Category — In Death

This week I received two very lovely comments regarding my poems, both in the same vein informing me how much folk enjoy them and how they helped them when grieving or in pain. Yes of course I receive daily comments, it would be unusual if you wrote a blog and never heard from anyone but sometimes the wording of these comments propel you forward to keep trying to perfect the one perfect verse. I am supremely pleased when anyone leaves a comment, just to imagine someone  taking time from their busy schedule to bother to email me saying how much they enjoyed my words, a phrase, or a particular poem delights me. Sometimes they may refer to my words having helped or brought healing tears at a point in the lives when sadness was choking or blocking their emotions. That upon reading the simple phrases written here, they say it was enough to know someone understood their own pain and could perhaps share it with them. Being sad or worried is a lonely road and often one you cannot continually share with your personal friends or family. Grief affects us all at some time in our lives and to different degrees  but I yearn to understand how some of us survive while others do not.

Unless you have been or are a Carer, it is often difficult to understand the daily stress of following harsh schedules and the responsibilities for another person’s life. So often this comes upon you suddenly and it is difficult to absorb all that appears before you. If you have no nursing experience you are confronted with serious decisions to help your partner to make regarding the right path to take with medical matters plus the emotional side too; often with no outlet for your own feelings, which hover near the surface daily. My choice was to write down my daily feelings and in my simple words I found a voice that started privately but ended up world-wide! I will try to continue with my ‘poems of love’ after reading these two rather special comments this week asking me to do so.  Blessings and thanks dear friends.

On another little subject that seems to be most difficult at this time of the year for the newly bereaved is the putting- up of Christmas decorations. Often these have great sentimental memories attached to them and are often collected together over the years if you have been together for a long time. I have talked of this recently with dear friends on-line and through social networks. Folk who are struggling even to get a few pieces out of boxes for the festive season. Me too I’m afraid. Really I feel it depends whether you have grandchildren visiting or not. Last year when very newly bereaved I made a huge effort to do all the ‘normal things’ especially for my Grandson and family. I found it most difficult but he had lost his beloved Grandpa only the month before and I wanted all to be as it was in previous years when he visited. As if it could possibly be but I am sure you understand. I wanted him to think nothing else had changed too much. My feelings if you live alone now, that perhaps changing things a little can help. It’s painful when so much is going on around you, Christmas displays and festive music in all the shops makes it difficult to function without sadness as it is. So instead of having your normal decorations, perhaps having a small arrangement of twinkling branches maybe flowers instead of the tradition tree if that is what you used to share with your special person. Change things a little. Perhaps a decorated photo of your loved one with gorgeous scented candles that can be lit when the mood feels right for you, would be better for your heart.

When Hamada was very ill he would love to look at the Christmas lights even more than before when he was busy, he would watch as I decorated the tree with little suggestions here and there.  The following poem written in 2008 tells about that and is shown below. Have a joyous Christmas my dear friends with all your good memories, as precious as the love you will always have for your special person.

In Christmas Lights.

Sharp and crisp as snowy nights

crystal clear in prism lights,

gentle orbs that sparkle bright

shining are your eyes tonight.

Reflected jewels of liquid amber

like dripping rich fondant creams,

chocolate in the deepest hue,

I bow my head to look at you

Eyes that hold this strangeness well

in candlelight they watch and drink

forgotten words, much time to think.

A bitter pill that’s hard for you,

as fairy lights come into view,

white and gold’s, red and greens,

you simply watch in reverent scene,

reflections in those honest eyes

of baubles and of Christmas time.

In Christmas lights my poems for you

expressed in love, a poignant view…

All Rights Reserved: 2008

I felt it appropriate on this first anniversary to post again two poems written around this time last year. The first, the simple poem “This Rollercoaster Life” was written when I knew and needed to accept that there was no more that could be done for Hamada or rather that there was no more medical intervention that our dearest Hamada could possibly have managed or that he wanted done. Although we still kept hope alive really apart from the love and tender care I could possibly achieve during his final days, I knew I had to accept that this was the time to stop fighting to keep him with us and pass on my care to the Almighty.  The second poem was written shortly after losing  Hamada and deals with the acute and painful feelings of this time. Letting go with dignity is hard when all you want to do is scream aloud with the painful sadness you feel. I have made it through this first year with much help from my dear family, very close friends and my MM friends worldwide. I thank them from the bottom of my heart for their love and patience but mostly I chose to grieve in private, apart from a few rants on here or when hearing a favourite song or piece of music that we both loved, caught me unaware. I may place a smile on my face everyday but my heart tells a different story.This man was much to miss! 

