Echoes Of My Heart

The Invisible Veil.

2010-01-05T17:00:15Z

Behind this veil I wear

Of soft smiles and calm demeanor

Cuts a knife of sorrow deep,

No blade was ever keener.

A rope of tears binds my heart

And ties it tight with grief.

Though on the surface I'm serene,

I'm screaming deep beneath.

This veil obsqures the world

And creates of it mere shadows

As I drift around in half-light

Blown wher'ere the wind goes.

Lost in memories, bitter sweet,

Too sad, and tired, to fight,

To find my way from darkness

And leave this endless night.

I may appear to listen, respond,

And turn toward your touch,

But I'm chained down in the depths

The weight of grief too much.

This veil lies heavy 'cross my soul

And screens each days new dawning

It cloaks my mind in clouds and mist

For 'tis the veil of mourning.

Thinking about the lovely lady in the supermarket.

2009-12-12T18:37:00Z

So, I'm standing in the supermarket, and, as you do, I start chatting to the woman behind me at the check out. I've not had a good day, and her bright smile and chatter is welcome and pleasant and gives a sense of "normality" Neither of us has done any shopping for Christmas, not one mince pie, not one present so far, no tree up, and I start to warm to her, maybe I'm not so odd...... I'm not the only one who hasn't done anything yet. Me, because I've been so busy grieving since dad died, and she because she's just...... well,.......... busy! Then she tells me that she's supposed to be going out that or the following night, I can't remember which, but she thinks she'll look a fright, going in her jeans and she hasn't had her hair done because she's been going through to a unit in a nearby city every day with her dad for his radiotherapy, and just hasn't had the time. Before I could stop myself, I'd said, "Oh, my dad went there too!" and immediately regretted it. She was saying how he has to go back again after Christmas for another scan to see if the tumour has shrunk, and maybe he'll need to have some more radiotherapy. Her eyes alight with hope and love for her dad................ I was terrified that she'd ask how my dad was doing, and that then I'd have to tell her that he'd died, or I'd have to lie and say he's OK. She looked around the same age as me, and as full of optimism as I had been when dad had his radiotherapy. I didn't want to ruin this lady's Christmas with tales of doom and gloom! I just wanted to run away, but I didn't, I just carried on the conversation, being careful what I said, and finished by reassuring her that I was sure she'd look fine on her night out and gracefully exited the supermarket. Outside I felt guilty, and as I walked away I started thinking maybe I should have offered her some kind of support, but goodness know what!! (and Good God....... a total stranger, she would have thought I was well weird!!) Twice I nearly turned back, thinking, should I ask her if she knows about this site, should I tell her to seek me out on here, or others in a similar situation, for support. I kept walking, thoughts tumbling through my head until I reached my front door. My daughter in law thinks I did the right thing, not getting involved, and not dampening her Christmas Spirit, and maybe her dad will be ok and not be as bad as mine was. But still, she's been in my thoughts for the last couple of hours, worrying about her, hoping her dad will be ok. Funny.............. how a total stranger can touch you like that without them even knowing, she probably went home and forgot all about me!! But wherever she is, I'm sending wishes and thoughts of healing and strength to her and her family.

Good luck lovely lady! x

Unexpected Smiles

2009-11-29T00:57:46Z

I went to your house today,

Opened the door, and found myself calling

“Hi dad, it’s me........

The rain’s started falling....”

No cheery reply

To answer my calls.

Only shadows of words

Bouncing off walls.

Just silence to greet me,

Sadness and gloom,

And I take off my coat,

Go in the front room.

I switch on the TV,

Grab a disc from a pile,

Turn it up loud,

No more quiet for a while!

The room fills with music,

Familiar voices,

The hand of fate plays

With our “Random Choices”

It’s Liverpool, your birthday,

Two thousand and three.

The whole family’s there,

I see you, I see me.

You were 80 years old,

Fit as a fiddle

Singing “Blueberry Hill”

And having a giggle.

Aunty Maureen, with cake,

Candles ablaze,

In the old “Seamans’ Mission”

That’s seen better days.

We sing happy birthday

And dance round the floor,

And we all look so certain

There’ll be many more.

My tears start to fall,

But smiles are there too

For the beautiful memories

That we have of you.

Even when ill

You still loved a good tune,

And the sound of your singing

Would fill up the room.

Though I’m sad, I must smile,

Coz Heaven for you

Will be karaoke with Angels.....

And necking a few!

And I’m sure that you’re there,

Enjoying a Rum

With friends gone before,

Family and mum.

