The Leaving

Cherry

By Silver Spun Sand

Mon, 10 Mar 2014
  • 2077 reads
15 comments
 
Mind if I sit here? Lovely afternoon, isn’t it?
Who did you come to visit? Me? My son.
Twice a week I come...rain, or shine.
 
Those flowers are nice.  Can’t bring mine lilies;
he was allergic...do you see? The pollen and such.
Silly, isn’t it?  Wouldn’t affect him...not now,
but even so, I don’t want to take chances. 
 
When he first went, I thought of that poem...
the one about him just being in another room...
the afterlife, and all that, and I believed in it.  Only,
presently, I'm not that sure.
 
Six years it’s been; thought it might get easier
but it doesn’t.  Gets harder, in a way; do you imagine
you see them...in the street, in a queue at the checkout
at Tesco?  
 
Death – it’s all so final, and if the truth be known
we don’t come here for them, we come here
for ourselves.  They tell us everyone feels guilty,
after...a normal part of grieving, they say.  Say
it'll pass...get better.  Well, I'm still waiting...
along with you, and the rest.
 
We tell them things – like their niece and nephew
have started at Uni, and how proud they’d be
if they could see them now.  He’s big on Maths,
and she’s into some ology, or another.
 
Tell them, their father’s Parkinson’s getting worse, 
and they’re worried how they’re going to cope, if
that sister of theirs moves abroad like she’s proposed.
 
We tell them we’ve given away their clothes
to Oxfam or Help the Aged...bagged them up
in black sacks like so much garbage...even the suit
they’d worn at their graduation.  Auctioned
their piano on E Bay...a steal at twenty quid. 
 
That their cactus they'd had from a child
is still alive, and thriving, after all this time...that their ex,
they haven’t clapped eyes on since the funeral
(and good riddance). That the little clay-pot
they made in the infants', fell and broke
the other day...
 
Tell them, perhaps, their mother’s still writing...
not sure why the dickens she bothers, but of sorts,
it’s a kind of a diary; a legacy for posterity, even
if nothing more.  That’s what their sister says,
who still misses them, like hell, and her kids
have started at Uni...
 
Yes...sorry.   You’re right and right again.  
I said that before, and it does look like rain.  
Not like me to be lost for words, except
I don’t know how to end this story...
as we get up to go; leaving them,
and not leaving them here... 
Certificate PG
Poem
Silver Spun Sand Poems
Spiritual
Love

Comments

Submitted by Bee on

If you were to make and publish a book of poems for her - this should be in it, Tina. No frills reality and continued love. Loved that her cactus still thrives - theres a lot in that stanza. The picture at the top is beautiful. Perfect.

Bee

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thanks, so very much, Bee, and funnily enough, I have just started work on a collection; hoping that my talented granddaughter will do some illustrations for it as a matter of fact, but I shan't hold my breathsmiley

Hope your week is a good one.

Tina

 

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

There isn't an end to the story, for your sharing your story and daily way, or as you would like to share, and 'the mother keeps writing' to share with many others … not just on a park bench for a minute. I'm glad you can do so. And I hope those two get on well at uni, and their mother has adapted to their going. Rhiannon

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thank you so much for your thoughts and your words, Rhiannon, and the answer to the last question is she finds it hard, but is adapting, as we all have to do some of the time, like it or not.

Tina

 

 

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

I agree with what Bee said...there's so much that needs publishing here Tina, and even more that other people in a similar situation can take comfort from.

Jenny.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

I do hope so, Jenny. When life gets tough, it's so awful to feel we are the only one in the world who is going through difficult and trying times, but it we find someone else shares the same feelings as we do, it stops us feeling so alone.

Many thanks.

Tina

 

Submitted by jeand on

Hi Tina

What a beautiful poem, so full of insight into the emotions associated with having lost a loved one.

Jean

Jean Day

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

From the bottom of my heart, thanks, Janesmiley

Tina

 

Submitted by Sooz006 on

We tell them things... Hi Silver, I'd change htis, it's too impersonal, I know you're including the perosn she's talking to in the monologue, but I'd still make it personal. 'We tell her things,'  and 'We tell her her father's Parkin...'  They is too hard and cuts the empathy. 

 

Another beauty from you, girl, rich with dull pain wihch makes it all the more poingant for it, it doesn't come across as acute pain, just melancholy and dull, as with the passge of time, it's not bitter or angry just sad and 'getting on with it,'...beautiful. 

 

 

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Sooz, much appreciate all your thoughts on this one, which, in turn, has given me things to think on.  Many thankssmiley 

Tina

 

Submitted by VeraClark on

The times I've seen people in queues and nearly puked on the pain it reared. This is very knowing and experienced on grief, probably because of its honesty. Tina, all those little things you've covered though, they build up into a poetic heart slam. I do agree with Sooz, it's painful with some cushioning somehow but can't quite pin down how you've managed that. A gem.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Vera - thank you, so very much.

Tina

 

Submitted by Denzella on

Hello Tina,

Once again it is a beautiful poem and the sadness is palpable but I don't agree with Sooz when she says 'they'  cuts the empathy but I did find the use of 'they' and 'them' and 'their' confusing but then again maybe I'm missing something.

Tell them, their father’s Parkinson’s getting worse, 

and they’re worried how they’re going to cope, if

that sister of theirs moves abroad like she’s proposed.

The way I'm reading this suggests to me that the person on the bench also has a father with Parkinson's which I am quite sure was not your intention.   It's probably just me reading it that way but being such a beautifully expressed poem I want to understand it completely.

Moya

 

 

Submitted by Denzella on

Hello again, Tina,

I think I might have got it.  I was reading this as a monologue but if I've got it at last then it's a duologue.   Those last three lines so sad but sublime in what they express.

I hope  I have not misunderstood this time. but if I have please forgive.  Poetry is not my strong point if indeed i have strong point.

Moya

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Moya...you have never misunderstood this poem, and if you had done, as the author, it would have been my fault.  A reader takes what they will from what they read, and both scenarios that you proposed are totally viable.

I am only more than pleased that you found so much in this poem, and even made me think of things I hadn't even thought of...if you know I meansmiley

Tina