The Passing Time

It was that time 

Somewhere in the middle

Of blackest night 

And morning light

She sat quietly  



Mica unit







His chest 






Needles piercing his body 

Terror piercing her being 

Eventually it was time 

To gently removed the tubes 

Disconnect the monitor 

Call the Coroner 

She’d covered his cooling body 

With a thick burgundy blanket 

Lay beside him on the floor 

Held him 

One last time 

Whispered her loving goodbyes 

She stares at his empty wingback chair 

Honouring his dying time

They’d been together forty years 

And yet

The six years since his death  

Felt like a lifetime 

Tricia 14/07/2015



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 July 14, 2015, in Poems. Bookmark the permalink. 8 Comments.

  1. Your poetry always breaks my heart in the most beautiful way.

  2. Your best yet, Tricia. Beautiful. xx

  3. Heartbreaking and beautiful and such a loving tribute to that sacredly painful day as well. I adore your writing, and I am sending you so much love on this anniversary. Holding you in my heart always, lovely Tricia. xo Timaree

  4. My heart goes out to you darling Frish. I truly can’t
    Begin to understand your grief. Also, I have no words to express . I give you my love
    . You re latest entry is so gutwrenching and brings tears to my eyes. Thanks for sharing such a beautiful and insightful poem. I love you my precious sister. xxxx

  5. You do it to me every time, Tricia–you take my breath away. The memory of such a shocking and heartbreaking event doesn’t dull with time–certainly not in six years. Please accept this anniversary hug. You are very dear. ox

  6. This is stunning Tricia, so delicately brutal in its honest emotion and I keep reading it over and over. You have captured a deeply personal moment so vividly and shared it so beautifully with us. It was a deep privilege to read. Love you ❤️ Xxx

  7. I cannot breathe reading this. It is…. perfectly…. perfectly… perfect.
    And I wish it never had to be written.

  8. Remembering a time like the one you lived through here is not easy, Tricia. When, suddenly, on a day that is going really well I remember our son, and the remembering catches me by surprise, I too go back through the sequence of events. We probably should leave the past in the past, I sometimes think, but that is difficult, isn’t it? The poem itself is searing, as it should be. Grief is in the starkness of the events described with excruciating detail. How do you escape what is? How do you move beyond memories that burn through the facade of everyday days? I have no answers, but be well Tricia. Be well.

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