Sonnet: 8th September 2018

This was the day on which my mother died.

On this day, I learned the meaning of pain

And though time has passed, this hurt will remain

Long after the tears that have fallen dried.

I have forgotten, but I cannot hide

From truth, anymore than I can from shame.

I have lost the one who gave me my name

Taken farther than the waves on a tide.

I believe that I will see her again

Though departed from her physical form

I will still know when my time may come

Already she waits patiently till then

As life without her becomes our new norm

We work hard, to try to remember mum.


Sonnet: A Mother

A daughter, sister, friend and a lover,

She was all of this before a mother.

From a child she became a woman grown

Her precious time was rarely spent alone.


Inherently passionate and caring,

Above all else she was kind and sharing,

Of her love, her time and all she could give,

Through the unfairly short time she would live.


But the time she had, she made the most of,

Sharing her time with her chosen truelove.

Then three new souls, created together,

Became her desire, her earthly tether.


Though she is gone and her presence we lack,

We love you mum, to the moon and back.

Sonnet: Hear the Silence

Sometimes the silence is too difficult

To listen to, to hear, to acknowledge

It can be filled, but it always returns

Every return harder to filter.


Each time that you are forced to acknowledge,

That the only voice, for that you listen,

Is the voice you must accept, you cannot

Hear again, as it is already gone.


Last words mouthed, but not spoken aloud

And then you were gone, though I sat with you

Surrounded in love as you said goodbye

To us, to life, to the world that you knew.


Rejoining your family, already

Departed. You will wait for us to come.

Response to: On Holiday

My response to the post: On Holiday


I’ve been in a cottage in Skye now for three days. A holiday that was almost cancelled at the ninth, tenth, and eleventh hour. Yet one which thankfully went ahead.

After mum passed in September, we had no choice but to pull together as a family. This wasn’t hard to do. Crisis and personal sacrifice seem to be the norm for our family, but without mum with us to guide us it has been so much harder than ever before to feel like what we are doing is right, and that we are doing enough.

Having to build your day around the support of someone else, regardless of who that person is, and regardless of the love you may have for them, you can’t help but feel when your life changes as a result of someone else needs.

Despite this, my family, both of my brothers and my father are closer than ever, but hard hit by the magnitude of what we have lost. Mum meant so much to each of us, as individuals we mourn her loss, but stand by one another ensuring where possible that we are there for each other as much as we can be.

But a part of caring for another person, is making sure you take time to care for yourself, and my older brother and I took advantage of the cottage I had booked for my one year anniversary. While the relationship that the holiday was meant to mark did not last, the holiday itself came at a time in our lives where it could be properly taken advantage of.

Already three months have passed since my mum passed, and in that time we have had so little time to stop and do for ourselves anything that we require.

Throughout my time mourning, I have channelled my focus into creativity. I am lucky, I had just started a new and exciting college course just before my mum passed. I returned as soon as I could to continue with the course. I found that the focus and channeling of energy into producing the content required for my assessments gave me a means of pushing forward, productively, even on the hardest days.

I have pushed really hard to meet deadlines and finish tasks as close to the original timeline as possible, and although I have only a couple outstanding now, it is now that I slow down, that I allow myself the opportunity to switch off, that I find myself unable to focus on the things I need to write. 

I will likely miss more deadlines, and I am disappointed in myself that I have let that happen, but I am also proud of what I have accomplished so far, and look forward to continuing.

So for now, I will take a break, deserved or not. And after I am rested, I look forward to being ready to write again.

Sonnet: Goodbye Mother

The difference between sickness and death,

The same as breathing and that final breath.

Remarkable in its finality,

Comfort and grief, a strange duality.


From my world of hurt, pain unlike any other

Repress the pain of losing a mother.

It cannot be done I have come to learn

To get by yourself you have to discern.


A new path. Unlocked, without her guidance,

Staying true to course, avoid subsidence.

Darkness awaits the hearts of those who fall

Those who obsess over that final call.


Goodbye is hard, but suffering harder,

Permission to pass, no need to martyr.

Personal Blog: The Beautiful Warrior

I wanted to write something grand and beautiful. I have tried a few times now, to find words enough to express an experience so profound it has left me changed and very much in shock.

On the 8th of September 2018, at exactly 8:00am my mum died.

The drafts I have will likely be developed into content that will be shared in the near future. I hope to tell you more about my mum, she was an amazing woman who was compassionate and selfless through and through. She had so much love to give and all she ever asked in return was to be around the people she loved the most as often as she could be.

During her last week of life, she was a warrior, and she proved her strength and love in a six day battle that she gloriously ended. On my last full day with my mum I told her about Valhalla, I told her about the mead halls of vikings and warriors of great battles who she could regale with her tale. I can see her now bringing a rowdy hall to silence as she takes them on a long and rambling tale with many false starts and tangents. I can see them hanging on her every word.

I wanted to write about her sooner, to acknowledge what had happened. But the longer I left it the more difficult it seemed to write about. Even just writing it down makes it feel more absolute, writing about it makes it feel more real. No matter how much I want it to a lie to be false, I find myself having to come to terms with the fact that she is no longer a part of my physical life. Thankfully I still feel very close to her spirit and the love that she built into the fabric of everything she did, but I miss her dreadfully. I long to speak with her, to sit with her, even just to hold her one more time. But of course the finality of death is to accept that however much we want these things, we must accept that they are not to be.

Grief has been both horrific and beautiful. Trying to control it is like trying to control the tides, it comes and goes as it pleases, dynamic and ever changing. A reflection of life itself, which is also dynamic and changing. As painful as losing my mother has been, life has so far gone on relatively unhindered, and will continue to do so long after I rejoin her.

But before then I have a life to live. A life that I promised my mother would be as happy and full as I could make it. This was my final promise to my mother, and one that I intend on keeping.

Rest peacefully mum, your final battle may be over, but the legend of ‘The Beautiful Warrior’ has only just begun being told.

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