Grieving through Poetry...

Amazingly brave ? No.
There was never the slightest doubt that it was my duty towards her.
My duty and my wonderful privilege.
For every day of our 52 years together I would have given my life for her, so saying some words was no trial. I was her devoted husband; how could I not do it ?

She was emotionally and physically courageous in life, not by bearing up to the unavoidable, but in unhesitatingly standing up to real risks of harm to protect the ostracised and the weak.

The congregation applauded when I finished. I don’t know whether it was to show appreciation of her qualities that I had talked about, or if they too mistakenly perceived some suggestion of courage on my part. The former, I hope, but I am mightily comforted by the thought that she would have been proud of me.

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Hi Kate

Hi Kate.
When my Nan passed away last Christmas.
I wrote a song poem.
I remember when I was young. I used to run around and have so much fun. And the World was a million miles away from my shoulders.
I used to play football every single day and I played hid and seek until 7 or 8. And the World was still a million miles away from my shoulders. Then I took the World away from Atlas and kept it all to myself.
Picking up the pieces and put them
Back together again.
For I don’t know what can I do.
Picking up the pieces and put them back together again.
The end . I hope you like it.

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Hello Kate,
What a lovely idea! I too love poetry. I write when I am happy, sad or just moved by something. I also read the famous poets of course. I don’t think I am really coping that well although other people would probably disagree as I keep busy, too busy so I don’t think. I can’t bear to think of the things that have happened but I try to help other people as this helps me too. So I am enclosing two poems, one, ‘Waiting for You’ written when my dad died, the other ‘The Mountains, Ile Rousse’ for my husband, Alan, who painted at home and on holiday in Corsica. I loved the mountains and he painted them for me. I have lost him but still have his painting. I hope someone enjoys my poems. Regards and love to everyone. Pattoa.

Waiting for You
Everything beautiful reminds me of you.
When the sun rises it rises from you.
I feel your love in every day
And every way.
Down the years and weeks and days
It warms me in a hundred different ways.
Not time, not even death
Can separate us
For we are one.
The broken half of me craves for you,
Waits for you,
Longs for reunion,
Once more to feel your hand in mine
Far away
On the other side of time.
February 2003.

The Mountains, Ile Rousse.
The turquoise sea,
Purple granite mountains
My mountains
Yet they never will be belong to me.

For a little time they will be mine.
He painted them for me.
White sand, soft white flour,
A mirror blue sea.
Everlasting images on canvas.
He painted them for me.

The rugged mountains stretch into the sea.
Children of earth,
They never will belong to me.
Yet in my mind they register
Retina implanted
Until my final moments
When I must say goodbye
And give them back
So others can take over
Making their own imprint
As the months turn into years.

Our lives are finite
But the mountains never die.
July 2017.

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Beautiful Pattoa. Thank you for sharing.
Like you I keep busy, it’s the only way for me. However, I do take a moment to sit and think, to read and write. I love the written word whether it’s poetry or prose. It helps.
With love xx

What a wonderful thing to do for your nan and thanks for sharing. She must have been a very special lady. Sending love xx

The following is from The Smoke Jumper by Nicholas Evans and it’s a favourite of mine:

If I be the first of us to die,
Let grief not blacken long your sky.
Be bold yet modest in your grieving.
There is a change but not a leaving.
For just as death is part of life,
The dead live on forever in the living.
And all the gathered riches of our journey,
The moments shared, the mysteries explored,
The steady layering of intimacy stored,
The things that made us laugh or weep or sing,
The joy of sunlit snow or first unfurling of the spring,
The wordless language of look and touch,
The knowing,
Each giving and each taking,
These are not flowers that fade,
Nor trees that fall and crumble,
Nor are they stone,
For even stone cannot the wind and rain withstand
And mighty mountain peaks in time reduce to sand.
What we were, we are.
What we had, we have.
A conjoined past imperishably present.
So when you walk the wood where once we walked together
And scan in vain the dappled bank beside you for my shadow,
Or pause where we always did upon the hill to gaze across the land,
And spotting something, reach by habit for my hand,
And finding none, feel sorrow start to steal upon you,
Be still.
Close your eyes.
Breathe.
Listen for my footfall in your heart.
I am not gone but merely walk within you.

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Beautiful, so true, so everything…thank you Kate.x

That is just so perfect. I feel it could almost be how my wife would comfort me now. It leaves nothing out and it’s just moved me to tears. I feel a bit fragile as I’ve been spending a large chunk of the day with family at my aunts funeral.

