Put on my poker face but I’m a current of emotions inside. ha ha!
Another reason I chose this is because,my uncle made a joke that my Gran looked like Don Corleone, at my wedding in June last year,in her wheelchair and wearing dark sunglasses.
Laugh, cry, live or die.
I’m putting on my armour – mere mortal that I am and,
for the next week preparing for battle with all things to do with organising a funeral for next Wednesday.
I remember standing in my gran’ s room for 9 hours -maybe more . My Ma is super religious and she was telling my Gran to go to the light- just walk to it. She was telling her that she was ready for her to leave.
‘Leave – I let you go’
I don’t know if I’m sick and twisted,I mean we all deal with grief in our own ways but, I had this occurring thought that-my Gran wanted to sit up and look at my Ma and in a demonic voice go:
” There is no fucking light. Give me water, feed me. I’m in pain – at the very least give me a dose of morphine, you inhumane bastards”
My ma kept on asking where my ( dead) Grandpa and Aunt were. Why they were taking so much time to collect Gran to take her to heaven.
Sarcasm got the best of me – I was thinking ‘who in their right mind would come back to this shit hole?’
If I went to a country and got food poisoning or a strange illness. I would not go back to that place because of my previous association with the place.
That is how long it took her to go.
Here is my biggest thought. It’s not pretty and it’s highly unsentimental.
I think; because my ma was ready to say goodbye that is why Gran is dead.
No, I’m not saying she killed her. There are many laws blurred with the assisted dying law. I am pro for it only, if it’s not dressed up as the blessing and will of a God.
I think if we had nursed her back to health -given her water, kept her in the hospital, fed her etc…
She would still be here.
She would still be the vacant shell of the woman she once was -living in a bed,24/7, surrounded by iconic pictures and statues of some white Jesus,who happened to be a shoddy carpenter but a damn good healer/shaman/ trickster – idk 😀 figure that out 😂
The doctor wouldn’t give her pain relief because she didn’t look like she was in pain.
She had vascular dementia and Alzheimer – her body couldn’t respond -neither could her mind.
Just because she was wasn’t thrashing about -making a nuisance of herself;
Does that mean she wasn’t in pain?
If It took me 72 hours of
no food, water, people looking at me crying, and me with a rosary bead around my neck, to hopefully, slip away
I can assure you – I would be in severe pain – if not physically, then most certainly mentally.
I choose the battles to fight.
It doesn’t matter what I believe because the fact is: she is not here.
My own beliefs or even my daughter’s theory that she is ‘ hopping from one aeroplane to the next travelling the world ‘ or whatever.
It’s a comfort to me that I can’t see her in that care home -wasting away.
I don’t know what possessed me to do it!
I’m analytical and an observer -It was about 10 pm on Saturday night. We were all tired. Gran was awake- not dying ….. ( if this comes across as disrepectful – please bear in mind,I have my own beliefs about religion and dignity in dying)
My Ma had fallen asleep on the cushion part of the bed, my gran was lying in her bed and, hanging on the wall in the background, was a picture of his lord’s son , most merciful saviour.
I have the picture on my phone.
It ‘s a picture that shows that humans suffer. God’s don’t move from their paintings and show mercy.
if that were true there would be NO suffering in the world.
The picture shows a dutiful daughter , exhausted and full of love, refusing to let her mother die alone and scared,
watching over them is some picture of the son of a God doing- fuck all.
I won’t put this picture on here out of respect for my family.
It is an image that clearly expresses my inner conflict about my love and duty towards my family and my own beliefs about life and beyond…..
I particularly like my daughters belief that my Gran is rocking it on Jupiter.
That is where I would go – screw heaven!
They’ve denied entry for this amount of time. Sure they can hang on for a bit longer.
I’m going travelling . I don’t need money.
The challenge is not only a blog challenge but it’s about challenging myself to move forwards
Today is all about:
choosing make up for my gran to wear – she’s being cremated( she wanted to be buried), choosing flowers, travelling around the country side picking up various legal documents with my gran’s social security number and evidence that she is dead.
My gran has been treat by the government with more respect now she is dead,than when she was alive.
I sound angry , bitter.
I’m not. I’m glad she’s not suffering.
I hate hypocrisy and injustice and I speak my mind often, especially when I care about something or someone.
I fell out with my tutor about my TMA 1 script because of our different perspectives on the homelessness crisis.
Come on ,
This is my character.
I will be 40 years old in 4 years time. I’m set in my ways just like jelly. :D😁😁😁😁🤔🤔
I can learn new tricks if tempted 😉
I tag the music challenge to other characters (bloggers)
It’s not always appropriate but I do mean well. I love fiercely. I am there for my mother until her last breathe. I have her back. I will lay my life down for her. Many times I’ve manned up and apologised (to people)if I went overboard and said let’s agree to disagree.
Never knew there was a word to describe their combined fate.
Never knew Shakespeare studied the stars and knew much about lovers who mate.
Never knew they were lined up as opposites-never to align on the same side.
Thoughts of opposites attract are magic tinted Methos applied,
so people can trust to confide
in each other.
Always end up leaving one for another.
A summer’s day, sitting, drag remnants on a Marlboro tab.
Destiny reeled her in like an unlicensed cab.
Doomed. Life growing inside – feelings of Rigor Mortis was all she could summon to transpire.
The truth was the loss of her will
She had lost that inner fire.
Under a freckled thumb- tangled in a webbed lie
through it the sun still shone.
A shadow emerged from the light, and a heart realized its given art.
Fairytale savior- a hero always ready with a smile.
Swallowing down screams.
into a false smile.
