Tag Archives: sadness

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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

this too shall pass

tears streaming down, nightmares consume the dark hours. I’m running, trying to find Matthew , opening and closing doors, can’t find him. I wake up.

look at his fb page. read his messages. play his last voice message on watsapp to me. He’s laughing, teasing me.

I open my balcony doors, let the cold evening air hit me. breathe it in.

breathing is laboured. like walking through knee deep mud.

I want to scream, hit a wall, swear at the gods that did this. that have rendered me weak and powerless and who have broken my heart. who deemed their plan greater than mine. oh how I hate them in this moment. how could they violate me, violate my family. and get away with it. who can I fight with, which court can I take them to, who will see the trauma their actions have caused.

but I’m voiceless . disempowered .

there are no gods. i tell myself. matt made a choice. respect it. stop being selfish. let it go.

there’s a star in the dark sky. Im looking at it like I used to when I was a child. we used to say it’s my sister now long dead. but as i stand here, I know better now.

what I see is just a star. and people come and people go. and this pain too shall pass.

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)

On Grief

grief is a vicious animal
attacks unexpectantly ,with sharp fangs and skin-tearing claws
constantly alert, he comes at any time
3am , 4, 10pm, midday
surprise is his game
he leaves his victim maimed, not doing the honourable thing
leaving her gasping as blood drenched breaths try escape suffocating lungs snd a heart so squished up, it’s rhythms have lost any sense of a beat
grief has no redeeming features
it cares little for the life you once had
or the life you hoped to live
it does not even look you in the eye when it attacks
and yet after ravaging you
finally makes eye contact
and you know you are in hell
in a prison you can’t escape
with grief the gatekeeper

for now

Goodbye

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

silent white scream

men in white suits, waiting for me,

grunting loudly

in echoes on white walls.

a suited woman,  closeby,

with glasses,

hiding any hope of escape

in her pockets,

and all along

I want to shout out,

‘I’m not mad, I’m not mad,’

but the words won’t find creation in sound,

they’re stuck in my mind, caged by drugs

prescribed by them,

forced down by them.

Row upon row of monsters,

in white suits,

they’re coming to get me,

and shut me down,

and they can’t hear me shouting

‘I’m not mad, I’m not mad,’

only silence escapes my mouth as

a burning tear

sears my muted face.

‘i’m not mad’

But they don’t hear me

.

.

.

 

 

the Monster

and so,

she put all her pain and suffering

into one drawer

the drawer of pain

The photo of her

dead daughter

a crucifix that had fallen off

a rosary

given to her by the priest,

a letter from her sister

some unpaid bills

and she closed the drawer

and then she locked it.

but one night as she lay sleeping in her bed

(the drawer just a few steps  away)

all the pain locked up inside

gathered together

eyes, a nose, a mouth,

bones and flesh

it formed

and grew and grew

in the drawer

and, as she lay dreaming,

a vicious banging from inside

startled her awake….

the monster within banged and banged and banged

“let me out, let me out”, it screamed

She lay

petrified

beneath her covers

yes, frightened stiff.

‘if I’m really quiet and really still

he won’t even know I’m here.’

But the banging persisted and became louder and louder.

‘Okay then’ she said out aloud.

‘I’ll show you what a scream sounds like’

And so she started screaming, so loud that even

the most crazy person would have labelled her unwell

but after a while

she became too sore to carry on

and

so

she stopped

but still she could hear the monster

in the drawer…

‘The gun, where is my gun’

‘I will just shoot it,’ she decided…

but a she reached for her gun,

she made a strange realisation

that

the sound of the monster’s cries

seemed to have shifted

and were coming from within herself…

she would have had to kill herself to kill the monster…

in that absurd realisation

She finally surrendered.

And got out of bed.

She shuffled to the drawer

unlocked it

expecting the worst.

but inside,

it was just as she had left it-

a photo,

a crucifix,

a letter,

and some unpaid bills.

so she took out the image

of her daughter

now long gone

and she stroked it,

and as her first tear fell

on the

photo’s frame

the monster’s cries

that had kept her up for so long…..

finally abated.

xxxx