I read it again and again. I’ve bought the novel, the Smoke Jumper but haven’t read it yet.

It sounds like you might have had a pretty tough day YorkshireLad. But you did it, you got through it.

Xx

I’ve just been on Amazon and bought the Smoke Jumper. It was only when I looked that I realised he wrote the Horse Whisperer. That was a lovely book and a good film.

I bought the book on the strength of that poem YorkshireLad. Xx

I read a beautiful poem written by Vivian Greene about the last moments of her loved one’s life. I have taken her idea and written my own poem about my personal experience. I hope you don’t mind me sharing it with you. Perhaps it’s something some of you might like to do too:

Hushed

I hear his hushed breathing
As I watch the monitors of the machines keeping him alive
I whisper my love in his ear
Begging him
Willing him to live
I clutch his warm swollen fingers
Is this the last day I shall feel my skin on his
His hand in mine
In the hospital bed surrounded by pain and waiting
Maybe the whispers of this night
Will turn to whispers of angels
I feel so meek
As I sit helpless
He will go, ascend
I know in truth
He cannot come back from this
He has no fear
He is aware of nothing
He is not there
As the machines are silenced
He is going
He gasps his last breath
He is gone
I feel sick
I wretch
As an agonising scream sticks in my throat
Threatening to choke me
A searing pain pressured my chest
As though my ribs are broken
By the ache of my love
As the rarest soul I ever knew hushed

I feel your heartbreak Kate. Thank you for sharing this poem written straight from the heart. I and I’m sure others will relate to your words. Annette. Xxx

Hi Kate, it’s as if your poem was written for us two. I sat at my husband’s hospital bedside in October 2017, waiting for what I feared more than anything else in my life; hardly daring to breathe or move myself. It was around six the following morning that he slipped away - signed off his final night shift. Thank you for sharing, kind regards with a hug!

I like your poem Kate. It’s very powerful and yet it has real sensitivity.
You made me think about whether I could put how I felt into words and this is my attempt. I found it to be a cathartic experience and shed many tears while confronting the memory.

I think I’ve known since early morn
That this will be the day.
I don’t know how I knew it now.
A ‘message’ came my way.

I hold her hand, that golden band
Tied us close together.
That we must part will break my heart
And finish our forever.

She fights for breath, and then it’s death
That has the final say.
The end has come. I feel so numb
This is the dreaded day.

I feel bereft. It’s like a theft.
Why did she have to go.
I feel such pain and cry again.
I’ve never felt so low.

The two of us are now just one.
I’ve got to try and soldier on
Without her smile.
As that’s now gone.

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Well that is real heartfelt poetry YorkshireLad. I think you’re absolutely spot on - writing poetry can be a very cathartic experience and I’m glad that you found it to be so. Thank you so much for sharing your poem. Xx

Thank you Rainbow and sending a hug right back to you xx

Hi everyone. I felt the need to resurrect this thread. There’s a couple of song lyrics I’d like to share with you. Songs are after all musical poetry:

If I Could Be Where You Are
By Enya

Where are you this moment?
Only in my dreams.
You’re missing, but you’re always
A heartbeat from me.
I’m lost now without you,
I don’t know where you are.
I keep watching, I keep hoping,
But time keeps us apart.
Is there a way I can find you,
Is there a sign I should know,
Is there a road I could follow
To bring you back home?
Winter lies before me
Now you’re so far away.
In the darkness of my dreaming
The light of you will stay.
If I could be close beside you
If I could be where you are
If I could reach out and touch you
And bring you back home
Is there a way I can find you
Is there a sign I should know
Is there a road I can follow

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To Where You Are
By Josh Groban

Who can say for certain
Maybe you’re still here
I feel you all around me
Your memories so clear
Deep in the stillness
I can hear you speak
You’re still an inspiration
Can it be
That you are mine
Forever love
And you are watching over me from up above
Fly me up to where you are
Beyond the distant star
I wish upon tonight
To see you smile
If only for awhile to know you’re there
A breath away’s not far
To where you are
Are you gently sleeping
Here inside my dream
And isn’t faith believing
All power can’t be seen
As my heart holds you
Just one beat away
I cherish all you gave me everyday
'Cause you are mine
Forever love
Watching me from up above
And I believe
That angels breathe
And that love will live on and never leave
Fly me up
To where you are
Beyond the distant star
I wish upon tonight
To see you smile
If only for awhile
To know you’re there
A breath away’s not far
To where you are
I know you’re there
A breath away’s not far
To where you are