“Hamada’s story” is still and will remain on http://www.susiehemingway.blogspot.com  It is in reverse order for the new friends who I know come here from other sites to  read about MM, ending with his final days and covering more than four years. All aspects of emotion in the form of poems and many entries on caring and loving someone deeply as we both came to terms with the disease that is Multiple Myeloma.

Today and always I salute this special man: “I miss you dearest one as the sun comes up everyday and the moon appears at night, and as private as my tears fall, I miss you with every breath I take”

“This Rollercoaster Life” – 24 October 2010.

As swooping as the Rollercoaster

my heart hangs in fearful suspended news

that fills these ‘purple days’.

Days that bring shattered dreams,

only the strongest mind can hold.

My laughter becomes an echo that teeters on the edge

as I snap and break at disclosures strewn around.

My heart bleeds to dissolve this anger

which knows no bounds and as unruly as my mind.

Soaring high into this shimmering mosaic sky,

I hang on like a child that screams into the wind,

as these punishing swoops, turn into views as

fragile and as consuming as this Rollercoaster life.

All Rights Reserved:  October 2010.

“Let Me Not”  – 2 December 2010.

Let me not falter dear Lord.

Let me not fall at this final hurdle.

Guide me now to complete this task.

Let me not plaintively wail and scream as my heart doth now.

Allow me to show dignity that he always showed.

Let me not stand beneath the stars and scream his name aloud.

Let me remember this day, as we honour him.

Grant me the courage that he always showed.

Let me not go down on my bended knees and shout at the sky,

And implore you to return him to me.

Let me not fall at this final hurdle.

Give me the strength Oh Lord not to fail,

with this final task…

All Rights Reserved: November 2010

"Poetry is the opening and closing of a door,
leaving those who look through to guess about
what is seen during a moment" Carl Sandburg

God Bless Hamada.

As this month embraces Autumn I recall the September of last year  and the wretched struggles of that time. I suppose in retrospect this backward view, this sorrowful indulgence, is something that those bereaved need to do. A kind of  summing up as you approach  the first anniversary without your special person. It is not maudlin or mawkishly sentimental, far from it. It is for me necessary for shall we say, the organization of the mind.

In the early months of loss, when so numb the years of caring seemed like a bad dream. I could not breathe without pain through the sorrow and  I would have turned back the pages of the book to have him back with me in an instant. Of course never to see again  the horrors of this disease or  the damage it inflicted on this gentle wise  man or for him to suffer on and on but just to hear his voice calling my name or to see his eyes light up when I entered his room.

I was not the only one amongst our friends to suffer loss that year. MM took many of our newly made friends in 2010.  Friends made at the hospital, diagnosed at the same time and internet friends made out of a need to follow together as Carers. We used our common knowledge, clung together in an effort to help, support and glean information fr0m each other when we could. We became a strong body and positive in our efforts to champion, protect and help.

For the first few months of MM although I clearly knew the facts but because of our strong love, I believed we could beat this disease and although I saw and knew well the terrible changes overcoming Hamada, I continued with hope until the end.It goes without saying that this period of my life, the immense shock at diagnosis, the daily struggles, doing my best to help was and has  been without doubt  the most difficult period of my life but we made it to the end with peace and dignity and you will too my dear friends, the many of you who are still fighting for your love ones. Obtaining the best care you can for them and guiding them daily, to achieve a good quality of life from this a most difficult disease and the saddest period of your life.

Together  with love and tenderness these days become supremely special and will stay eternally in your memory.  It’s really all we ever want is it not, to be loved and well cared for in our final hours.

As Hamada’s first anniversary approaches, I have decided not to write here again about his ‘journey’ unless asked for advice or information regarding caring with Multiple Myeloma. I hope to move on to other subjects  but I will of course follow my friends blogs, checking in on them from time to time to see how they are doing.

