That’s my Mum, she existed, she laughed, there was a time she wasn’t dying or sad, when this wasn’t our reality, and when she could hug me and tell me everything’s going to be okay. The pain is just an indicator of how strong our bond was.
‘Gently, My Mother’ is a small poem I wrote on a sunny Friday which made me miss my own quite terribly.
I wondered if it would be okay, me living alone. Waking up, cooking, watching TV. I was afraid I would be like that man from Up.
You will become what you deserve, my friend.
I felt closer to him reading these than I have since he was killed—as he wrote in one of them, “Some words are worth a thousand pictures.”
Now is the season, the time of the year towards the end of January and the beginning of February, that I get catapulted from a time of bith celebrations, into the furnace of grief – to go back through the smithing process again, for refinement.
I am tired. I am drained. I am permanently in a fog. The uncertainty surrounding Covid, how much of it is truth and how much of it…… Read more “As Told By Sean”
I remember it was on 28th March 2019,I arrived at my home at 5.30pm after work. I sat to rest a while before starting my house chores.…… Read more “As Told By Bridget”
That is being human. Never run from your family, but strengthen your bond with them and get through everything together. Whatever your situation, your family is there for you.
“When someone you love dies ,it changes you forever .It is not something “you get over”. The loss now becomes a part of who you are “…… Read more “As Told By Deepika”