In search of lost time...
What did you do with your lost hour? It's funny how every year the clocks go forward, yet every year we still find it surprising, and hard to adjust to the earlier sunrise peeping through our curtains.
So, what would you do if you could reclaim that lost hour. I know what I'd do. It's simple really. I'd go back to the last time I saw my Grandad and tell him I loved him. I hope that he knew, but we have never been a family for expressing our deepest feelings verbally. Probably why I throw myself into writing when anything slightly traumatic befalls me.
I can remember crystal clear the last time I saw my Grandad, even though it was seven years ago. He was meant to come out of hospital the next day. We'd been playing a card game, and the nurses started bringing round meals, so me and my Mum decided to get out of the way. We went to hug him, but the nurses were clearing rushed off their feet, so we didn't want to get under their feet. We(so we thought) would see him the next day anyway.
But it was not to be. Granadad died in his sleep that night, on American Independence Day. Ironic really, for a man who was fiercely independent his whole life.
For about six months, I couldn't even look at photos of him. But over time my mind has allowed me to reflect on his life, and I have written a couple of poems about him, both which have actually been published in various places. I read one of them at a poetry night on Thursday. The next day I was in the canteen at work, facing the opposite way to the side I normally sit, and I looked up to see a gorgeous rainbow. It wasn't there for long, but I saw it. It was the only sign I've ever needed really...
So, what would you do if you could reclaim that lost hour. I know what I'd do. It's simple really. I'd go back to the last time I saw my Grandad and tell him I loved him. I hope that he knew, but we have never been a family for expressing our deepest feelings verbally. Probably why I throw myself into writing when anything slightly traumatic befalls me.
I can remember crystal clear the last time I saw my Grandad, even though it was seven years ago. He was meant to come out of hospital the next day. We'd been playing a card game, and the nurses started bringing round meals, so me and my Mum decided to get out of the way. We went to hug him, but the nurses were clearing rushed off their feet, so we didn't want to get under their feet. We(so we thought) would see him the next day anyway.
But it was not to be. Granadad died in his sleep that night, on American Independence Day. Ironic really, for a man who was fiercely independent his whole life.
For about six months, I couldn't even look at photos of him. But over time my mind has allowed me to reflect on his life, and I have written a couple of poems about him, both which have actually been published in various places. I read one of them at a poetry night on Thursday. The next day I was in the canteen at work, facing the opposite way to the side I normally sit, and I looked up to see a gorgeous rainbow. It wasn't there for long, but I saw it. It was the only sign I've ever needed really...
Comments
Post a Comment