Description

These roses were given to my mum for her bereavement, they were from a group of mothers from my younger sister’s old school. I sat looking at them for the duration of their life when I was sat at home with my mum in the living room. They were the most beautiful roses I have ever seen and I know this painting does not do them any sort of justice. They did their job though and brought us peace and comfort. I made my roses weep, to express how I feel about my father passing away.

A Poem About My Father’s Death

I’m trying to tell you why I’m not ok
I’m not fine, I’m lost
I’ve descended into a bath of emotion
Though surrounded by love and feeling in the fold
I still need more time with my silence

There is too much going on
I’m not ready for more of this life
I need to process my loss first
An ending – yes
My father is dead

He thought he would recover
To be young and agile again
Without changing anything
His decline took just over a year
He was a bit of a legend

His frailty indicated his demise
When others refused to see
I indulged him completely
He never knew the animosity I felt for him
I just kept right on bestowing my love

I pine to be with my husband and mum
Our intimacy is like a wee faceted gemstone
That we marvel at and cherish
The grief brought this gift
His heart failure was peaceful

I wake up at night
I think of my mum on her own
Her loss is worse than mine
Her loss is what tears me apart
There’s nothing I can do

I have tried though
I did all my dads jobs
I kept my mum company
I eased her into her new life, slowly
Gently telling her it’s ok to be alone

Broaching the subject
Makes me crack wide open – vulnerable
Like my allegiance to God is leaking raw spirit
You can take advantage – or not
I have no choice, I’m changed

The shock is surreal
It lays white in my belly
Remembering his dignified corpse helps
He’s definitely gone
I saw him lowered deep into the ground

When it’s my turn to go
I to want to go into the earth
My carcass will nourish another
Like I have taken flesh into me
I want to be eaten

The End