Grief I’ve decided is a physical and emotional process, and just when you think you are okay, you’re not.
I’m weary of the treadmill that seems the destination to nowhere, and feel bored but can’t be bothered at the same time.
A close friend in exactly the same situation read me a recipe of all the ingredients of grief from a booklet she has been given from a bereavement support group this morning.We had to smile at each other as both of us could confidently tick off the complete list – so we are just normal it seems.
Like me she thought things would get better with time, like me we agree at this moment that isn’t true.
Doing something healing, think that’s got to be the plan. So looking backward and processing the past rather than trying to invent a new future is my most recent idea. Quite surprisingly I’m finding it a comfort this afternoon and I am grateful to myself that I wrote down our stories in Telling tales.
I’ve decided to try and collate my favourite poems, so for the next few weeks they’ll be appearing again here. I’ve tried to extract them with AI but even James couldn’t make the process work, so it’s down to me and copy and paste, so I hope you will be patient.
Each poem brings back a memory, some happy others less so. If I feel I can get enough worthy of publication, then I might try to put them into a book in future. Perhaps you might like help me judge.
Anyway I’m going to start to wade my way through volume (one of twelve) and see what I find.
And to start with – Ken’s beloved Leeds.
1. Ken’s Footie Poem
I used to know the offside rule
Position in the league,
The tactics and the transfer deals
Managerial intrigue.
A mind of useless information
Used to network and start conversation.
The names of every player,
The grounds for every team,
Points and tables,
Fees and scores,
Now not important as before.
Today’s about the atmosphere,
The feeling,
Joining forces,
The hope, the crowds
Anticipation,
The Choir of raucous voices.
The skill is still appreciated,
The balance and control,
Watching set creative pieces
Resulting in a goal.
Young Mavericks, Old Masters
Making poetry with motion,
Elation and then deep despair,
A graph of raw emotion.
Being part of something big,
When the world is getting smaller,
No one cares about dementia,
Passions all that matters here.
Talking’s getting harder,
But I can still ‘sing’ every song,
Releasing deep frustrations,
In the throng of everyone.
A Goal!!!!!!
(I’m not sure if it’s ours)
Or even if we’ve won,
But I’ve had the ‘old’ me back again,
For 90 minutes with my son.
2. Ken’s Poem (adjusting to a diagnosis)
Once I was a joiner, a builder, businessman
Anticipating challenges with a well thought backup plan.
First it was the numbers,
Then measuring, then time
Days and months got muddled
This was the early sign.
The Doctor called it pressure, anxiety and stress
I even got top marks,
When I did the dementia test.
But something wasn’t working
Not functioning as it should,
The doubts crept in,
The worries,
I wasn’t understood.
Like pieces of a jigsaw,
A small part of a whole
We’re not connected properly
Resulting in a hole.
More tests,
We kept on fighting,
To find out what was wrong,
The CT showed no tumour,
But the diagnosis took so long.
Results were a relief that I hadn’t made it up,
And though there is no cure,
It’s the only comfort that we took.
We applied and tried for lots of trials,
With hope inside our hearts,
Perhaps we could help others
If only in small part.
Then dashed and down and feeling sad,
We mourned the future we might have had.
The tablets started ‘kicking in’
An life was good again,
I knew my limitations and learn to live with them,
But boredom raised it’s ugly head,
Retirement too early,
I need to get another job
For a sense of feeling worthy.
So applications and on line- though difficult to do
We’re mastered by my loving team
And I got an interview!
Six months passed as a porter,
In our local hospital,
An experience I treasure,
A privilege
A joy
I left before my memory made me make mistakes,
But I will always feel the pride and warmth
That making a difference makes.
The staff on every level
And patients strong and weak,
A portrait in humanity
I never thought I’d seek.
And now
It’s sometimes difficult,
To catch my thoughts with ease,
To say the words I’m thinking,
As they flutter in the breeze,
And sometimes days are hazy,
And sometimes days are clear,
We have to take them one by one
To banish any fear.
There is so much positive in life
And time is passing by,
Enjoying is essential
There is no time to cry,
So do the things with those you love,
You really want to do,
And when you don’t know what they are
Just make up a few!
The deeds may be forgotten,
But the feelings are the same,
Feel warm and safe and happy
Don’t stand out in the rain.
The little things that matter
Don’t always cost that much,
It’s more about a friendly smile
A kind word or a touch.
There’s still time for adventure though
To see and do and share,
And when it might not seem like it
Know just how much I care
For I have had a lucky life
In many ways I see
And every day is special now,
Making the most
Of who I can be.
Next I find a poem describing how it felt for me and others dealing with their partners in the same situation
3. Carer Feelings
If I said how it feels
It would only make things really real.
Nothing can be said or done
The changes can’t be overcome.
The leaking sieve
The grains of sand
We can’t hold in his open hand.
I say the same thing once again
And watch my tone with care
Pretend it isn’t on repeat
Enthusiasm share.
Sometimes it’s difficult explaining
Simple tasks
Without complaining,
And what went well just yesterday
Is no guarantee of what’s today.
Repetition is no key
Information’s lost so instantly
One thing at once with no exception
When he struggles with his recollection.
Distraction makes things harder
And focus waivers badly
Confusing situations
It always turns out sadly.
Mood can change and so does outlook
Such varies day on day
The positives than horrid falls
The brightness turns to grey.
I can not challenge or debate
The logic isn’t there
So I just go along with it
To show how much I care.
I try to make the feelings good
And hope, that they will stay
Just a little longer
As the memories fade away.
For those who do not know the stealth this illness has
It steals the skills, the hopes, the dreams
The change comes slowly so it seems,
But looking back so much has gone.
We can’t dwell on what used to be
Or what we both thought might be done
But plan to make the best of things
And prepare for what’s to come.
Alzheimer’s isn’t easy
It touches all the family.
The world no longer makes good sense
Everything is hard
Protecting with a great big fence
Constantly on guard.
The balance is so difficult
Independence v carer
Working out the boundaries
Making choices fairer.
Respecting the person
Keeping them safe
Giving freedom
Trust and faith.
Picking up the pieces when it doesn’t quite work out
Giving time and patience
When your instinct is to shout.
Dementia slowly wilts the flower
But keep it blooming on
With love and hope and tender care,
‘Til the final flower is gone.
I did my best to protect Ken until the end, but when I wrote this I’d absolutely not a clue of the journey ahead.
Enough for today
