Kiss me before you leave.

For there may never be another tomorrow.

Look at me clearly before you go,

                                                     for I may not see you again.

Hold me tightly for even fleetingly,

                                                    I need to dream of other days.

Let me  look at your reflection in the stream of life.

And allow me to hold your smile in my hands.

Then  I may remember your face,

                amongst the raw wounds that fill my mind.

We may not see the future together.

So maybe now is all we have.

Kiss me,

                       before you leave…

Copyright 2012.

Grey and old I think we’d say,

but standing proudly every day.

Through stormy, blowy, violent weather.

Your bricks are shabby your fabric grim

the hanging lamps are often dim.

But you have that smell that brings much peace

of wooden pews – a polished feat.

Knelt by many who do recall the absurdity

of ‘dragons myth’*

The old clock that ticks and loudly tocks!

through silent prayers and heartfelt gospels.

Those watchful eyes that see it all,

as casting sunlight comes shafting

through, ancient mauve- lit leaded lights.

Gothic shaped arches as smoky rays stream

a twinkling of Gods dawning dream.

To cast on brass plaque which honours those men

who fell, in 1914-18 war.
War to end all wars!

Still and quiet on Sunday faces of

those that dream of Heavens places,

Yet unseen…

The heart that beats in this ancient place

of sometimes sorrow or better still,

in wedding grace.

Of joy and love but still much to face…

Your watchful eyes see with secrets safe,

the thoughts of those who ardently pray

within these walls.

Of bonny babes in christening robes and

pretty bones that kneel in rows.

And love, yes love!

For it is love that will echo through eternity…

For all those we pray, those in mind most every day.

The sadness seen, the secrets kept,

as we lay those we love, to sleeping rest.

Within these walls St Margaret sees it all…

With watchful eyes…

Copyright 2012.

*One day a Roman prefect saw the beautiful young Margaret as she was tending sheep, and tried to seduce her. When she refused, the official denounced her as an outlaw Christian, and she was brought to trial. When she refused to sacrifice to the pagan gods, the authorities tried to burn her, and then boil her in a large cauldron; each time her prayers kept her unharmed. She was finally martyred by beheading.
Part of her story involves her meeting the devil in the form of a dragon, being swallowed by the dragon, and then escaping safely when the cross she carried irritated the dragon’s innards; this accounts for this virgin’s association with pregnancy, labour, and childbirth.

The smell of the earth met my nose,

the rich soil crushed beneath my feet,

so different the greens of the gorse, I sighed

as I trod God’s glorious land.

Breathing deeply, the cold air spiking my lungs.

A light mist felt damp against my warm face,

the view majestic from every turn.

I dug deep for energy for I was on top of the world,

for this is what it seemed to me.

The barren trees looked wicked

their prickly swaying arms fighting against the cruel wind.

This place suited my mind, this place suited my soul.

The dry stone walls stood strong but in odd places,

who had built them there?

The sun and the clouds merged as a delicate rainbow presented…

Up in the heavens I found peace.

And you were not far away.

Safely tucked in the pocket next to my heart…

All Rights Reserved 2012.

Captain Michael Morse, at Rescuing Providence,

has had his second book published

and it is now on sale.

I read and loved his first book and will most certainly be purchasing this one, as it looks to be just as good.

Please click the link above and buy the book.

You will so enjoy his real-life tales.

Michael has been most supportive  and a dear friend over the years. His success is so well deserved.

Let me be aware of the treasure you are.

Let me learn from you,

Love you,

Bless you before you depart.

Let me not pass you by in a quest of

some rare and perfect tomorrow.

Let me hold you while I may,

For it may not always be so.

One day I shall dig my nails into the earth

Or bury my face in the pillow.

Or raise my hands to the sky and want,

more than all the world your return.

Red Rose Photo from Susie Hemingway’s Collection.

It was a clear day

Crystal clear

Sparkling light in a cloudless sky

Lines were etched on your familiar face

You said nothing and neither did I

What could be said?

Dark branches stretching against a blue sky

I looked at the trees, bare now and cruel

Nothing will change, how foolish to think it could

It’s too late now…

I traced your face with my fingers

You smiled.

It was a crystal clear day…

All Rights Reserved.

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.

A plethora of colours play a dancing scene in my mind.

Prisms of light and dark are the colours of my life.

Dark shadows of dripping sadness,

bright colours of joy!

Heaping together as a jewelled kaleidoscope,

reflections of coloured glass, turning and varied like the

rotation of life.

The greens and magentas of brilliant aniline dyes

fill the spaces of my memory, delectable,

delightful and pleasant.

Mauves and purples weep and push for space but fail now.

They do not enter, I will not facilitate them.

Calmness drips upon me like a patina on the surface of old bronze.

Peace, in soft cream voile, fills my days.

Life is the colour in my mind, as

sunburst orange vying for space, risible;

forming luscious opulent delicious pictures

of passion and joy.

Burnished gold,  soft cashmere green

bring  new physical energy and vigour.

