New paintings and regular art updates.
You birthday was today
But there is no voice
No laughter
No sudden shout
Of annoyance or glee.
You were here, then gone
Lost in space
Not forgotten by me
But gone from the world
We always held hands
Grasping our dreams
Let’s go out
Take a trip?
Now I stay still
Remembering but not visiting
Still waiting
For your non return.
You hold my heart in your hands.
Squeeze a little and my heart burns.
Squeeze a lot? Somersaults.
The thumping steadies.
I need blood pressure medication.
Once many years ago we met.
First sight love?
No, it took a while.
No dancing bliss.
I almost gave you a miss.
My first kiss? Shy.
Then you were my guy.
But once it started.
Love and happiness grew.
Blossomed in Spring.
Flowered in summer.
Was gentle in autumn.
But flew away and was lost in winter.
Now love and greif mix.
I can imagine no one else.
But you.
It doesn’t look like much but I can see the floor. It means that the people taking some furniture out for me will be able to get through.
It’s taken me a year of grief to get to this point. I have had to get rid of things I might have wanted to keep. To say “goodbye” to things that have sat in the same place for years. The “that will come in handy” stuff, the “oh don’t throw that away, I’ll have it”, stuff.
I have also uncovered a large patch of damp under one of my windows, I will have to be responsible and get it patched up. Time, maybe, to stop ignoring things?
Lucky to get my painting “mend him” into the Brampton open exhibition in the Brampton museum and art gallery, in Newcastle under Lyme. Staffordshire. It’s on from 14th October I think. The painting is a portrait of my hubby I started last year and finally finished a couple of months after he passed away. I miss him. This is my in memoriam tribute to him.
I had decided to enter it as “not for sale” but the gallery wanted all images to be up for sale so I put a large (very large) price on it to virtually guarantee it won’t be sold. It’s very personal to me, but I wanted people to see it.
It’s acrylic on canvas and I started it in my Studio in Spode Site, Stoke. I finished painting it there after I decided to leave due to not being able to afford the studio rent any longer. It means this is the last painting I completed there.
My phone is full of photos and every so often I optimise them because the file sizes are too big. But that always mixes the dates up, and this time many photos of my hubby showed up out of the thousands of images I have.
Cue deep greif again. My man was funny, eccentric, bombastic, able to express himself. He was emotional and sometimes irrational. But he supported me and we loved each other. He had a mad sense of humour and although he could get angry about things that was more about incidents in his life that had caused him to suffer from PTSD.
Each time I see his face I remember and I am upset again. Decades of life together has made our link so strong. I wish I could have him back, not just photos, but the reality.
Where did you go?
I have invisible memories of you
I notice at night
It’s as if you are next to me
Silently I listen for you
But only hear the cat, snoring quietly
I do feel watched over
After more than 40 years
Gone in an instant
I would love to have you back
If it would mend my broken heart.
It didn’t happen
No rose
No wine
No sweet kiss
Just your presence
Missed.
By my side
Part of me
Has ripped away
Torn my heart
In half
Lub dub, Lub dub
It’s still pumping
Just.
I woke at 5.30am, unable to sleep, I was enveloped in waves of heat and cold from the covid virus. I couldn’t decide whether to snuggle under the duvet or throw it off. I lay listening to the news on the radio.
Just after 8am I came downstairs. I took my medication and prepared to light a candle for my hubby. Today was the day he would be cremated but circumstances meant I could not go to a funeral. Life isn’t always fair. Many friends and family had promised to light candles for him too and I spent an hour in calm and quiet peace thinking about my loss and contacting people who had left messages and thoughts on social media. What a strange way of doing things these days.
After breakfast I wondered if I should take another covid test, but decided I will wait till tomorrow to see. What would be the point of just confirming I was still ill. I continued to get messages and contacted friends and family.
I’ve cried and cried today. Little things like stories of people going through similar circumstances touched my heart. A film which was one of my hubbys favourites was on the TV. ‘The railway children’ is a sweet film and when it reached the end I started crying all over again.
Sleeping has helped this afternoon. I decided to ignore the fuel bills and have the heating on today. I was so tired at one point that my sandwich I’d made for tea slid off the plate and spilt all over the floor. I was not happy with myself.
I know these posts are not nice. I guess I’m just trying to document how I feel. If I explain perhaps it could help someone else? I don’t know.
What’s the matter now? Became a response when my hubby couldn’t hear me properly. He was always having problems with his hearing aids. They made his ears sore. Or if he got his hair trapped they would whistle.
What’s the matter now? Was almost a catchphrase. I dreaded it, it meant he was irritated by me, or something was getting on his nerves.
Decades of living with someone, and you don’t know what will happen. Can you know someone well enough to be able to solve all their problems? Not in a normal life. It’s not all romance, it’s trying to give and take, accept difficulties. Putting doubts out of your mind. The marriage service has it right. The balance between sickness and health. Riches and poverty. Somehow you rub along.
I will be guilty for a long time for feeling I should have done more. To make everything OK? Not a chance, but I can wish. For now I will try and remember the ‘what’s the matter now?’ moments and try to accept that was part of our life too. If there is something after life I hope he forgives me. I don’t know what else to ask for of him. Processing grief is horrible but it has to be done.
Mallaband-Brown