Tag Archives: nephew


I don’t have to be here

I don't have to be here

met friends across the road
trendy new place
tapas bar
but distracted coz all I could see
was the blue roof of your hospital
made quick goodbyes
stepped inside
caught a lift to the 8th floor
looking at the menu at the hospital coffee shop
the things I used to buy you
when you just didn’t feel like hospital food
I didn’t have to be here
but this hospital still remains
the one place I really can feel you in
I miss you and I just want to be close to you
is it weird I’m here
sipping coffee
and feeling closer to you
in this hospital
which you knew so well in your life
not the one you were born in
but the one you died in

I’ll love you forever



I drove in the hearse, one hand on my nephew’s coffin. all wrapped up in hessian , masking tape slashed  across the top and bottom, black capitals His Name with it’s missing T. he hated the missing t, even that made him different.

J, Driver of hearse and picker upper of me and my nephew from the airport to take his body home,. a grey hearse. two suitcases, one His, I had packed a few days before, one mine, nudged next to the coffin that held Him

finally on the open road. looking for signs , they’re everywhere.

a rainbow, rays breaking through clouds .

driver says he had met my nephew once, they’re similar ages. 23.  he’d wanted to do the funeral , coz he’d liked Him..

once you’ve seen someone dress a dead person you’ll always know how to do it. he tells me. shower, wash their hair . ‘we like to keep the bodies natural looking so we don’t do make up’ he says. I stare out the window. We’re getting closer to home. I ask if he has any music .

only a cd with one song he says: it’s time to say goodbye. He loved music, my nephew, I ask j to rather turn on the radio. david bowies heroes starts playing. we put the sound high up, “we can be heroes for just one day” blaring from the grey hearse, my hand on my nephew’s casket, and as we drive into our old hometown, the rain starts falling hard. I still haven’t cried.

in my mind He is five years old and He’s holding my hand, dimple smile and ruby red lips, he’s looking up at me with cheeky eyes, and I’m smiling back at him.

It’s just that this time

I am never going to let go of that hand….

RIP my hero, my nephew xxx

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

‘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