Party on Dad!! I love you xxxxx

"Dad" jokes

2009-11-26T11:07:19Z

You know the ones.................. they're only funny because your dad told you them. My dad had a way of drawing me in and making me think he was telling me about an event that really happened. At the time I groaned at both of these when he reached the end, but now they are precious memories of my funny dad. He would strike up a conversation and slip them in somewhere, clever!

Whilst telling me this first story we were talking about my boyfriend at the time who was in the army (remember that because it makes the joke) and uniforms.

"And what about the "Salvation Army" dad said, "They wear uniforms too. In fact, when I was in the pub last night a couple of them came in."

"Oh, why?" I asked.

"They were trying to sell me one of those "War Cry" magazines, wouldn't take no for an answer, kept going on and on!"

"What, harrassing you?"

"Yeah, I kept saying no, but he kept insisting, then the woman he was with came over and started trying to get me to buy one too!"

"That's terrible," I said, "I didn't think they were allowed to do that, did you tell them to go away?"

"Yes, I told them to leave me alone.............. so then the woman said "Well how about a "Young Soldier " for your daughter?"

"God dad, they don't give up do they?"

"Well, I told her "No thanks, she's already got one!"......Boom Boom!"

During the second one my stepsons were only aged about 10 and 11.

Dad...... "I saw Anthony and Scott yesterday when I was down at the market."

Me........."Really, they should have been at school, what were they doing?"

Dad....... "They were dragging an armchair down the street"

Me........."What? One of mine?"

Dad....."No, they told me that some bloke had given them it. They didn't know who he was."

By this time I'm concerned "When I get home I'll ask them what they were doing, they should have been at school." I'm muttering.

Dad.... "so I went into the pet shop, came out, and there they are with a 2 seater sofa, dragging it down the road, I shouted "Oy! Where've you got that from?" They replied "Some bloke on the corner" and carried on down the road."

Me...."Where were they taking it?" I asked.

Dad...."Oh, I don't know. But I went into the market, got some veg, the pork chops were on offer, so I got a couple of them, nice."

Me.... "But what about Anthony and Scott.... did you see them again?"

Dad...."What?..... Oh yeah, when I came out of the market, there they were, dragging another armchair away."

Me..... "Dad, you should have rung me....... I want to know what's going on!"

Dad...." No ,no, don't worry, I sorted it out."

Me...."How?"

Dad...."Well, this time I stopped them, I asked who had given them the chairs and sofa..... they said they didn't know the guys name, he was just some bloke.........so I told them........ No! Don't do it......... What have you been told about taking suites (sweets) from strangers!"

Needless to say, my stepsons had been safely in school and nowhere near the market!

Yeah, so they're not hilariously funny, but they're 2 of my favourite "Dad" jokes!

Why Echo?

2009-11-25T16:05:48Z

I am the echo of my parents. Their DNA resonates through me, vibrates through my children and strikes a beautiful chord in my grandchildren. I echo my parents names, Joan for mum, and dad was Francis, I am Joan Frances. My nephew Nick is the echo of my father at 18, the same lopsided smile, and that echo bounces off his younger brother, Will, who so young, already has some of my fathers features. My half sister is the echo of my mother, so like her that I could almost think I was talking to mum at times, if not for the difference in eye colour. I echo my mothers even temper, which strikes a note in my eldest daughter, before reverberating off my eldest son. My mum and dad are not gone. Echos of them and their parents and theirs, and so on, surround me everyday and will be passed down forever through the amphitheatre of our lives creating a beautiful melody, the original note no longer heard, but the symphony it created apparent everywhere.

Memories, (just a few) of a Wonderful Dad.

