For Adrienne

I'm sorry but I don't have any sports reckons in me today. It's been a strange couple of weeks. The conclusion of a long farewell of my fiancee's Grandma, Adrienne.

We spent a lot of time sitting with her over the last few months as slowly took up less and less space in the room. It was an extended period of observation and contemplation. Mirroring the time I spent with my own Granny at the end of her life and all the impossible big feelings that came with that.

This time though, I found myself opening my notes app and writing down little scraps. In the absence of any other sense of control, I became fixated on trying to lay them out in some sort of order. Yes, I wrote poems.

So, with my fiancee's permission, I'll share one of these today with you.

I think I’ll give up breathing,
it’s hard work.
Hands clutch the red mug
she sways on the edge of sleep.

Pastel, patchwork crochet
biscuits, my Grandmas favourite, now beside her.
Rings glint, sit loose
Brown ceramic partners —
Salt and pepper —
Guarding her love.
Ashes to ashes
Breathing she must.

I wake up sometimes having a conversation out loud,
I can’t remember where it started.
That’ll be the morphine.
It’s beautiful.

Hair grown long for a friend
It wreathes her pillow
a promise well kept
We watched and she slept.

I'll be back in your inbox next week with regular programming. But in the meantime, please give your loved ones an extra squeeze for me.

With you,

Alice