Time Draws Near

I started a new notebook for poetry today. And have almost filled it.

Not bragging cos most of it’s shit… point is I am sad. And when I am sad, I write poetry. And as with most of my writing, it’s for me not you!

But anyway… should explain, I guess…

The hub’s surgery approaches. It quite honestly could go either way. It is a relatively simple procedure, but his major organs are weak and struggle to function under normal circumstances, his immune system is fried and he has generally given up trying to live. So I suspect this might be the end. As, I feel, does baby; she is considering every moment with her dad the ‘last time we ever do __ together’ and refuses to leave his side for a moment. It is all I have been able to do to make her sleep in her own room, having proclaimed that ‘He shouldn’t be alone when this might be the end’.

There is nothing that can prepare you as a parent for hearing that from your nine year old.

However myself and the older girls might feel, this man is all she knows. She doesn’t know the amazing, selfless, active person we all remember so well. Her protestations over the need for the operation lay testament to that when she stated quite clearly: “I don’t want a normal daddy. There is nothing wrong with the one I have!” This was the point yesterday at which I finally broke. I have remained tearless throughout the entire last ten years, but to hear her thoughts had me in silent floods as she stomped away to her room. This was the point at which I realised that whatever comes of the operation itself, none of us will get what we really want.



But there we are.

For those who ask; those who are afraid to ask; those who don’t really care but have a nosey disposition….

The countdown is almost done… biggest fear: that nothing changes.

And here is one of the poems I churned out today, cos it kind of says what I want to say better in a way I can’t otherwise - as a literary piece, I am aware how dire it is. Submitted here, it's a mere reflection of emotion... should I require you give it proper attention, I'll post it elsewhere!

The empty shell; hollow but for
Organs barely working
As they fight the odds
To continue with perfunctory motions.

Fragile, translucent
My fingers trace shadows of a former inhabitant
Falling on too many hopes, too many dreams
Which burden the weak creature at my fingertips.

Cold, lifeless, empty,
The blood which filled flesh un-touched now halting
Freezing in place, suspended as if awaiting a better time
A new life to be lived.

I long for the eyes to open,
My only indicator as to who now occupies this flesh
Tempted to peel back the lids
Just a peak, who would know?

But I fear what lies beneath; which is worse?
To see the eyes of that stranger look back at me
Or to see that this lifeless body before me
Contains the dream I held onto all along.

Returned in time to softly whisper his last Goodbye.