Categories
Poetry

She Would

If she could hold the world with all her heart.

If she could soften the growls of the wildest of them,

she would.

Oh, she would.

Oh, she would.

Categories
Life

Goodbye

No one would have seen it coming, least of all me. His death was inevitable: that part we all knew was coming.

But no one would have foreseen my reaction to it. Not the way it happened, not the way the emotional slideshow of me slowly played out like a blocked garden-hose building in pressure, waiting for the almighty explosion that eventually would come.

My Dad told me: ‘Aaron’s died.’ We were on our way home from our shared workplace, an hour and ten minute drive from the city to the country, where we lived. He did a good job, my Dad. Quiet. Calm. Matter of fact, but caring. My Aunty was the one that received the news. He’d been ill, which on top of the cystic fibrosis had finally proven too much for his already fragile body to handle. Someone should tell Brooke.

I’m not sure why Dad chose an hour long car ride to do it. Perhaps he and Mum felt it would allow me time to let it wash over me, I’m really not sure what they had expected. But one thing I do imagine they expected were tears.

There were none.

Not a single one.

When he’d broken up with me, I’d constructed a wall about a million miles high, and equally as wide to protect me from both the feeling of being rejected without proper means, and the feeling of loss I’d surely feel in the face of losing him. We both still cared for each other very much. Very much. Though, for family reasons that are a little too personal to share, here, he felt it best he protect his final years as best he could. By saying goodbye to me. I understood. Still, it hurt.

On New Years Eve (his very last one, as it would turn out) he called me at my Aunties house, where I’d escaped the boring walls of home for a much needed holiday. ‘Is Chookie there?’ he asked, to my Aunties amusement. I took the phone, smiled at my Aunty, and fell into our world, again. He’d missed me. I’d missed him, too. We laughed and chatted for a bit. Finally, we said goodbye.

A few months later, Aaron was gone. He was about twenty, from memory: I was eighteen. And I didn’t care at all that he was gone, and I absolutely would not be attending his funeral, so they could all just go on and forget about that, ridiculous nonsense.

The day of the funeral came. I got up, as usual, and made the long trip in with my Dad where I began my daily routine. Pick, pack, tape up the box. Pick, pack, tape up the box. I’m not sure what part of the work induced the explosion. Perhaps it was the ripping sound the tape makes when it whirls off the tape gun, or perhaps it was simply the fact that I was at work, in the first place. All anybody knew was that one moment I was fine. The next, I was wailing. Sobbing in the most out of control fashion I could muster.

My Dad took me to the train station. If I caught the early train, I should make it to the funeral on time, and so I boarded the V-Line back to the country and off I went to say my last goodbye to Aaron. Technically, not my Aaron, anymore. But, according to my heart…still very much, my Aaron, apparently.

The train ride was interesting. The poor lady across from me did her very best to pretend my dark sunglasses hid my tears (and quietened the accidental sob that sometimes escaped me. Meep.) The dusty town I arrived in was quiet, too. No one would notice as I wandered along the streets, searching for a church I’d never been to before, in a town I’d never been to before.

I wouldn’t ask for directions, either. More accurately, I couldn’t ask for directions, on account of me being that odd girl: too shy to talk to any human outside of her comfort zone. So I asked the universe for directions. My plan was (and this is no joke) to follow whichever direction my hair blew in the wind, because certainly whatever higher forces I was connected to would get me to the funeral. Bonus points if they got me there on time.

I walked. And walked. And walked.

Finally, and with no thanks at all to my hair, I found the church. A little late, but early enough. The funeral had just begun.

‘Chookie,’ Aaron’s beautiful Mum said, after the service, as she wrapped me in her arms, and thanked me for coming to say goodbye to her baby boy. She seemed happy to see me (really, really happy) and in that moment…I knew the explosion of me was meant to happen, that I was meant to be there. For Aaron, but for his beautiful family, too.

They may not have noticed my absence if I’d not gone: the church was overflowing with hundreds, all of whom, apparently, Aaron had touched with his cheekiness, joy and boundless wisdom, too.

But I was there. And his family did notice.

I was grateful.

Grateful the morning had brought about the most unexpected emotional explosion, ever to have rocked my world.

And grateful my inner walls had crumbled.

Right in the nick of time.