Their eyes connect – should she tell him what she has done?
It was never to be.
Swallowed a lethal poison in an effort to be free.
Yes, she intended to take the life with her she had growing inside.
It was a desperate plea.
Shades of nausea, don’t you see?
Coins fall to the floor along with all the great works of Wordsmith Shakespeare.
It was easier to think unlovable thoughts
imagined hatred in speech bubble form.
To hear him say you are not for me
distilled in clouds of fear.
Bus stop revellers turn heads
eager for a spectacle.
He walked away.
Not trusting him still burns her cheeks
to the same Fahrenheit, she felt that day.
Rain lands on penetrable skin,
wanting much more and expecting the very least,
set the fickle tone for the rest of this cycle of the ‘beck and call’.
Inevitably Seasons passed.
A winters day,
he called out her name.
His smile cleared up the fog of habitual trudging through the every day
blurs into arts of abstract- more imposing than some great display admired from afar.
Swept up with day to day folk uncluttered by star-crossed philosophy.
another chance to show him- somehow he would think.
that girl -WOW!
Fight for her
over imbibed, arguments stippled in blackouts.
with sand she dug up for her own grave.
Dirty bitten down nails,
silent punishment for things that could never be undone.
Who’s to say who was truly in the wrong?
She can’t remember much
past walking into the house promising the most fun.
Dressed and forgiven – ready to wed the worthiest white knight to ever traverse her path.
Dichotomy sanctifies such a union.
Tear’s splotch faces, toasts, fuzzy memories.
no need for a tuppence
Freely sung the newlyweds a blessing.
Something along the lines of tinkles chimes and her laugh.
Afterthoughts cushioned by rose petals
a lavender fusion
flagellation on self
imposed by guilt
deepening the confusion.
How do we wake, make our move if caught in the spin cycle of punishing our souls?
her thoughts told her.
If indeed they were merely star-crossed
She would willfully find a way.
Barefooted, she soberly walked into a live fire burning on coals.
Figure out what she felt she owed or indeed was it all a division in her head.
Passions stunned into a state of arousal
Who’s to say if it fulfilled her?
Tears wanton to overflow
nearly lost sense of all ground.
37 days she had not bled.
There are only four seasons.
winter clearly signaling death and rebirth to come.
His posturing lingered long in her mind.
the duresse of her thoughts;
permanently fixtured her by the spun out Catherine wheels.
Clarity comes in an obscure fashion.
Manner and presentation are not facts.
Facts -harsh and cold.
unveiled decision in an exposed mind, scuttling in the dark
not even aware he let loose his redundant rats.
Infiltrate every corner of her mind.
Passively they sit by,
osmosis eyes watch a happy family in a tourniquet.
Forced to apply more pressure.
Open up the wound.
Calculated a reactive to get one man’s truth.
Perhaps Star-crossed lovers are indeed something to be forgot .
Her silence is her answer.
Silence sees her own worth, she sees clarity it doesn’t bother her if the passion died,
Along with the whereabouts of his existence
Shadows move all the time,
even in Beirut.
She walks along her path with a smile on her face.
Her silence doesn’t require her to look up for another clue.
He was never a star-crossed lover but merely another.
* remember: just because one person/people reveals their opinion or truth about what they think of you to you. This is not the whole truth or even half of it. You are not other people’s opinions. Never let people wear you down into believing you are merely what say or what they think you are. No one has their shit together all the time or even most of the time 😀
Words … my brain hasn’t the capacity to express what you have done to make me feel whole.
You love me blindly – kiss me fiercely. Tender hands – your love never dims or folds.
Oh, sorrow. so may sorrows I have bestowed upon thee.
and yet, you still sought to find me.
I never knew I would ever feel…
It’s a backdraft of silver outlined in glow.
Words, fail to express – it all comes across as sans-esque
I look at the man you have become. I see you through the eyes of clarity.
Rose tinted glasses were never my thing. Maybe other boys looked better in blushed gallows – less grim.
I know you, I love you. I respect you. I suspect me.
Is is because I gave you such a hard time?
Or is there truly one soul mate for us in this endoscopic world in mime?
How can this feel so right yet so wrong?
Cognitive dissonance – never felt so omnipotent and strong.
I love you. I am in love with you. Thank you for never letting me go.
These words falter…
..my hands move to type in slow.
Hesitant, all I want you to know is….
… I know.
I’m shouting stars of praise across the Pleiades milky way.
You are the man who will give our daughters away.
You are the man who will help set our sons on the right path.
If they become half the man you are – then songs will rip out of my heart.
I didn’t expect any of this.
I pushed and I pulled and indeed I still impulsively resist.
Two stubborn pairs – what a conjuring affair.
If I lose you, my love – indeed I don’t think I will make it to despair.
wherever our paths go.
Know – without you being a part of my cosmic. Darling, I would not have had a capacity to show I can grow.
*For my husband, this is really hard to publish, my husband knows me well. I am complex, sarcastic, loving and bloody awkward. It’s about time I expose my feelings for him. It’s such a lame poem -I haven’t done this man justice, I’m cringing in my sappiness. I don’t express love well in words *
‘If I told you I care, I still do. A person can only be told ‘to go away’ so many times before they must act on a person’s wishes. It is called respect. It doesn’t mean that person doesn’t care or has changed their mind.
It does mean that person is doing what they need to do.
It doesn’t mean the heart does not suffer- the mind must navigate a lost heart back to a place where some sense can be found.
To leave an ungoverned heart loose, in a world, that professes to and propagates reason over emotion- would be to condemn the heart,to a lifetime of insanity: a world of no sense’