Love and Laphroaig

Love and Laphroaig

For the first time since his death
four and a half years ago,
she eased the cork
from the half full bottle of
Memories of peaty kisses
overwhelmed her.
The soft, smokey touch
of his lips on hers
took her back in time.

Barbecues in Brisbane, his dearest friend, Matt,
bagpipes celebrating the birth
of a precious baby girl
who crept into her heart
bringing her brother and sister with her.
The soulful christening composition,
Uncle Bill’s gift to the wee bairn,
played plaintively on the bagpipes.
For her, there was always a touch of sorrow,
a mournful cry, an ache in the midst of joy,
in the tale only the pipes could tell.

Scotland and Ireland entwined
for the St Paddy’s Day Celebrations
that warmed her non-theist heart.
Proudly watching
her precious leprechauns and dancers
leading their clan in the parade.
The closest she’ll ever come to grandchildren.
She couldn’t love them more
if they carried her blood in their young veins.

She poured a little of the single malt
into a crystal glass
took a sip
held the golden liquid in her mouth for a moment
then allowed it to wend its warm way
down her throat.
It had lost nothing
of home and the highlands
during its four plus years in the bottle.

As she sipped
she savoured her memories.
forty years of love,
their darling son,
shared suffering,
joy filled celebrations,
special friendships,
precious children,
his attempts to cure toothache
with the warm golden liquor.
With each sip she remembered
and experienced a sense of gratitude
for the gift of her loved and loving life.

Tricia 1/2014

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 January 4, 2014, in Poems. Bookmark the permalink. 13 Comments.

  1. Wonderful piece. All the best in the new year.

  2. “a touch of sorrow” “an ache in the midst of joy” … you are a true poet, my friend.

  3. three little glimpses all intertwined. Lovely!

    • Thank you, Peter. Memories of a special time in our lives. It’s amazing how our sense of smell can transport us to another time and place. For me Single Malt will always come with the echo of bagpipes and love.

  4. Oh Tricia, this is so beautiful – it’s amazing how you can be transported back in time by a smell or a taste. I find smell the most powerful sense of all.

    This is a precious glimpse into your many happy memories. It must have been a real joy to live and to write x

    • Pooky, I just replied to Peter using words so very similar to yours. Great minds and all that. 🙂

      Brisbane, BBQs, bagpies, quality single malt, precious children, love. So much overwhelmed me when I took the cork out of the bottle. I’m so pleased I was able to find words to express some of what I experienced. It’s wonderful when precious memories are triggered. xx

  5. What a lovely way to remember tricia, best wishes to you.

  6. CC Champagne

    This is… Just amazing! Wonderful, wonderful piece! So well written and so soulful! Love it!

  1. Pingback: Poetry Prompt 7 – An Antidote to Nightmares | Pooky's Poems

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