It’s the simple things that remind me of you.
Like the pair of pyjamas I put on last night
that made me think of you, dancing round the
kitchen of our house in Galway that summer.
Even the toilet brings back memories of the
poem you wrote that made us all howl and
the similarities it shared with that of your
sister, as though you’d read each others minds.
But then again, that’s hardly surprising, given
that you two seemed inseperable for all those
years you were in my life. Until now, when the
realities hit and those childhood notions that
those we love will be here forever, are shattered
all over again. I still have the cards you both sent,
filled with such love, when I lost child after child.
I never could bear to part with things like that.
The candle on my mantle, a Christmas present
from you three years ago, still sits unlit and
probably will for as long as it reminds me of
those trips to Kildare when we danced in circles
and roared at at the mere thought of a Wonderbra.
I’ve spent the last few days reading your poems,
which at the time meant little to me. Yet somehow
they now seem like a link to what once we all shared.
The many nights of laughter and those when we
wept at each others pain seemed like a distant
memory, until yesterday, when I looked at your
sister’s face, etched with the ache she will carry
forever. And the love in her eyes when she spoke
your name that will never disappear. I’d give
anything to let her have just one more day with you.
One day, that never had to end the way it did.
I didn’t want this to be sad. I wanted to share my
happy memories, to make people laugh, the way
you did so many times. But I find myself sitting here
with tears in my eyes at the mere thought of never
hearing your laughter or the words of wisdom and
love you offered me on many a darkened day. But
still, I have my memories and they shall stay with me
for as long as the brightest star shines in the night sky.
Claire Steenson
29th April 2009
Author notes
This was written for a dear friend of mine who passed away on 18th April after battling with cancer for the second time in the space of a few years. I shall never forget the years I was blessed to have Pat in my life nor the love and laughter we shared. Rest in peace my dear friend.
A contest entry
- In Tribute To Angels by Heavenly Angel.
675 points, ended November 11, 36 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Any thoughts on a title??
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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What treasured memories you have of Pat
!
I bet she was a fine lady as your descriptions of her and her tribute to her speak well...
I'm so very sorry for your loss, my friend
Thank you for sharing Pat with me; may you be blessed! -
very well put, dear friend/sis... it's hard... trying to keep positive with the happy memories. when they are no longer here to make more happy memories with... those memories bring tears as much as laughter and smiles. *huggers* blessings to you, my friend... and thank you for sharing this with us here.
Rhiannon
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Claire, I can't begin to explain how many ways this poem hit home, as for the title, surely a simple For Pat... is an introduction, summary and part and parcel... May I extend my sympathy and empathy towards you at this, the freshest slice of pain-filled reality of life. It's a raw, honest write, the depth is hard to wade through when 'tis so very personal , there I am, rambling away akin to a babbling buffoon and yet it's when standing mirroring such loss when we are lost for words. Cancer is something that cares not for colour, race, caste or creed, it is unbiased in it's voracious appetite to eat away at life, it's not much comfort to know that it scythes indiscriminately but it's an open arm embrace extended to all families suffering to feel what every other friend and family feels at this , this goodbye that we wish need't have been said. You have suffered so much and yet are one of the kindest, caring, genuine hearts in the world, it's a testimony to Pat and to yourself, I send heart-hugs to you and to Pat's family
God Bless
Yvette
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Thank you Yvette for your lovely comment. It's hard to believe it has been two weeks already since Pat lost her her very brave battle. You may remember about 2 years ago I asked for peoples help to put together a collection of poems for my dear friend Mags on the 20th anniversary of her son Stuarts death? Well Pat was Mags sister and also a member of the Bannside Scribblers, the writers group that I belonged to for over 10 years until a series of blunders frustrated me that much that I left. Now Im rambling. Anyway, I have hardly written a word since I left the group but somehow this event has started off that process again. I somehow feel that it may be Pat, sending me some kind of message, a message I know she shared with her sister after I left, which her sister just shared with me a few days ago.
Anyway, again, thank you for the lvoely comment. I just wish it was under happier circumstances.
Love Claire sss -
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Claire...
I remember well, I wrote a poem titled " The Shine of Stuart" in his honour and rememberance, I recall that you said you always bought her flowers on his anniversary but wished to do something different and so you shared her grief so that respect and understanding was found and founded and it was.You have a huge heart Claire, you have my utmost respect and admiration as one of the bravest poets that I am privileged to have encountered the essence of. Maybe Mag's sharing Pat's message has unlocked and unleashed your muse, for you write , like most of us do, best when it's from the head or the heart. I am sorry to learn of your disassocation with the writer's group, you were an inspiration to yourselves, your community, the world and that took courage Claire, maybe Pat is sublimimaly reminding you of your fortitude and believes in your ability to pour your soul onto the page as I do. I am not qualified to give advice re writing poetry but would say to you write when you simply must, when it matters, when it means something to you even if no-one else understands, there is a special bond between the poet and the tree and maybe, maybe trees willingly let us scribe to soothe ours and other's souls as the seasons change. Enough of my rambling, but you know I never forget to include Hannah in my prayers either, you only ever pick up a pen for good reason, * heart-hugs" yvette x
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