This week Michael’s asking us to explore the concept of longing.
I suppose I long for times past.
Not that getting old worries me so much, or I feel I missed out on a lot of opportunities.
I made some pretty standard and stupid mistakes, had my share of hardships and health issues, the latter of which have been sorted and I’ve come out the other side OK.
Losing Mum in January was both a release and blessing for her, but for those of us left behind, we’ve had to deal with our grief the best way we can.
I lost my Mum to dementia several years ago, and would long for the days when she would call me by my sister’s name, which is how things were when I was growing up. It worked the other way too, my sister often being called Di, and I accepted that Mum was seeing one of us and thinking of the other. It was the same with our husbands, so just a little quirk which we would tease her about, what made her my Mum.
Our visits were irregular, not because we didn’t want to go, but being so far away, it was not just a case of getting in the car and nipping down the road. We had other things to consider, but when we had the boat, we were a hundred miles closer and tried to do down once a month.
I wrote this for another challenge, and it seems fitting to repeat it here.
Mum’s chair, like her, is no longer there by the window. But I remember.
I remember you sitting in this chair
Every day for what seemed eternity,
The sunlight catching your snow-white hair,
I felt you slipping away from me.
Your body here, your mind elsewhere,
I wonder where in time you’ll be.
Happiness surrounds you there
I see you smile at a memory,
I hold your hand to show I care,
Hoping you see what I see.
Shadows linger, hearts laid bare,
Acceptance of what will be will be.
So many things we still can share
When your thoughts filter back to me,
I’ll be sitting here in your chair.