Monthly Archives: August 2014

Once More Unto The Maze

Punching, sobbing,
smiling for friends and family
until,
behind closed doors
the torment continued.
Sent away to boarding school
to protect my sister
and myself.
Only there a few days when
that woman
sent me to the bathroom.
Eventually she came,
closed the door
then took off
the thick black belt,
the one that held
the rosary beads…

We met at a dance,
one I’d not wanted to attend.
You were so gentle,
kind,
interesting.
Slowly trust grew.
You shared your stories,
encouraged me to share mine.
You told me
I didn’t have to be funny
all the time,
you loved my silence
as much as my joy.
One day you said
I love you…

The sea was so salty
I could float.
For the first time in my life
I was buoyant,
free,
taken by the sea
body and mind
drifting,
finally experiencing…

“I can’t find a heartbeat”,
the room became silent.
Two quick cuts,
forceps pull you from me,
nurses doing CPR
on your tiny body.
Tears stream silently
down your father’s cheeks
as I cry, “No, no, please no”
Then you cried…

Years later
your father weeps, I howl,
a wild thing caught
in a bone crunching trap.
I wrap your cold,
rigid body
in the lovingly made quilt;
carefully tucking the edges
into the sides of the casket.
We three shared so much
in your 26 years,
love, laughter,
and pain.
Yes there was a lot of pain,
but the love and laughter,
ah, they were grand.
Ten years after your death
I was tucking another quilt
around a precious body.
Broken, bereft,
my love, my family, my life…

I’ve lived alone for 5 years,
some days are good,
some not.
I savour the riches of memory,
live joyful gratitude
for the love I’ve known.
One day
as a carer showered me
I asked
“When will it be my turn to die?”
She wrapped me in a thick towel,
held me and said,
“It’s okay to cry, Tricia, it’s okay to cry.”
I’m so grateful for my kind,
gentle carers.
I miss my husband and son
every day,
and every day I wonder when…

I’ll continue wandering my life’s maze,
pathways strewn with sorrow and joy,
forever clasping unconditional love
my precious husband, my darling boy.

Tricia 8/2014

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

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.

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…

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