To Irene....a Celebration of Life

Last week, an English friend, here in our nearby village died suddenly, after enduring for months the rigours of medicine and health care. Upbeat and loving life till the end she left a sadness of a journey but shortly shared.I tried to support in my own small way with short posts and caring words. Hoping my own  illness and thoughts would somehow help. But as was inevitable she sadly died.

I write, its how I cope, its my voice in the shadows, my hope for a picture to make sense of my 'Grey Jigsaw'. So yesterday I penned a poem, which is here to share. Not a life lost, more a life well lived and a soul well loved.

Today was the funeral, a different very French affair; secular, practical, beautiful, even delicate in how it allowed us all to morn. She was there with us, alive in our eyes, touching our hearts and each remembering....a real celebration of her life.

So here it is,

To Irene…….

A friend but just a short while, a life full and fine.

I’ll never know you better, our lives will not entwine.

You made people smile, opened up their minds.

You reached out for hope, not close the blinds.

To strive for love, to begin anew.

With courage fine your ‘poppy’ blew.

In care and humour and forthright fair,

You engaged the world, not sit & stare.

Life by its braces, lived to the brim.

Laughter and love and follow that whim.

To all who remember and knew you so well.

A sadness, a sigh but stories to tell.

And we look on now at a friend too soon lost.

A friendship not blossomed, your life the cost.

But first days of autumn will now always be,

In memory of Irene, steadfast ‘poppy’.

And as the wind blows, those dancing flower heads

We’ll remember your smile alive in those ‘reds’.

And the colours of autumn will play in our heart

Testament to your life and love not apart.

We’ll smile at the beauty, remember your name.

Alive ever constant, the memories remain.

At stressful times....

I’m feeling kind of anxious, the thoughts run on and on

I’m scared, I’m tight, I’m breathless.

 It’s gone, It’s gone it’s gone!

The edge of fear and hope lies revolving in my head,

I can’t suspend  despair,  step towards the edge.

Most days I feel no different, I go from day to day.

Then something slides apart and I can’t see any way!

And others, all around me must surely see it true,

I’m lingering and I’m struggling to see the whole day through.

It may just be a word, or uncertainty of time,

How someone else conspires, there is no reason, rhyme.

Then all about is spinning, the fear engulfs my brain.

The light is getting darker, I cannot see again.

And each and all continue, the journey of their life.

Oblivious of fatefulness, continuing the strife.

Happy in the knowledge that they know not of fate.

And smiling blind & jointly; no hour, no sigh no date.

I feel my own deep morning, a chasm of belief.

With tears of loss and longing. The floundering of my grief.

I can’t withstand the sadness, the darkness or the pain.

But just to hold you near, to have you whole again.

Im lost, Im cold, Im empty and sadness rules my heart.

I’ll love you oh forever; together or apart.

So kiss me low and loving , a childs hand to hold.

As daylight edges onward I need must soon be bold.

To lift my head and mutter, no shout out to the sky.

I live and love today, this hope will never die.

Hold on, look up and steadfast, not gone, not gone, not gone.

Not scared or tight, nor breathless. But one and one and one!

Age and Understanding.....the Sleep of Reason

It’s been difficult being back in the UK, as my ninety year old mum is struggling! Now for those of you who have close bonds with their mothers this might be difficult to follow, but my mum is a gem, , I love her dearly, shes one of a kind and liked by all, but she has never been close  and she struggles with physical proximity. Reared as an only and over indulged child, she does not make friends easily, though she has a wonderful way in being with people, so long as they don’t get close. When folks tell me their mum was or is their best friend I cry a little inside, I’d love to have that relationship.

Through thick and thin I’ve stood by her. When she got divorced forty five years ago, I moved home and spent my savings taking her on her then only foreign holiday. She has spent many holidays since, many weeks and weekends staying with us. When I was working I tried to see her every week and help in any way I could. But families are families and, unlike my father (who thankfully is also still alive) who shows affection readily, and my best efforts, mum and I are not close.

