Arch said:Yes, I lost my boyfriend just under two years ago, and I still miss him, although since he features in so many of my anecdotes, he's almost still here. I don't go a day without either starting a sentence "Tom and I...." or at least thinking about something we did.
Would have been his birthday on Friday, and yesterday I was down at the bike recycling project and there was the bedstead tall bike he built, hanging on the wall, and I was discussing options for the Dawes Galaxy frame they just had powdercoated for me, which he pursuaded me to buy at a Uni bike auction all those years ago and which we rebuilt together. He'll never quite go away.
Arch said:This one does it for me, author unknown. In the cold light of day I'd probably find most of it a bit mawkish, but it's the first and last couplets really...
“Do Not Stand at my Grave and Weep”
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the mornings hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight,
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die. "
Oh dear. Welling up again.
If any of you get a chance, look at Micheal Rosens 'Sad Book'. I heard about this on Radio 4's Go For It, when they did a fantastic show all about bereavement, with kids who'd lost someone. Extremely sensitive, one of the best bits of radio I've ever heard. Micheal Rosen was on talking about losing his son and how he'd written this book. It's illustrated by Quentin Blake, and so perfectly captures the feeling of loss and sadness, but coupled with happy memories.
Arch said:I was amazed that I could speak at my BF's funeral. It helped that I'd written a positive eulogy, so it was mostly upbeat, or as upbeat as it could be. Also, I've done so much towards organising the order of service, and music and so on, that it had become like an academic exercise.
And, bizarrely, there were things even on that day, that made us laugh. Wicker coffins creak when carried. 'Blackbird' by the Beatles has a pause in the middle that makes the next speaker think it's time, so he stands up, and then has to sit down again. Any decent number of cyclists will reduce a buffet to crumbs in a hour or so. All things he would have laughed at.
The hardest thing is seeing a special bike, or a cool car, or something on the news and thinking "oh, I must tell... oh."
Blackandblue said:I feel bad for writing this. Like I have hijacked the thread. But after I started I couldn't stop.
Blackandblue said:I feel bad for writing this. Like I have hijacked the thread. But after I started I couldn't stop.
Blackandblue said:I have been moved to tears by reading this thread.
When I was at school two of my friends committed suicide. They were not friends themselves and the suicides occurred on separate occasions. I had no idea either was so low that they would do that.
I have known others who have died - not particularly close friends but it's still odd not seeing them where you expect to see them.
I am also now of an age where my elders (uncles, parents of friends, that sort of thing) are starting to pass away. Some are taken by cancer and can go quite suddenly and fairly painfully and that is hard.
But what I find most difficult to prepare myself for is my daughter. She is severely disabled. When she was born we were told she wouldn't make it beyond childhood. She is currently 9 and every day is a blessing. I try to enjoy our time with her but I feel haunted by the prospect of her passing.
We have come to know other families with children in similar positions and some of them have since passed. I haven't been able to bring myself to keep in touch with them so I haven't spoken with anyone who has been through it. My wife and I speak about it rarely and I am able to keep a stiff upper lip. I imagine I am being strong for both of us. But in private moments I am a wreck. Certain songs trigger strong emotions in me about it. This is as open as I have ever been about it. I am fighting back tears as I write.
I feel bad for writing this. Like I have hijacked the thread. But after I started I couldn't stop.
Blackandblue said:This is as open as I have ever been about it. I am fighting back tears as I write.
I feel bad for writing this. Like I have hijacked the thread. But after I started I couldn't stop.
Crackle said:I wish I had some wise words for you but I fear they would not be wise enough. Don't feel bad for writing that, in fact writing it down is an excellent way to deal with it. There was an article I read yesterday which may well be relevant to you and to all of us http://www.guardian.co.uk/science/2009/feb/15/psychology-usa
Before my friend died, a few of us met in a pub and were talking about him after it had become clear to us that he was not going to make it. The sight of grown men weeping in a public house is not something you are likely to see often. It was a release we all needed.
Talk, write, whatever, you need that release too.
Arch said:This one does it for me, author unknown. In the cold light of day I'd probably find most of it a bit mawkish, but it's the first and last couplets really...
“Do Not Stand at my Grave and Weep”
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the mornings hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight,
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die. "
Oh dear. Welling up again.
If any of you get a chance, look at Micheal Rosens 'Sad Book'. I heard about this on Radio 4's Go For It, when they did a fantastic show all about bereavement, with kids who'd lost someone. Extremely sensitive, one of the best bits of radio I've ever heard. Micheal Rosen was on talking about losing his son and how he'd written this book. It's illustrated by Quentin Blake, and so perfectly captures the feeling of loss and sadness, but coupled with happy memories.