Tag: Loss

Brampton Open Exhibition

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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.

This doesn’t happen…

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Describe your ideal week.

My ideal week would be to go out to a studio, paint for a few hours, make good progress on a painting. Go to choir practice. Cook tea for me and my hubby. Sit and chat about our days.

My ideal week would include going for a walk with him, he might go for a cycle ride to see a friend. He goes to bed early, I stay up late to read or watch TV.

In my ideal week I would sleep well, wake refreshed. Go for a drive somewhere with my hubby. Visit a national trust property.

In my ideal week I would try and paint some more, take some photos, go on the Internet.

In my ideal week I would still have my hubby, I would still have my studio, I would still be doing art or at least more than I am now. I’m just struggling to get back to something like an ideal week.

Hedge gone!

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I came home from a nice afternoon singing with a choir to find the hedge behind my neighbours back garden has gone. It’s because one of the houses have been sold and they need access. It’s a shame because the house sparrows used to nest in there. I feel like I’m under threat in all directions! The hedge on the other side of the house has been cut right back which was when we were burgled. It’s all men chopping the plants down. Tidy and lifeless. They will put some gravel down! Meanwhile my garden will survive somehow!

Almost bedtime

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The nights are getting longer

The days slightly shorter

It’s almost bedtime

But I’m hot

My heart aches, my mind too

So I’ll sit and watch TV a bit

No sensible thoughts in my mind

Just watching the nights decline

Into a slow dawn.

Maybe the sun will shine bright

In the morning after this night.

I don’t know

Time goes slow

When you’re alone

With the pain of loss.

Trapped in a top!

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I’ve worn this top for years, in fact I was a lot larger when I first got it. But I like it and it’s served me well. But I’ve noticed lately that because of a frozen shoulder and golfers elbow in the same arm I was struggling to bend my arm enough to take off my top.

Tonight was worse. I tried and tried but it wouldn’t budge from my arm. My elbow would not bend and I felt like I was strangling myself. It called for drastic action. Luckily I have a strong pair of scissors. So starting at the wrist I cut up the sleeve. Gradually releasing the pressure. It was particularly difficult as I reached the neck. I was trying not to cut myself! Eventually I was free, but my old cotton top is now in the bin!

Allez! Allez!

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Last year I watched the tour de France with my hubby. This year, for the first time in about 20 years I’m watching it on my own. It feels strange, no point in cheering on our favourites, no discussion about how Mark Cavendish will do. Just muttering ‘you would have loved this’ to his memory. I could switch it off, but I don’t want to. Tears will fall. I only got into cycling because of hubby. I miss him so much. He would be out cycling after this, a short ride to keep his legs going. He was over 70 and still enthusiastic. 70 isn’t old, he was young at heart. Disease not age took him from me. 😢😢

In memory

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I saw a prompt on Esther Chilton’s page “dreams” and decided to write a poem about loss to respond to it. Here it is.

In my dreams you are still here


I grasp your hand to pull you near


To say “goodnight” to you my sweet,


As my heart trips and skips a beat,


To have you here, to hear you speak,


That is the dream I really seek.


I know that you have gone away,


Will never see another day.


I’m in a dream now, holding on


To memories of you though you’ve gone.

Some books…

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“Some books are to be tasted.

Others to be swallowed.

And some few to be chewed and digested.”

Sir Francis Bacon.

A poster my hubby had before he met me over 40 years ago. We put it up in a frame and it really does sum up his life. Where I will read sets of books and I’m interested in biographies and art, sci-fi and science, he was interested in everything. He could skim read but take what he was reading in. He seemed to absorb the words like some sort of computer. He often read a book cover to cover in a day. He was an eccentric, an intelligent man, but not overly intellectual. He was unique and I miss him so much.

Happiness?

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Looking at these kittens from 7 years ago cheers me up. The sun is shining, there is a nice film on the TV. But I really feel down and anxious. I want to talk to someone, but everyone has their own lives to lead and I don’t want to bother them. I could ring up but my phone is on the blink. I talk but the person at the other end can’t hear me although I can hear them. I feel like it’s a metaphor (is that the right word?) for my life, frustrated and worried. Will things ever be good again? Will I find a modicum of happiness? I don’t know.