Photo by Rachel Claire on Pexels.com

Categories
Life

Deeply

I think about her, sometimes, when my heart turns to sun. Nan. Her heart used to shine like that, too, which is why I can’t help but think of her when I feel intense love radiating from my own chest. As an off shoot of the kind of love she gave to me (and, let’s face it, probably genetics) I am who I am. And I love, as deeply as I love.

We fluff our ways through life, bothering about the silliest of things: when really we should hold the beauty, longer. Feel the love of our loved ones, longer. Express our love to others, without fear: give them the beautiful gift of sun that Nan gave to me.

I often think of Nan, and when I do I wonder why I loved her so deeply, why I still feel her today just as beautifully as I did when she was here. I loved her because she loved me. I loved her because there was never a question when I felt her energy how much it meant to her that I was alive. What a gift to be given by someone. What a gift: to know that you have touched their life, that you have meant something to their moments.

I shine when I look at my children with the same kind of love my Nan did when she looked at me, and I can only hope the depth of that love sinks into them as deeply as it has me.

I’m waffling a bit today, and that’s okay. I’m in my love place. I’m in my world of grateful and I intend to make the most of it and spread Nan’s sunshine, while I’m here.

She would have loved that.

She would have loved that I’ve given her sweet sunshine to you.

Photo by Edu Carvalho on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

Just A Game

Is it worth these precious breaths?

This fight,

this blame,

this game?

Is it really so important?

People die

(people who are loved)

and still we take for granted

life.

And we fight,

and we blame

in this game.

It’s just a game,

just a bloody game.

Just

a bloody

game.

Categories
Life

This Is It

Death, I suppose, does that to us. It’s one of those accidental growth inducing things that none of us actually want, but do end up getting from time to time. Lessons in perspective. Lessons in gratitude, these are just some of the positives that can come from death knocking on our doors. But today, death has broken me. And my empath metre is still reeling.

I’ve just read an article written by a Mum recounting her five-year-old sons final days. Cancer. To say I struggled to hold myself together wouldn’t be accurate. To say I fell to pieces is absolutely correct. What a devastating, devastating thing: to lose a child, and yet people do experience this sort of loss in life, and far too often for my liking.

I felt I owed it to that precious little man to reiterate the message his beautiful, heartbroken (positively grace-filled) Mum put out into the world, on behalf of her little boy. To live and love, is surely the greatest gift. To live now, to be grateful for this. What’s here. What’s out the window and how beautiful it is. To see that it’s pointless fussing over the little things, when there are even more little things to honour and cherish in this mixed bag of a life we live.

This Mum. She was given a beautiful gift, in the end, when her son’s final words were: ‘I am happy Mum.’ I am happy, Mum. It makes you think how dumb we are worrying about the extra weight we might put on over the holiday period, doesn’t it? It makes you think that, in the end, all we’re really here for is to realise nothing matters but the people we love, and love itself.

Anyhow, I should stop this because it’s going to take me down, again, but I think I’ve said it all, anyway. Most of you already know the way I view life. It is short and beautiful, and we have one chance.

One sweet, sweet, chance.

This is it.

This is it.

This is it.

Photo by Taryn Elliott on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

Wonderful, Wonderful

They didn’t understand her,

but they allowed her

just to be.

And that,

she knew,

was a wonderful, wonderful

wonder.

Categories
Poetry

Loneliness

There is depth and beauty in loneliness.

It is quiet.

Peaceful.

And though I’ve never known it,

loneliness is the wave that has known me

a lifetime, long.

Its quiet waits for nothing,

it just hangs in the air,

aching,

holding me closer

and closer

until I am quiet, too.

I will try to let it be.

To never ask it to leave,

but instead,

let it fill me

until I have no room left inside.

I will let it be, now,

loneliness.

I will no longer be attached

to wishing it gone.

Photo by Khoa Vu00f5 on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

The Clouds

Somewhere in the clouds

is where you will find me.

Am I broken,

or am I just me?

Floating,

somewhere beyond the day.

Floating,

not quite flying away.

As humanity goes,

I am far from normal,

and yet I’d not trade a cloud

for a rock, and a chance to be

normal.

What is normal?

What is this broken world

asking me to be?

Categories
Poetry

In Every Lie

There is a soft

quiet

truth

in every lie.

Categories
Poetry

Will You Love Me?

If I hold your hand still,

if I paint your world bright,

if I sing you my songs

will you love,

will you love me?

If I answer your needs

with a need of my own,

If I paint your world bright,

If I sing you my songs

will you love,

will you love me

love?