Fragmenting

My mother telephoned to say my aunt has cancer.  Something happened.  A few years ago.  A sorry, sordid little tale.  But she doesn't deserve that.  No one does.  Everything is fragmenting around me.  Even Nobby is fading away.  Enjoy what you can while you can.  Apologies for the incoherence.

I gave this poem to Nobby just after our beautiful neighbour Jo died:

And death shall have no dominion



And death shall have no dominion.
Dead men naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.

Even In Darkness

Even in darkness roses bloom.

He says I enrich his life. He says I am the person he lives for. I will be there for him. As long as he needs me. If it is the only good thing I ever do, I will do this. And I will remember this:

To Have Succeeded

To laugh often and love much:
To win respect of intelligent people
And the affection of children;
To earn the approbation of honest critics
And endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty;
To find the best in others;
To give one's self;
To leave the world a little better,
Whether by a healthy child,
A garden patch,
Or redeemed social condition;
To have played and laughed with enthusiasm
And sung with exultation;
To know even one life has breathed easier
Because you have lived...
This is to have succeeded.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Facing the Inevitable

Nobby is weak, trembling, unsteady on his feet. Yesterday I met a neighbour in the City Centre. A neighbour known as motor mouth because of her penchant for incessant gossiping. 'Nobby's not going to be here much longer. Not now that Freddi's gone,' He had been abandoned by the state, his family and now, even little Freddi. Please don't think I am judging the family because I am not. I am in no position to judge them. I didn't pay a great deal of attention to my own grandparents. Not even while they were dying. But I regret that and I am afraid that Nobby's family will come to feel that way too.

Nobby has grown frailer but he is as strong willed as ever. Not that this resolve has been properly tested (lately). There are no officials lining up outside his door offering him help. In my mind he is a member of an oppressed group that very few people give a toss about - the elderly (or 'pensioners' or 'seniors' - whichever term is en vogue.)

There is only me and I am afraid. 'I don't think I can handle this,' I told my mother on the 'phone. 'I'm not strong enough.'

'Oh, you're strong,' my mother said, 'Not always in the right way but you are strong.'

When I told her about my fears for Nobby's future she said: 'Don't talk like that.'  As if not talking about it will make any difference.

I believe they call what I am feeling 'anticipatory grief'.