A Raconteur Girl Production

Posts tagged “sadness

Image

Lilacs for Lucy

 

Resting Under Lilacs Collage

 

Lilacs for Lucy

 

 

Lilacs for Lucy

Blooming so delicately

Nanna didn’t want flowers

Who wants flowers

When you can have a whole tree?

 

A bouquet may be lovely

But as soon as its cut – it’s dying

A tree is the opposite

Growing, breathing

Part of creation, thriving

 

So it’s Lilacs for Lucy

It’s a tree for my Nanna

A tree for your Mum

A tree for your Friend

A tree for your Great Grandmother

 

When I think of Nanna

I picture a garden home

Messy, rambling, beautiful

Where veggies are planted next to flowers

And where wild nasturtiums roam

 

Green through and through

From her thumbs to her toes

Like a Hobbit from Derbyshire

It seemed to me

Things grow wherever Nanna goes

 

Walking in her garden I hear a canary whistle

Then break into trilling song

I hear the soft shuffle of quails

And the flutter of finches

Chirping and dancing along

 

I see Nanna sitting by a fire

Lost in knit and pearl

Her needles click clacking away

She’s making warm woollen socks

For some lucky little girl

 

Other times I see her wearing black rimmed glasses

Engrossed in a riveting tale

A cup of tea poured

But then forgotten

Growing cold on the table

 

Will I see Nanna again?

Sitting peaceful by her fire once more?

Yes, I know I will

But in the meantime I have my memories

And the stories passed down from days of yore

 

(Ok, so maybe I exaggerate

They’re not exactly days of Yore

More like days of yesteryear.

No? Still insulting? Ok, sorry. I’ll be more specific:

The days of Mom, Uncle Tom, Uncle Mike and Uncle George

😉  )

 

I remember being fascinated by Nanna’s teapots

She collected so many over the decades

She set them out amongst a myriad other memorabilia

Those dusty shelves crowded

In a wrong, but somehow so right, random, bohemian display

 

I remember brown boxes of Cadbury Chocolate

Factory cast offs Nanna had bought

I remember those jars of colourful Boiled Sweets

Those packets of English Toffees

And those bags of Liquorice All Sorts

 

It was Nanna who introduced me to the art of shopping

She took me to “vintage” stores galore

While Nanna searched for second hand trinkets

I discovered clothes and shoes and hats

Eclectic styles from years past, to mix and match, and explore

 

I close my eyes and hear Nanna’s soft English accent

It coloured every word she would say

Her kind and mild way of speaking

“Dook” she would call me

In that unique Derbyshire way

 

I remember constantly asking Nanna: “How old are you?”

And to my consternation and grief

She’d always reply with a twinkle:

“I’m as old as my tongue

And a little bit older than my teeth”

 

But there were times that Nanna was not so gentle

Like when she had pruning shears in hand

I remember her ruthlessly attacking

A defenceless bush in our front yard

Hacking away until only a stump was left to stand

 

Then there was the way she played scrabble

How competitive she would get!

Like she’d swallowed a dictionary

She’d thrash you soundly on triple word scores

And then off she’d go to bed

 

I remember Mom once laughed relating

About the time Nanna had a hankering to buy some Llamas

“You have a big back yard Jean” she said “there’s plenty of room”

I don’t know why Mom said no, it really could’ve been a thing

Lucy and Jean – Kingston’s suburban Llama farmers

 

Then there was the time Nanna got her ears pierced

Long dangly hooked earrings and all!

I remember being so impressed

Whoever had such a Nanna?

It was just way too cool!

 

There are so many memories:

Nanna’s false teeth grossing me out, sitting in a glass

How she called Mick “Mickey” on the first day they met

Her gentle smile, her hair when it was black

Nanna teaching me how to play draughts

 

But mostly it’s a feeling I remember

No matter where I’d roam

No matter where I’d go

Nanna was the place

The place that meant home

 

Memories are a gift

Something no one can take away

They grow richer in the face of sorrow

They grow more precious

They become history that defeats the grave

 

I am grateful that I have these memories

Though right now my eyes tear and mist

I miss Nanna

And I’ll miss her for a while

For now, my Nanna’s gone to rest

 

But I know one day soon Nanna will awake

On that day she’ll be vibrant and strong

She’ll once again plant beautiful, messy, rambling gardens

She’ll get to be that Llama farmer

And she’ll listen as her Canary sings a happy welcoming song

 

I picture Nanna showing her great great great grandchildren

How to play draughts, how to prune a tree

How to knit socks, how not to suck at scrabble

And relating tales and stories

Of how life in the old world used to be

 

Yes, Lilacs for Lucy

Lilacs blooming so delicately

A hardy tree with a beautiful flower

That will grow and thrive

And live to eternity

 

 

Rach

25 July 2015

 

 

– See you again soon Nanna, with all my love, Rach

John 5:28,29 –  Revelation:21:4 – John 11:11-44

 

 

 


Image

Mist

 

Mist

 

 

The Mist

 

 

 

 

Like the silently drifting mist

Sometimes I wonder if I really exist

I seem to live in some never never land

Too long I’ve been standing in this sinking sand

 

 

 

Cos I’ll always be there for you

Be the rock that will see you through

Catch the tears as you cry

Take the blows, be your fall guy

 

 

 

Keep all your secrets and believe all your lies

Forgive the things others would despise

Be there through the thick and the thin

Take the burden and won’t give in

 

 

 

I’ll be your clown on a dark day

Take you in when everyone else turns away

Believe that you can and you will

Climb with you that rough and rocky hill

 

 

 

I’ll take your stupid and your smart

Set you on high, set you apart

Make you sing and make you dance

I’ll always give you another chance

 

 

 

But in the end it won’t matter

As I’m left alone, left to shatter

Turning your back you’ll walk away

And nothing I ever did will make you stay

 

 

 

You won’t see me standing there behind

Because you look for what you’ll never find

You won’t care that I’m loyal and true

All you’ll ever see in the mirror is you

 

 

 

I can stand right by your side

Chasing away the fears you hide

I can tangle around your feet

Feel your pain, feel your heart beat

 

 

 

But you won’t feel the touch of my hand

You won’t see my shadow where you stand

Never able to shout loud enough for you to hear

I’m too transparent, too sheer

 

 

 

For I’m the mist that can’t touch or hold

No matter how it caresses and tries to enfold

Everything moves on and passes through

No matter what a gentle mist might do.

 

 

 

 

Rach

2007

 

“With someone loyal

You will act in loyalty.”

– Psalm 18:25