Anniversary

I found it interesting to read this exploration of remembering those who have passed. I live far from where my Dad is, and though there for his funeral have not seen his gravestone. But lately, I keep dreaming of him. Before he got really bad dementia, but was afraid, I wrote to him about a place in our woods, here, and I think he liked that. Now, when I go there, it feels like it is part of him, yet is alive, it is somewhere I can go

I remember reading or listening to something, which said it is a relatively modern thing to bury one's dead, that for most of our history we have either kept bones in our homes or as in some countries now, had special days where the barrier between is thin. When longing for someone, to be met by stone, that is hard in both ways. Your poem illustrates this well, the solid, still stone and fragile memories which move us as long as we hold them

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I really enjoyed this reflective piece marandina - and thank you so much for the audio versions too. I wish more people would do them. Congratulations on the golden cherries!

The ritual of burial, the pain of loss, the desire to connect with those beyond the veil...relatable sorrow – expressively captured in your poem. Recently, I traveled to where my parents are buried - I stood there and let the reflections of their smiles fill me with bittersweet longing to hear their voices, see them again...hug them. I know that patch of grassland is not where they are - souls freed from mortal cages do not linger in the ground -but because it is the only mortal marking of their existence, it has that reverence- their time lived, marked in stone.

we all remeber differently, but there is a sameness about it. 

Moving without being sentimental. Anniversaries are often poignant simply because the natural elements of the day bring it all back. I'm often unaware of the anniversary date of my father's death but there is something about the weather, daylength etc which will jolt my memory. 'looking through a backlit tunnel' is a magic line. 

Time slips away like shifting sand, that's such a fitting sentiment. We never forget those loved ones that have passed over, but time has a way of healing the sad memories, so that we only recall those good times.

Your poem was moving in more ways than one Paul.

Jenny. 

When my grandmother lived with us, my father got frustrated when she was noticed to be having another 'gloom day' which would mean another death-anniversary having arrived. He felt she enjoyed going into such a gloom. Which is sad, not to turn to good memories and reminder to make use of the time left here for us and prepare for our passing.

Tombstones sometimes have interesting inscriptions, sometimes only dates. Memories can be much richer. Rhiannon

Hi Paul

What a wonderful poem - remembering the dead, and the good times that were had.