Tag Archives: life

Same but different

Yes I get up every morning

Yes I do get dressed,

set good intentions

Get into my car

Sob all the way to work

Yes I do go to work

And smile

And create, and chat, and work overtime

Yes I see my friends

We chat and talk laugh and tease

But it’s different

In a way I can’t explain

The physical ache of you not here

Is a constant reminder of what is gone

That something is missing

A dream

I’m at your graveside

Manically digging to get to your casket

To open it, to see you once more , to hold you

No one knows

Lest they’d think I’m mad

But breathing since you’ve died

Is one if the hardest things to do

In and out

Yes I’m dressing

I’m going to work

But it’s just not the same


it comes in spurts, starts and finishes

it doesnt get easier but harder

yesterday i lost my phone with your voice message on it that i’d listened to again and again

last night was the first night i went to bed without your voice

it felt so scarily real

that you were gone

even the smell on your clothes that reminded me so much of you is beginning to fade

i want to hold on

i want to hold on

please don’t be gone, please tell me it’s a dream

please come back

tell me this is not real


(on grief and grieving – 41 days)

I see you


it will not come

this scream

contorted in my throat


unable to find its way


inside the rage

a feeling of impotence

i can do nothing

i scream out

blood curdling

inside i hear it

so loudly

but nothing ventures forth

here under the fluorescent light

and the beep beep beep

of the icu machine…

i hold your hand and smile at you

flashes of memory

slam my forehead

and hit my heart

visions of you

aged born, 6, 8, 12, 16,

now 21

you cannot die

do you hear me

you cannot die

but the words strangle my throat

like three hands they  squeeze so hard

leaving a space too small to allow them

to pop out

so i smile serenely again

as you lie hooked up

to  monitors

the vein on your now-battered right hand

allowing a drip with liquid to reach your

dehydrated scarred body

i hold your hand

and smile

evrything’s going to be okay

my eyes say

but inside like razor blades cutting my oesophogus

i see the monitor

and it says something else

you cannot die

you cannot die

you cannot die

i see you look at me

eyes wide

and the only words that come out

are ones you’ve heard before

i love you

i’m not going anywhere

we’re going to get through this

and i see your eyes get softer

and i hold your hand tighter

we’re going to get through this…….

* For Matthew my nephew. Please keep him in your prayers as he waits for a life-saving heart transplant

sometimes, i can’t believe i made it here

As i lay in my bath this morning, a silver painted angel looking down on me, moroccan fig scent lingering above, i had a profound moment in which i it just hit me … i had gone beyond surviving in life and was now living it.

I am not sure when the shift happened, maybe it was in this minute that i realised it. 8 years ago, well…it was a very different life for me then.

today, as i lay in my tub i looked at a face cloth above me, given to me by a dear friend i had met while here, a pink buffer my mom had given me before i left my old home town, a small toothpaste a man i love in this time had given me.

Everything was telling such a loud story of how the healing happens even without you knowing.

i looked at the white blinds in my bathroom and remembered when i had saved enough money to buy them, and i looked at my little beautiful home, i had taken so for granted over the years, and realised just truly big it was to have this roof over my head, to have created a home.

along the way there have been so many interesting finds, unusual characters, fun-loving crazy times, but most of all there has been a sense of myself, more and more as the one year turned to 2 years turned to 8 years in my new life ‘post the pain’.

i came here to run away from my pain, but instead i came face to face with it. hissing and roaring and gnarling. It came up just when i thought i had run far enough from it.

And in facing the pain, the anger..you know all those traits we have that we like to think we don’t have, it appears, quite by chance, i have been able to create this lovely new life. the only thing i had to go on i the “dark days” was a slight hint that things would get better, that my life would be beautiful again.

everywhere i look today is a story of love and life. the box of love from friends next to my bed, a sun catcher in my bedroom, a wooden heart on a piece of string, crystals, the landline, my duvet cover, the art deco cabinet given to me by a friend. there are so many stories everywhere, and even if i am alone in this beautiful home. i am not really. everyone who has touched my life resides right here with me.

we never really discard anything along the way, in some shape or form they stay with us. I love my new life. And am so deeply humbled and in gratitude that i made it here .

fully alive.

thank you, thank you, thank you

channeling sweet fragrant bliss

A Room Full of Jasmin,
intoxicated by love,
i lie here in bliss,
for what is
and what is still to come,
the scent lulling me to sleep…..
(my toes peeking out as i lie on my crumpled bed sheets. )
(pic copyrighted to and taken by my dearest friend and highly talented photopgrapher campbell mitchell, whose work can also be seen on flickr)

um, so i guess that’s goodbye then….

he came like a thief in the night.

or at least that’s my story.

i didn’t expect him at all. this man who stole my heart.

if i had known he would come, i would most certainly have put extra bolts and walls up. but i wasn’t expecting him. he scaled the balcony, this fortress I had built, and snuck in through a side door of my quiet life. he found me half asleep, unused to visitors and yet, somewhere – deep inside – half expecting him.

he coaxed me with beautiful words, and moonlight songs strummed on his big bold guitar. he filled my home with paintings and my fridge with things i had deprived myself of for so long. With him, the ice slowly started to melt around me, at first half cracking around the permanent smile planted on my face.

and then as quickly as he had scaled the wall of my heart, he walked out of my front door and drove off in a real car … right out of my life. the irony is, is that i had asked him to go, not because i had wanted him to, but because i had needed him to.

And now as I sit, in my white cool room, no remnants of him to be found, save for two paintings lying in my lounge, I wonder if I had dreamt it all, or if love had perhaps visited me for a time.

        two unfinished paintings stacked upon each other in my lounge, one’s colour inverted on my computer

‘the pain is not here to hurt you, but to teach you’

It’s pitch black outside, i have had my first cup of coffee which i promised myself i wouldn’t have and am getting dressed. You know how some people have profound affects on your life. well i am getting dressed for one such person.

my nephew matthew. 20 years old. he is off to hospital for a biopsy on his heart to see if it is strong enough for an op he needs. he had a heart transplant when he was 8. matthew is one of those people born with the gift of seeing. he sees other people’s pain, very rarely his own. after his heart transplant, as he lay cut all the way down his chest, i asked him how he was doing. ‘i just want them to find a heart for my brother,’ is all he said. his older brother also needed a heart transplant.. His brother three months later had his heart transplant.

a few years later when i myself was walking a very dark and lonely path, at age 11,he got his older friend to drive to my home so that he could sit with me and let me know i was not alone. Such compassion and such depth, so young.

so many hours, so many days, spent in ICU, he has only ever once shown that he carries any pain, and in that moment, as he broke down, i realised just how brave he is and how strong he had been.

there is so much i can say about math, about the lessons he has taught me, but right now i have to get to the hospital to be with him. i know i am blessed to walk this path with him.

If you’re reading this, can you send him some of the love and the miracle he needs today. thank you xxx

and to all the organ donors out there, from my family to you, thank you.

it is truly the gift of life, precious, beautiful, achy, happy life