So today I was going to write a bit of a rant about perth (you know to show the 4 people who read my blog how witty I am and such) However as I was going through my diary I found that I had written something much more important on this date last year... So my rant is just going to have to wait.
29/3/09
On a Day such as today I cannot help but stop. Take a moment and remember. force my subconscious to soak up every moment pent within this care facility. I refuse to let myself forget a thing. The way my grandma looked laying in that bed, her hair reduced to but a wisp, her body lacking not only mass but also energy. In a word she is beautiful. Not in the way the world describes beauty, but an effortless beauty that is not given by genetics but earned by a lifetime lived in sacrifice for others.
It is not the big things I fear I will forget, it is the little things, the seemingly insignificant moments. This seemingly insignificant moment. I fear that i will forget the way she held me around my neck, this dying frail womens iron grip that squeezed me tight. Taking with it my ability to stay in control. I fear I will forget the words that came from her mouth, The way she told me I was beautiful, she missed me, she will always love me. Never forget me she said, as every eye in the room ran with tears of stolen years. I fer I will forget the way her hand held mine as her fingers dug into her palm and arms pushed down in nervous movements and strained attempts to cover the pain. I fear I will forget the way I felt as though I would give my life to make hers worth living.
I will never be able to describe the deep sorrow that hit my stomach like a punch to the gut. The woman that lays before me taught me how to sew, taught me how to knit, taught me how to create. She encouraged my dreams without a hint of doubt and sat with me for hours playing make believe. We would ride the titanic, dress up in her clothes and jewelery, have tea with the fine china and sell play dough cakes to our customers of soft toys. And as make believe became real life and toys became boys she would always have time to sit, talk and make me feel like the only person in the whole wide world. Today as she lays before me, a fraction of the woman of her youth, I cannot help but feel the need to remember and promise myself I will never forget because soon it will be only memories that remain.
5 days after I wrote this Joyce Bracegirdle, my Grandma, confidante and friend died.
And I haven't Forgot
29/3/09
On a Day such as today I cannot help but stop. Take a moment and remember. force my subconscious to soak up every moment pent within this care facility. I refuse to let myself forget a thing. The way my grandma looked laying in that bed, her hair reduced to but a wisp, her body lacking not only mass but also energy. In a word she is beautiful. Not in the way the world describes beauty, but an effortless beauty that is not given by genetics but earned by a lifetime lived in sacrifice for others.
It is not the big things I fear I will forget, it is the little things, the seemingly insignificant moments. This seemingly insignificant moment. I fear that i will forget the way she held me around my neck, this dying frail womens iron grip that squeezed me tight. Taking with it my ability to stay in control. I fear I will forget the words that came from her mouth, The way she told me I was beautiful, she missed me, she will always love me. Never forget me she said, as every eye in the room ran with tears of stolen years. I fer I will forget the way her hand held mine as her fingers dug into her palm and arms pushed down in nervous movements and strained attempts to cover the pain. I fear I will forget the way I felt as though I would give my life to make hers worth living.
I will never be able to describe the deep sorrow that hit my stomach like a punch to the gut. The woman that lays before me taught me how to sew, taught me how to knit, taught me how to create. She encouraged my dreams without a hint of doubt and sat with me for hours playing make believe. We would ride the titanic, dress up in her clothes and jewelery, have tea with the fine china and sell play dough cakes to our customers of soft toys. And as make believe became real life and toys became boys she would always have time to sit, talk and make me feel like the only person in the whole wide world. Today as she lays before me, a fraction of the woman of her youth, I cannot help but feel the need to remember and promise myself I will never forget because soon it will be only memories that remain.
5 days after I wrote this Joyce Bracegirdle, my Grandma, confidante and friend died.
And I haven't Forgot
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