neither of us ever loses it. It complements felings of loss and sadness very well, helping to maintain equanimity I feel.

    Big hug for Big Ted – and for you of course! πŸ™‚

    And love too xxx

    PS so pleased the new bed is a positive πŸ™‚

    • I’m so pleased you liked it, Christine. I had such fun writing it. And yes, we need the balance in our lives. I’d be lost without my ‘little mate’.
      My room here has a double shower so my chair will fit. I was playing with, Big Ted, yesterday and took his photo on the chair in ‘his half of the shower’. I’m such a wackado sometimes.:)
      Love and hugs

  2. You’re democratic with the remote? How enlightened!

    • Joe, you did make me laugh. My husband was a bit of a ‘remote hog’, he was also a channel surfer.
      On our first trip to Hawaii, I was jet lagged and he was flicking his way through 100 channels. Our room was on the 5th floor, overlooking the pool. I told him if he didn’t stop flicking I’d throw the remote into the pool below. He replied “I don’t care” I responded with “You will, coz it’ll be up your bum at the time.” He stopped clicking.
      Naughty Tricia is going now….

  3. Such good news to hear that the bed has actually turned out to be a grand improvement for your rest, Tricia. You exhibit a great deal of resilience in all you share, and the childlike joy you referred to does indeed peek through from time to time! What a gift that is. And this poem is really so fun. I have a picture in my head of you and Ted grappling in a friendly contest for control of that remote! πŸ™‚

    • I must say, my body is missing the bed this week. Still I do have wonderful

    • I must say my body is missing the wonderful bed this week, but I do have the magnificent compensation of the sea, sunsets and so much more.
      I talk to Big Ted as if he were a person, play with him as if I were still a child, and truly love him. Rod’s cousin, Jan, who we’re very close to, made an interesting suggestion the other day. She asked if I’d thought of writing a book about, Big Ted, how he came into my life, the various journeys, both physical and emotional, we’ve shared all the stories, happy and sad. Sort of my story told part by me and part by Big Ted. I find the idea an appealing one. I’m so ready for a little more balance in my writing life, and Rod always wanted me to share my humour via my writing.
      Just ran the idea by Big Ted. He’s quite chuffed at being the star of a story. πŸ™‚
      Mrs Silly, is going now. xo

  4. Laughing out Loud


    Let us not ever take ourselves too seriously


  5. How wonderful. I’m so glad it has worked out so well for you (and your companion).

    Cu next week, as our journeys continue.


    • Nathan, it’s made such a difference to my physical wellbeing. My body is missing it this week, but I’m soaking up the sights of the sea, sunsets and morning skies, all in the company of my ‘companion’. πŸ™‚

      I emailed, Bob, the other day to tell him his fellow fading redhead would be attending and sent him a copy of my poem, Hands. He sent me a lovely response. I’m looking forward to next week. See you then.
      Her wot talks to teddy bears.

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