I think my dear one should be allowed to rest in peace now. My intentions are to take time to get on with the years left to me. To enjoy each God given day to the best of my ability and to embrace new joys that have presented themselves. It would after all be just what Hamada would have wanted.

*“There comes a time to remind yourself of your reasons for living. You have a future worth enduring and you deserve to find a renewed sense of purpose and pleasure in your life”

*From Grief Therapy by Karen Katafiasz.

In this peaceful part of the world my beloved lies amongst friends. Under the twinkling night stars of this beautiful small village and during the day nestled in this tranquil setting and in the sight of God is his final resting place. It is right and fitting. Amen.

* The Ankh cross also known as crux anasta  is the ancient Egyptian hieroglyph meaning life. The loop part having neither beginning nor end, so representing the eternal soul.

* See ‘A Difficult Task’ shown below.

What will it say in years to come? What will it tell the folks who pass by and glance, reading the words I’ve chosen. How I wanted to tell a story on this tablet of stone. How I wanted to place so many words. Words that would have filled this oblong of granite. Something much more, about the special man who rests here.

The rules are strict for the Diocese of Lincoln: Monuments should be of natural stone (with no reflecting finish) and a list of recommended stones is given to help with choice. The stone must not be polished, nor finished in any way to give the effect of polished stone. I agree with all this, keeping the beauty of this peaceful resting place is so important and garish shiny headstones would look out of keeping, here amongst the grey.

Inscriptions should be simple, reverent and with an appropriate epitaph but how difficult in a few words, when I wanted to say so much about the wise, kind and caring man who lies here.

I could have added angels to keep you company, or lilies in ornate decorative splendour carved across the stone. I could have added copious words in gilt, flowery sentiments of love. I wanted to say so much. For in my heart I desired the biggest and the most elaborate memorial stone of them all. A pharaohs tomb. For in my world you were the very best of them all.

Instead I knew you would not have liked that. For you were most humble, for you were too elegant for showy symbols. You would have wished to mingle unnoticed amongst the others, although you never went unnoticed.

Just a simple plain stone you said, like most of the others in this quiet lovely place of rest. Just my name you said, I will be proud to rest here you told me.

Keep it simple, keep it simple echoed in my ears but my heart wanted so much more, as I stood before the selection of traditional stones. Let it be elegant for this most elegant of men.

I made my choice, only once biting the inside of my mouth to stem the tears as I realized this would be the last task I would perform for dear Hamada.

So we shall see in early September when we stand together once again to honour this beloved man. I believe I’ve chosen the simple words well. Hamada would be pleased.

It is right and fitting.

Breathe in breathe out shattered heart.

Lay waste to no one,

find your way.

Do not shelter in that room.

Do not shiver, when those feelings loom.

Shine for him, shine for him…

Breathe in breathe out shattered heart.

Ignore those salty tears

that fall uninvited.

Find your way from pining.

Climb from deep despair.

Come,

shine for him.

Do not shudder heart but

dance and sing!

Push back that island of loneliness

Accept,

survive.

Accept

and survive.

All Rights Reserved 2011

I long again to hear that voice,

those cultured tones of dusky nights,

of “21 club” words whispered low

in shining gleaming bar of old.

When smiles mixed as glasses clink,

murmured soft and almost heard,

those sweet and soothing dulcet tones

of  love and you.

The air was filled with mixing scents

of girl’s falsetto voices shrill, who masquerade

their dramatic wears, expensive perfumes

and fancy hair.

I leaned to hear that velvet sound, from sweet

breath of love, disturbing senses found.

That time and you…

The Handsome men with eyes that glittered

tanned in Armani, shirts of fine linen.

Their Rolex vying and hanging loose

as popping corks and bitter vermouth,

in smoky music fun filled air.

The thrill…the pace…

that time in Harry Meadow’s place!

We danced as morning light appeared

your words enticing and with much care

I remember every word you said,

those sweet and soothing dulcet tones

Of love and you… Longings…

Longings: – from the ‘box of secrets’ @ seven months.

The handsome face with the special smile.

