You never know how you will react to death until death is upon you. I imagined my Father’s death a thousand times after his cancer diagnosis, yet his actual death felt like I was seeing it for the first time. I was naively prepared. In the aftermath of his death, I was not sure how … Continue reading
The rituals that surround death are comforting like the rituals of making tea. Despite death taking a life from your hands, you can still feel useful. The body needs to be collected, prepared for burial or cremation, and eventually buried or burned. Fill the kettle, boil the water, select the tea. You can collect photos … Continue reading
My Father had a bottle of whisky, Johnny Walker Blue Label. He received it as a present and always told us that he was keeping it for the right moment. My Father never had expensive things and that bottle of whisky was one of his treasures. Growing up poor, he had learned to cherish what … Continue reading
I am culturally Christian, which means that other than Christmas and Easter religion doesn’t play a role in my life. I tried Christianity on a few times, but it always felt like a shoe that was too tight; restrictive, uncomfortable, and not easy to walk in. Christians have told me that faith in God and … Continue reading
I I go to my Mum’s house and find you standing in the kitchen but I know it isn’t you. You’re dead after all. But I see my Mother’s face and she looks so happy, so happy that I almost can’t tell her; it can’t be you. Somehow we are in the dinning … Continue reading
December is hard. Birthday, death, Christmas, funeral. A month by any other name would still smell of sorrow. I’m scared of going home, sleeping where you died. Blue walls, pineapple delight. Scared is not the right word… you were always a better poet than me, but I can’t show you what I write, anymore. … Continue reading
Organise notes for presentation I miss my Father Remember to pack laptop I miss my Father Check bus timetable I miss my Father Swing by the bank I miss my Father Meeting at 3pm I miss my Father Don’t forget to buy bread I miss my Father WASHING I miss my Father Think of something … Continue reading
Anne Hume was a Scottish writer in the mid-1700s who died in 1821. I would like to think that her songs and words not only speak to me because of their beauty, but because of an inexplicable link with Scotland, and my Father and our shared heritage. The song is about lost love and it … Continue reading
As Aeneas prepares to leave Dido she is heartbroken. Rather than live without his love, Dido decides to take her life. In her swan song she asks, Remember me, remember me, but ah! Forget my fate. But such simple words ask for an impossible request: remember me in good times, but don’t remember my death … Continue reading
The problem of the dead taking up space is that there is not a lot of room left for the living. Continue reading
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