My Mother Myself

Cherry

By Silver Spun Sand

Fri, 21 Nov 2014
  • 8404 reads
14 comments
 
A Monday in the long, hot summer
of 1983.  The bus window flicked with flies...
as the one in her room – Tooting Bec Asylum.
 
My mother – sitting in a chair by her bed...
sixty-four, but looking ninety.  Dad and me
chat amongst ourselves...speech long-gone 
lost to her.
 
If only I had known it was the last time
I would see her – when would I have left...
ever adding minutes of her life to mine?
 
As it was, a doctor on his rounds ended
our sojourn, so I kissed her, stroked her hand; 
nails like daggers.  
 
Such was her care in that god-forsaken place;
told her we’d come again, tomorrow.
 
May as well have saved my breath, for all it meant;
for her, there was no tomorrow, nor yesterday,
only perpetual todays.
 
Stepped out into a muggy Monday afternoon
onto a number 9 bus –Tooting to Putney;
 
my mother – sectioned, aged 64 and for why?  
Early onset Alzheimer’s – her crime...
 
and theirs.  A blessing she passed away
as promptly as she did...just two weeks on;
 
disinfected, dehumanised, degraded...
and my dad’s entry in his diary that day,
 
‘Doris died. Had fish and chips for tea’.
 
When I read that, years later, on his own demise,
felt like a kid, on the stairs, at a grownups’
dinner-party...
 
there – accepted, and yet, not really present.
 
 
Certificate 15
Poem
Silver Spun Sand Poems
Inspiration Point (work that responds to our weekly writing cue)
Autobiography

Comments

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

Your piece of writing touched me so deeply Tina.

Reminded me of my own situation.

As always thoughtfully written.

Jenny.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Jenny - it made my Saturday to hear from you.  I hope things are OK.

As regards the poem, my philosophy is, that  it sometimes helps to know that others have experienced a similar set of circumstances, and goes a little way to aleviate that awful feeling of aloneness. 

All my best wishes to you.

Tina

 

Submitted by Parson Thru on

That last sentiment... Drove in the last nail for me, Tina. Very powerful. Like it tiptoed gently before stamping on my feet.

Parson Thru

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thanks for reading, PT, and for sharing your thoughts.  Very much appreciated.

Tina

 

Submitted by blighters rock on

Crikey, this sent a chill right up my spine. Beautifully written

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thanks, blighter's.  Obliged to yousmiley

Tina

 

Submitted by VeraClark on

What if and what did's captured with a gutting sharp eye and tenderness.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thank you, Vera.  'Nuff said.

Tina

 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

The small details of the mundane show how momentus the last contact is, all is preserved, impossible to resolve.  I like the ideas of soaking up your mother as yourself.  When we lose our mothers we lose some of ourself.

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thanks, Philip...no end.

Tina

 

Submitted by love_writing on

So emotively written...touching...and sad. I agree with PT regarding the last sentence, you created a wonderfully sad visual which emphasised the aloneness felt...

The loss of parents, grandparents...or even distant people you were once close to, is so hard to accept.

Facing similar situation myself just now. Thank you for sharing.

 

love_writing

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Hello, LW, and I am so sorry to hear about your present circumstance.  

You are so right, in all you say, and I wish you and yours well.  Thinking of you.

Tina

 

Submitted by love_writing on

Thank you Tina

Your emotive poem also inspired me to write about a close relative who is pretty fragile at the moment. Thaats what great writing is all about- connecting and inspiring others!

 

 

 

love_writing

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

I'll second that, with knobs on. LWsmiley

Tina