Emotional week

I suppose it's because I have been physically down and emotionally a bit battered this week that I have been thinking a lot - suppose we all think a lot all the time but sometimes you are to busy to see your thoughts.

Also have had to re-assess my relationship with Jimmy - he's in danger of losing the plot at school and I have been hesitant or possibly too self absorbed or even fearful of getting too bossy with him.

This week we have had a wake up call – timing was bad – for me as I was emotional before – probably because I was ill.

Alex and Rob came to the rescue in their own ways – Rob by being here and sorting stuff like the broken plug and taking the dog. Alex for being very firm and telling both Jim and me to get our acts together. Things which needed saying – to both of us.

So the end of a emotional week during which I have thought a lot and felt lost and lonely but like always very supported – friends phoning and emailing – not even knowing I’m down but just because they do!

Anyway have been thinking a lot and obviously thinking about Chris – it’s when you don’t know what to do - that you really miss talking to someone who knows everything there is to know about you.

Woke up early this morning – not sleeping well at the moment and opened a book straight to this poem – which was quite weird. I have been thinking about whether Chris was really ‘ready to die’ in a strange sort of way – and this poem made me think that he was – he died as ‘old as you can be to die a young man’s death’. He crammed so much into his life – but he also took time to relish and cherish the small things in life – the shared cup of coffee – the ‘hand crafted worksheet’ – the preparation of a meal - but he lived every second of his life - with the reality of his disability and he really really did not want to be a dependent old man.

I must accept that the timing was right for Chris to die - but it's hard when you are trying to do your best for your children. I think I can do me - but I can only hope I'm getting it right for the boys and especially Jimmy at the moment.

I feel the need to take things a bit more slowly for a bit – not much use to anyone when I’m like this. Here’s the poem:

"Let me not see old age"

Let me not see old age: Let me not hear

The proffered help, the mumbled sympathy,

The well-meant tactful sophistries that mock

Pathetic husks who once were strong and free,

And in youth's fickle triumph laughed and sang,

Loved, and were foolish; and at the close have seen

The fruits of folly garnered, and that love,

Tamed and encaged, stale into grey routine.

Let me not see old age; I am content

With my few crowded years; laughter and strength

And song have lit the beacon of my life.

Let me not see it fade, but when the long

September shadows steal across the square,

Grant me this wish: they may not find me there.

by

D.R Geraint Jones

But poetry wont take the dog for a walk so time to get up and to get on with life and to make the most of my few crowded years!