These are the colours of my life now

mixed with gentle blues of  calmer mellow days

These are the colours of my life…

*The kaleidoscope was invented in the early 1800′s by Sir David Brewster as a form of art. Since the Victorian era people have been enjoying them by collecting large quantities and as a toy for children.

Copyright 2011.

Music drifting in modern sounds

clinking glasses as wine was found,

laughter filled the balmy air

the girls looked pretty sitting there.

Delicious smells in smoky night

candles shimmered in dimming light.

Roasted lamb with chopped mint leaves

sweet green salad with feta cheese.

Crispy chicken with succulent sauce

happy faces but of course!

Barbecuing with such flair.

I almost saw you standing there…

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.

Having just returned from an excellent holiday in Sharm El Sheikh Egypt,  I could not help but compare how different it was from the Egypt I have known over the years.  Modern Sharm which sits at the bottom of the Sinai Peninsula where the stunning dramatic rugged desert meets the crystal clear Red Sea is mighty impressive.  It has an international reputation as an extraordinary diving destination, with clear crystal seas jam packed with amazing delights of the many different species of coral and stunning  fish.

This small fishing village has changed in a few short years to a bustling holiday destination packed with modern hotels all with  the luxuries of modern day living. Diving centres, yacht charters, desert safaris, quad biking, casinos and discos are all there  ready for the tourists delight.

Sharm El Sheikh,  this cosmopolitan capital of Sinai  is heralded  as a city of  peace even in these troubled times.

Our hotel of choice (there are many) was set  in an oasis of peaceful grounds filled with pink, white and deep red bougainvillaea, oleander  cactus and many palms. The gardens well established and beautifully tended by  a dedicated team of gardeners. Such a massive feat in this blazing heat!

Naama Bay is the heart of Sharm and  is a cornucopia of the most amazing energy ever set in one place. Souks and shops selling all manner of things from fake watches to jade beads and spices via together for a little business, the owners pleading for you to spend your time visiting their emporiums.

The tremendous bustle and noise coming from the restaurants, bars, ‘shisha’ cafes, clubs and discos seem a desperate call for contrived enjoyment, somewhat different from the old alleys of Cairo and Alexandria that I know so well. The  town of Naama Bay is  filled with local crafts and tourist souvenirs and it  had to be different. This is a modern place, the first Hotel  in Sharm as new as the 80’s. It could not be the same for me of course as this was also the first time travelling  to Egypt without my ‘Egyptian Pharaoh’.  Stirring such memories of  past joys,  although I often felt his hand in mine and words of his often reached  my ears.  This was a unique and different time. I loved the Old Market of Sharm with its winding streets of the old town. Where I once again practised my haggling skills trying to remember not very successfully, all that Hamada had taught me of this unique skill much loved  by the traders. Both my sons doing so much better at this than me. I loved the carpets laid ready for the serving of mint tea in  traditional manner, the Bedouin coffee shops all such a reminder of days gone by with my love.

I adored the luxury of our hotel set in the most beautiful green and flowering gardens with six wonderful swimming pools to choose from. Indeed it was as hot as hell! August certainly not a time to take small children I feel, but the luxury suites, efficient air conditioning, hour long massages, ice cold cloths to cool us at midday and great food for even the most discerning palate made up for that.

I loved the luxury of the Sinai Casino now the biggest casino in the  whole of the Middle East which again reminded me of exciting times spent in Cairo with Hamada. This time spending such a fun time with my two sons playing roulette for the first time and  all of us sensibly coming away with winnings.

The amazing sun and heat of everyday. The outstanding sunsets over the Sinai mountains, that fall amongst the most breath taking foreground I have ever seen.

I loved as always the smell and taste of this unique land, the sepia colour of night fall and the gentle smiling people of this beautiful part of the world and although a very different Egypt from Cairo or Alexandria to me. It was still an ultimate experience with my wonderful family who were just the very best travelling companions and made my holiday quite perfect with their loving care. Yes for sure, it was for me, a sensual memory of my beloved Hamada and a time I will always remember.

Withdraw and surrender

or restore and live?

Painfully utter or sing joyously aloud.

Or impair fatally to ruin

all that comes to you.

The choice is yours.

Enhance the beauty of your life like a twilight cirrus streaked sky.

Illuminate your life in daily joys.

For joys there are!

Live an anguished life in mask of grief?

Or find solace in this diorama of

changing colour and direction.

Sink or swim?

Renounce, abandon,

or repair and mend?

The choice is yours.

Enter that empty void of senselessness?

Or find that certain solace.

Swim to the top, swim to the top,

do not succumb to misery.

Lift yourself from daily pain.

Fight against this hanging pendent of rage

you wear so well.

Leave behind that ache

as heavy as a dying  bloom.

Live your life…

And find that certain solace.

Poem inspired  by a comment from Lileng.

Photo courtesy of Ellie Robson.

Copyright 2011 Susie Hemingway.

.

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.