Sadly she has several age associated ailments, is getting frail and also lives on her own, but her difficulty is not so much in what is happening to her, but more about her inability to accept change. She’s built skills over the years to cope with the day to day, but she’s never stepped away from the safe or ventured into her own mind or really considered her own responses. For mum, everything is resolvable by spending money, blaming the world, buying favours or trying to control everyone.

I love her to bits, but shes become unable to accept help, afraid and in  denial as to changes. It sounds harsh, but she has no time for others; my cancer journey, my birthday are an irrelevances, she turns away. All the time she insists she’s fine but is driving the family mad. On the one hand she doesn’t want to be alone, but won’t accept help coming in or any change. She is too afraid to sleep in her bed, but insiists there’s no problem. She will neither talk to or about her difficulties, but just wants it to go away. Like a child, she is unable to understand that things change, she rejects anything or anyone who tries to help.

So each meeting, face to face or by phone is an emotional roller coaster and takes my resolve down. The social worker thinks counselling would help, the medics suggest assistance support and the family give a mixture of too much attention or not enough structure. Meanwhile, in my limbo of life, always now aware that I must needs enjoy every moment, ‘live for the day’ I struggle to help, indeed to cope.

I read a story about a psychologist explaining a concept to an eager audience. She asked someone to hold a glass, at arms length, outstretched and, as the talk continued she kept topping the glass up with water until it was full. At the end of the talk the psychologist asked the audience what they thought of the demonstration and, thinking the concept was that of the ‘Stress Bucket’, which when constantly filled, overflows, they responded accordingly.

“No”, explained the speaker, “it’s not how much emotion, how much stress, how much anxiety, that’s the water. Its not your ability to cope or offload or de-stress, that’s the glass”.

“The problem is how long you have to hold the glass full of water at an arms length!”

For me that arms length is my life to date and, I need to put down that glass  a little and breathe…

A spoonful of sugar...

Its been a while writing, a sort of apathy mixed with fear. I've spent weeks in France in splendid health isolation; cushioned from the reality of the post Brexit UK and hospital appointments.
So it was with some trepidation we returned to the UK to see the oncologist. A regular three month appointment; the mark of time in my life, my very own health metronome. A long journey, an anxious, thoughtful time and then suddenly we were there, in the hospital.
Time stops...tick, tock, tick, tock...everything on hold again!

Now criticise the NHS all you may, I have nothing but praise and that day was no exception! Arriving ten minutes early we barely had chance to sit when we were called to the next 'Sub Wait'.  This time it was straight through and we found ourselves sitting in the consultants room trying to make light, be confident, stay focussed.

"Terrible events in Cannes?" she said, " Shock about Brexit" she said, but no medical reference, no examination, no studying of notes or  muttered conversations with colleagues. Finally, in confusion, Ron said "Well what happens now" and, she looked a little confused, as if suddenly caught in a an inappropriate situation. Then she smiled and said, " Well how are you?" "I'm good, feeling tired, but fine"" That's great " she replied...."

"Well what happens next?"  Ron repeated."Well" said the oncologist, "you can go back to France" "When?" we retorted, " Today if you want" she said, smiling and completely at ease. So there it was 'not symptomatic' therefore no scans, examinations, no drugs and no treatment...just smiles...amazing!

Now in our local French town of Ernee in the Pay de la Loire is a famous chocolatier; in fact a huge chocolate factory called 'Monbana'. Before leaving we had purchased some of their exclusive chocolates as a gift for the oncologist and her team. Now seemed the appropriate time to give them to her and so with returning smiles, this is what we did.

Her response surprised us even further, but to understand you must first know her name. My oncologist, beautiful, highly intelligent, efficient and highly talented in her field is call Mrs Bhana.

She smiled broadly at the gift and thanked us, saying how very personal and thoughtful this was. Because, she proceeded to explain, in her families origins, the family name was 'Bana' and we had brought these chocolates specifically for her. 'Mon' or 'My', 'Bana '...'Monbana'! Now that's the sort of wonderful coincidence that rarely occurs. We all ended up smiling broadly at each other; each content in this chocolate triangle.

Sometimes life, it seems, has a wonderful way of surprising you, what is it they say,' life being stranger than the script of a book'. There it was, life facing us full on, giving hope  and healing in that moment of humanity