Tenacity...

from

Tenacity (1971):

I sit for hours at the window
Preparing a letter; you are coming toward me,
We are balanced like dancers in memory,
I feel your coat, I smell your clothes,
Your tobacco, you almost touch me.

by Ruth Stone

Ruth Stone died last month, at the age of 96. Many of her poems convey a haunting feeling of loss and bittersweetness; they are“love poems, all written to a dead man”; written after her husband ended his life, leaving her to bring up three daughters on her own...

Pretending....

this photo was taken by Iona

Pretending ...

Sometimes

I feel that if I

Can just keep on

Moving

I'll forget

For a little while

Or pretend that

It didn't

Happen.

I'll pretend that you're still here,

Washing dishes and

Making me marmite toast

And chamomile tea...

But I know I can't really

Fool anyone

- Especially not me.

But sometimes

It's nice to

Pretend....

Denial / disbelief is a common theme in the grieving process - even months after the bereavement we can still be struck by a feeling of disbelief  - it's so hard to believe that this has happened - that our loved one has really gone. Eventually, we reach some sort of acceptance  and we gradually adapt to life without that person ...

thicker than water?

'Old as she was, she still missed her daddy sometimes'  
~ Gloria Naylor

xmas 1971 -  me, dad, and my sister...

You knocked on the door

Looking old and dishevelled and
Heavy.
You needed a shave and
Haircut.
You said you missed us.
But you didn't say
'Sorry'.
Maybe you never will.
You walked away with
Shoulders stooped.
I felt sad and
Heavy.
'I miss you too'
I whispered
As you faded out of
View...

(Oct 2010)
~~~~

I had to include a pic with my mum too! 1971. <3

Fade Out ...

That night,

You ripped out my

Heart

And turned my world

Upside down

For one last time.


I cried tears of acid rain

And screamed silently

Into the darkest of nights

And through endless days;

Wondering how the hell was I supposed to

Get through

This

Without you?


...When your heart stopped,

Part of mine died too...

----------------------------------


For me, writing is a very therapeutic process. First, I write down whatever comes out of my mind, heart, and/or soul - whether it's random words, jumbled sentences, or a stream of consciousness or inner dialogue - I just let it all come out, then I read through it and sometimes it becomes some sort of poem; sometimes not. Sometimes, it already is a poem. Usually, it starts off as quite a long poem, as it's important to be able to tell the whole story ... but then it often requires cutting down quite a bit, so as to get to the point, rather than ramble on too much...

Writing helps make sense of something that doesn't make sense...

I wish ...

I Wish...

I wish I could hear

the sound of your

voice

One more time.

And maybe see you

Smile ...

 
... I wished on some shooting stars tonight, but in life we have to accept that some wishes just aren't going to be granted, no matter how much we want them to come true ... Instead, we have to learn to let go ...
 
I'm in the process of wading through old blogs on myspace, trying to save various bits and pieces from over the years. It's quite an emotional journey - some of the stuff i  was writing back then, like the poem above, were related to the grieving process i was going through after my mum died. ...
 
Fast forward just a few years, and here i am, in the midst of another loss. It might be a cliche, but everything happens for a reason. I now know that all the pain i went through regarding my mum's death was necessary, so that i would be in some way equipped to deal with the loss of my ex-husband, soul mate & best friend, and so that i would somehow be able to support our daughter through this.
 
Next week, it will be 6 months since he died. Earlier tonight, as my daughter and i sat together,talking and crying and hugging each other, i was so, so proud of my beautiful daughter, and her words of wisdom - her strength and maturity - took my breath away.  Her dad will be so proud of her - i just wish he was here to tell her... but she already knows how proud he'll be...
 
Later, we went out for a walk, and sat watching shooting stars together, and made our wishes.
'Will our wishes come true?' she said...
I smiled and told her the story I've told her countless times before ... 
'Yes, they do come true - me and your dad wished on a shooting star the night you were conceived, so our wish came true!'
 'That's the most beautiful story ever!' she said ...
I smiled to myself and remembered the time her dad spoke to a 'fortune teller' who told him that 'you have a daughter who will be like a star that outshines all others'... that story was certainly true as well...
 
We got back home again just before the rain began - our tears replaced by star-shaped glimmers of hope ...