2009-11-25T13:03:08Z

RIP dad 3rd November 2009

He held me in his arms as a baby. When we were young he constantly had a cine camera or camera in his hands and took numerous photos of us, to record every moment. He filmed my first steps. He laughingly called me “Stool pigeon” when, at 2, I pointed out to mum where he had accidentally cut the dining table with a saw, and then tried to hide it with paint. He nicknamed my sister “Boo Boo” as a baby when she cried. He pushed us on swings tirelessly. He taught me to ride my first bike. He let me hold the dog leash on Castle road, at my insistence, and when the dog dragged me over he didn’t tell me off, but kissed my grazed knees and cuddled me whilst the dog headed off up towards the castle. He teased my sister endlessly the day she fell coming down Oliver’s Mount……… telling everyone she’d skidded down the hill on her nose. On his days off he took us to the beach, up Oliver’s Mount, Peasholm, the Italian Gardens, the open air theatre and all over Scarborough, whatever the weather……… not because he had to, but because he wanted to. And took numerous photos of us having fun. Before we had central heating he would lift us out of the bath, wrap us in towels and run to the dining room to stand us in front of the fire to get dry. He stroked my hair whilst I sat at his feet. He taught me to spell “different” and “difficult” before I started school. And “necessary” although I still sometimes get that one wrong! He bought me my first dictionary and whenever I asked how to spell a word he would get said dictionary out, look up the word, pronounce it, spell it out and give me all the different definitions before handing it to me to see for myself. He let us call him baldy when he’d been to the barbers. He rubbed his stubble on my face when he needed a shave. He brewed his own beer and wine from scratch when we were young. He took us on the cinder track picking blackberries, elderberries and sometimes dandelions to make the wine. He was clever and could turn his hand to most things, He could fix almost anything, and we nicknamed him “Mr Fixit” He’d chase us up the stairs laughing and calling “Aye, we always do this!” I can’t remember how this started, but it continued until we were grown up. (Although maybe a little more sedately as we got older) He gave us everything we needed without spoiling us. If you wanted to know something, you always asked dad, because he always knew. He kept the manuals for every gadget he bought, and always knew where to find them if things went wrong. He was an able DIY man and was always on with some job in the house. Painting, decorating, a bit of plumbing, and was able to complete these jobs to a high standard. He gave me £100 all to myself on my 14^th birthday. He took us to Rome, Malta, and Cyprus, and taught us to always respect local customs. (When in Rome, do as the Romans do) He had silly little sayings (e.g. If I don’t see you through the week, I’ll see you through the window!) He always smelled nice. He was handsome. He always wore a suit and was very dapper. He bought a pair of jeans in his 70’s and didn’t mind when me and Cath giggled at the thought of our dad in jeans. He put his overalls on for even the smallest task, like checking the oil level in the car, or checking the tyre pressure. On the morning of my 16^th birthday I woke up at 8am to the sound of the record player up full blast playing “Happy Birthday Sweet 16” He was still climbing up onto the roof in his 80’s to check something or other. He laughed when in my teens I called him an “old fogey” Thereafter when ever I wanted to join him and his friends or older family members, he’d tease me and say “You sure you want to be with us old fogeys” He made me laugh till I cried, impersonating me in his interpretation of me “bumming fags and drinks” in the pub when I was 18. He never liked any of my boyfriends (except for “Even Stephen” who helped him sand down the front door) but always seemed to get on well with Caths’ fellas. He was a fantastic granddad. He teased Kirsty about not staying at his house when she was due to stay, let her draw faces in the condensation on the windows even though it made them look a mess, and when she was older played “Hotels” with her when she stayed, answering her “letters of complaint” and serving her breakfast. He would always ask Ailsa “Where’ve you been all my life” to which she would answer “I haven’t been around all your life granddad” They thought it was funny. He would always ask Nick “Got any gum chum” before giving him a stick of Wrigley’s. One hot day, when Kirsty was very small, he tied a sand bucket full of water to the washing line. He told Kirsty, Anthony and Scott to go see what was in it, and then yanked the line up into the air, showering them with (warm) water. They squealed and laughed and made him do it again. (about 100 times!) He played the fool for his grandkids. He fixed my car. He didn’t shout at me when I wrecked his car. Even in his 70’s he was prepared to fight if it meant protecting me (bringing the dog for backup!) although it never came to that thank God! After mum died he always asked me to go to his works reunion with him (and the old fogeys!) even though he had lady friends. Sadly I didn’t go to the last one because I was working, so I don’t think he went either. That makes me feel sad and sorry that I didn’t swap a shift to go with him. He had endless energy, walked everywhere and put us young ones to shame. He never appeared drunk to me, even when he’d been out all day on his "Naval Days"……… I’m sure he had hollow legs. He taught us to be respectful to other people, and to always be polite, no matter how annoying someone else was. He taught us right from wrong. He taught me the “old one two” (give em a cauliflower ear) although I never used it! He was always there to bail me out of trouble. He looked after mum, by himself, before she died. He had lovely friends who cared a great deal about him. Everybody loved him, his sense of humour, his generosity, his caring nature. He didn’t want anyone to know he was so ill and told me to tell anyone who asked that he was just having “tests” He wouldn’t allow visitors as he didn’t want anyone to see him ill. He taught us dignity. He refused to be put on the waiting list for the hospice, saying that “someone else might need that bed more than me” He tried to hide his illness from me and Cath in the beginning, because he didn’t want us to worry. He didn’t want us to cry or be upset. He never complained about being ill, or my clumsy attempts to look after him. He insisted I still go to Egypt despite him being so ill, and even lent me money to finish paying for it. He wouldn't hear of me cancelling. He sat and listened when I got back, chattering on about all the exciting things I'd seen and done, even though he was tired. He was independent, he was a fighter. He was a loving father, grandfather and great grandfather. He was only diagnosed in August, and left us 3rd Nov. He was my hero. He was my dad.