All Rights Reserved:

Taking little steps and turning the pages of a new life is often difficult. A life that will be so different for you without the one you love. As I knew long before Hamada died, that he would not survive MM. We discussed a plan that would help sustain me through this bereaved time. Taking a little holiday as soon as I felt well enough to do so was something Hamada in his wisdom had suggested. I have always wanted to travel more, there are so many places yet to see and certainly not so many years as there once was to do this in! I would make a gentle start with a small trip as part of my healing process. We never dwelled on him dying but often mentioned little things that I remember now that were  all said to help me. Now at his six month anniversary I have achieved my first trip away and how very lovely it was too.

I selected something easy and not far away, Denia in Spain.  A place I had first visited back in 1968. When as a young woman I had stayed as a guest in a beautiful villa “Mar-Jon” close to the base of Mount Montgo, the mountain that sits as a watchful eye over this pretty seaside town.

Now of course packed to the gills with villas in every available space but still just as charming. I loved it then and always thought I would  return one day. Selecting a good hotel safe for single travellers with all the comforts of home was fun to do. Marvellous food, loads of good fish and delicious vegetables and desserts and with people my age and older, all looking for a genteel time, of course with fun and laughter but aimed at comfort and ease. It was delightful to listen to stirring new conversations and make new friends among the well travelled there. I was surprised to know that some had been returning to this part of Spain for many years, singles and couples all very happy with the clean and efficiently run hotel with its excellent bar and enjoyable evening music. An attractive place to unwind after a good dinner and a  day of walking and swimming.

Denia in Spain is still a lovely town retaining much of its authentic Spanish charm. The picturesque marina that I remembered as a small place back in the 60’s, is set beneath the pretty old Castle; it had stayed long in my memory. Now a fabulous place full of luxury yachts of opulence, marvellous paved walk-ways and wonderful cafes and tapas bars with upstairs terraces for fabulous views of the bay. I spent most of my days walking in the warm sunshine, admiring the sleek ‘sun seekers’ and the huge ‘gin palaces’ shining and pristine with gleaming chrome, their smooth lines of design resting gently upon the bright blue of the Mediterranean sea and so ready for the ocean.

I stopped each morning for marvellous Americano coffees to take in the beautiful views, then walked some more in the warmth of the Mediterranean sunshine. My shoulders  relaxed as I drunk in the beautiful vistas and for the first time in many months not – and I know this sounds so selfish – having to worry about pushing a wheelchair or almost carrying my dear Hamada. I could have walked there forever with the gentle sun warming my soul.

A weekly market in Denia was a bustling delight, reminding me in some ways of the colourful souks of the middle east I purchased from a grand selection, two rather nice sun-suits for further holidays. The sweet Spanish lady insisting I tried them on over my t-shirt!  Still she was right they fitted perfectly and would have still been cheap at twice the price. Bright and gaudy stalls covering a large area sold all manner of things and certainly worth time spent there. The level walk to the town centre along pretty streets with the red white and pink of the bougainvillea covering pretty courtyards in perfect weather was a delight.

Slowly I could feel the stress and strains of the past five years release from my body. I thought of  Hamada often, as I embraced Denia and of my new life as a single person now. Enjoying this pretty mostly unspoilt town that has retained much of  its Spanish charm with many places to stop for a cooling drink or little tapas. I enjoyed the best deep fried calamari’s (squid) I have ever tasted!

Sitting under the vine leaves of a centre cafe complete with fountain and pretty shops to view. I thought back on the struggles of  many months past, knowing that I had done my best in everyway for my precious man and that he would have been so happy for me as I embraced a new life. There will be many sad times for me of that I am sure. For indeed he was my soul-mate but I am taking little steps and turning the pages slowly of this ‘new’ life…  I am a strong woman and I have “The Power Within” to survive  -Blessings  dear friends.

It seems forever since I looked into those eyes,  yet the memory of your face is as clear as the picture below. How can six months have past without you by my side? Sleep well beloved.

I see you in my dreams and know you dream of me,  just as you always promised – from the ‘box of secrets’

Sleep well beloved…

Six Months Anniversary.

I seem to wait for you these days,

like longing for the sun to rise after a sleepless night.

When believing that the bright morning rays

that cast shadows across my floor,

will remove this need from my heart.

And still I wait.

I wait for you like the excited child before a birthday.

Eager and keen for the day to start

when all the surprises and fun will begin.

But you never come to bring these joys to me!

I know you can’t…I know you would… I know…

I’m still waiting for you when I look at the night sky

filled with twinkling jewels.

I look again for you as I enter the house alone.

I’m waiting to see those laughing eyes, black as coal-chips

and the smile that always took my breath away.

I’m waiting…

The tears fall as I write this and you would have been

so  mad,

mad with me for being sad – but I’m waiting to hear your

luscious voice once more.

I seem to wait a lot these days.

I know you can’t make it right.

I know you can’t…I know you would…I know…

All Rights Reserved. 2011.

Every week or so I take a little pot plant to Hamada’s grave to garnish in a small way the resting place of my beloved. I will continue this until his memorial stone is in place. We still have time to wait for that, as it is important that the ground settles and becomes flat once more. I have been thinking about appropriate words and style, what a decision this will be for me. I know my close family will help me with this when the time comes. Hamada was buried when the snow was deep on the ground and this winter was one of the harshest in living memory, so the ground until recently has been solid and unyielding. As Hamada is buried within walking distance of my home I can visit whenever I choose.  I always choose to pass by his grave on my walks. I bend and pat the ground where he lays and then as an elderly gentleman told me to do, look up at the sky for a moment or two.  This I have found is comforting to me as I listen to the noisy calls of the rooks, high up in their huge bowls of twiggy nests. The birds cannot spoil this high place of rest with it’s spring bulbs  and tranquil setting.

I think often as I walk, of the lovely words from “The Autumn of Love” by Khalil Gibran, which give me peace and today I leave here  for my friends just a small extract for your pleasure.

“The sorrow of love sings.

The sorrow of knowledge speaks.

The sorrow of desire whispers.

And the sorrow of poverty weeps.

But there exists a sorrow deeper

than love, more noble than knowledge,

stronger than desire, and more bitter

than poverty.

This sorrow has no voice, it is dumb,

but its eyes glitter like the stars.

Khalil Gibran – From Love Letters in the Sand.

Hamada’s Tree in Rhode Island

“Hamada’s  Special Ray Of Light” here in the Village.

When I first started writing my “Poems of Love”  for Hamada I was amazed at the many who also seem to enjoy them and understood my reason for keeping a diary of these difficult days. One of the very first comments I ever received was from a wonderful gentleman Lt (now Captain) Michael Morse of Providence, Rhode Island.  Michael  as an Emergency Medical Technician in Providence, works in a team of very brave men and woman all willingly risking there lives every day, to help and save the community of Providence, dealing with drug overdoses, gunshot wounds, suicides and all manner of  medical emergencies that are all in a days work for them. These are extremely brave and courageous people working continuously in often very difficult conditions.

Five years ago in the early hours of  the morning, Michael was surfing the net and came across my little blog written here in this tiny village in the UK. During a quiet moment and a lull in calls he settled down to  read some of my poems. They seem to appeal to him, he wrote  on his blog and I quote:

“Susie’s poems hit home in so many ways. Heroes are all around us, fighting life and death battles, facing the fear of uncertainty yet still able to inspire others during the darkest days of their lives. People previously unknown to me and living on another continent are fighting with amazing grace, dignity and courage” and so this started the many comments and sincere praise that he often sent my way. He pointed out that he has never been very interested in poetry but mine tugged at his heart and he found himself becoming more interested in the story behind them.

Michael is a most compassionate man – he would not be doing the job he does tirelessly every day  if this was not so. He is a wonderful writer, logging as he does the daily problems and trials and tribulations of the work he does as a EMS/Fire-fighter on his wonderful blog www.rescuingprovidence.com    Michael’s comments encouraged me to continue writing the updates and poems that made Hamada’s Blog “A Power Within” http://www.susiehemingway.blogspot.com  the success it became.

So Michael followed Hamada’s blog and online through his comments, Michael and Hamada became good friends, a connection you could say.  Michael’s  very popular book “Rescuing Providence” was sent, read and enjoyed very much by Hamada. I would pass-on all the comments Michael wrote under my poems – somehow, someway, Michael gave Hamada more courage.

Continuing another extract shown here from Michaels blog, explains well this connection:

“One night, as I sat at my desk in a little office in a  fire station in a small city in the US, I opened my window to the world known as the Internet, and moved the little mouse over something called “Verve Earth”, and randomly zig-zagged  across the map of the world, wondering where I might stop. When I was a kid I used to go to the  globe, which for those who never saw one is a three dimensional orb which replicates Planet Earth, mounted on a holder of sorts that allows the earth to spin. I’d give it a good push, and lightly place my finger on the surface as it spun, and wherever it stopped, that’s  where I decided I would go. This night, it stopped in England, “in a beautiful village nestling by the river Bain in the heart of the Lincolnshire Wolds.”  There, I was introduced to Susie and Hamada, a happily married couple, living gracefully through the curse of Multiple Myeloma.  Through Susie’s poems I was allowed entry into the most astonishing love story ever written. The simple complexity of her words, full of pain but able to articulate enduring hope travelled an ocean, and opened a part of my heart that had been closed since 1990, when my father battled cancer and lost. The profound sadness I felt when I heard the news that Hamada had died literally crippled me. I never spoke to Hamada, nor heard him speak. I only knew him through the words his wife used to describe their life together, and his courage and dignity during his last few years. Yet I knew him. And I’m a better person because of it. I imagine Hamada will be laid to rest, “in this beautiful village nestling by the river Bain in the heart of the Lincolnshire Wolds.”  I imagine his friends and family will join the solemn occasion, and pay their respects, and mourn his loss. But here in my little place, back in my little office, watching the world through my window the sadness I felt has been replaced, and in its place something greater and timeless resides, and I have Susie and Hamada to thank, for without them, I would not have experienced “The Power Within”

Michael of the Giant Heart read my poems and never fail to send a comment or a good wish our way and as you have read, very saddened when Hamada’s journey came to an end. Now to the special  story of  “The Tree and The Hawk”

On the day we laid Hamada to rest  in this little country village in Middle England– this freezing cold Winters day when the ground was thick with snow and ice – and many had come to pay their respects to our  beloved warrior, at  approximately the same time on the other side of the  world, a very kind  and compassionate man was taking his regular walk  and passing a large old tree near to his home he watched a huge hawk flitting above him in the branches. As he approached this tree, the hawk suddenly stayed very still and appeared to look down at him. The hawk stayed this way for sometime, causing the man beneath to feel something most spiritual.  This man was Michael who was so move by this experience he felt the need to say his own goodbyes to Hamada.

Then once again on another day as Michael walked his usual route, at the very same spot he had said  goodbye to Hamada  he looked up, and the giant hawk again landed on a branch about thirty feet above him, in this old  tree. A flock of mockingbirds descended upon him, dive bombing and pestering him, but the bird refuse to move ( much like Hamada with his courage) and just sat there, and again  they looked at each other for nearly five minutes, again the spiritual feeling.

How I love this,another connection made. Hawks remind me of the wonderful Falcons of the desert and Hamada loved to watch them when we lived in the United Arab Emirates. Yes, a hawk is most suitable for my Hamada who just  may have been paying his respects to this kind and compassionate man who befriended him  during the many months of  his courageous fight with the wretched illness that is Multiple Myeloma. Two good men making a connection through this modern world of ours. Miles apart, never having met, never having spoken, but a connection for sure.   Thanks Mike.

All Rights Reserved: 2011

“Ray of Light Photo” Courtesy of Janey Johnson Photos.

Like all the days before.

And all the days that come.

I am thinking of you.

Where are those dark eyes of my pleasure?

The warm gentle smile, our kisses.

I can hear you, I can smell you.

I have so much to tell you.

The clearest visions in my mind,

are of your beautiful hands.

Shuffling the cards or counters of “tawlah”

I miss our games! I miss so much

your calm movements, your voice,

your love…

I feel your presence but cannot find you.

The world is going crazy, do you know of that?

I wonder what you would  have said?

I know you would be proud of me.

You always were.

Everyone says I’m doing well.

Doing all you told me to do.

Perhaps I need more practice

I always needed more practice!

Remember? (smile)

I don’t need to shut my eyes to see you.

Your presence is always here.

In that place I carry around with me.

Do you know its almost three months

I’m thinking of you today

Like every day.

                                      I’m thinking of you…

All Rights Reserved.