Tag: friendship

How life is never the same following bereavement, but still, there is life …
```
"... tonight in my kitchen 
as summer rain finally fell 
I listened to your playlist 
sang my heart out 
feet tapping 
hips swaying 
embracing the joy of life 
thankful for what we had 
and for all that is yet to be ..."
```
I expect that everyone reading this will have been impacted by the loss of a loved one. It’s a funny thing, bereavement, you never know how it will affect you and each time is different. The circumstances will be unique for both the person who has died and for you who lives on. Experiencing bereavement as a young person will be very different to how you approach it as you get older. And, of course, your relationship with the person will shape your response to both the process of dying and their ultimate death.

You may lose someone suddenly and the shock of it can rock you to the core. You’ll probably regret all the things you never had chance to say; the things you planned to do together that never happened; the questions you always meant to ask but never found the right time or place. I’ve lost count of how many people have said to me, over the years, to remember to tell people that you love them and to say the hard things before it’s too late. It’s not easy advice to follow.

Then there are the anticipated losses: loved ones that have a terminal diagnosis. You foolishly think you’ll be prepared and you brace yourself for the worse. But no matter how much you think you’re ready to say goodbye, you won’t be. Even when you know that letting go is the best thing for them, it’s still hard. You grieve whilst they are dying and then you grieve again when death comes.

In my experience, you’ll be guided by them. When my dad was given a diagnosis of less than 6 months to live, he was very matter of fact about it, which meant I had to be as well. Loving a person means you respect their wishes, no matter how much it goes against your gut instinct.

I’ve always believed that the best way to honour the dead, is to live your life to the full. That’s what they would want for you, I’m sure. That’s how I’ve tried to approach every bereavement I’ve experienced and it does help, particularly when you go through tough times. It’s the best prompt there is to make the most of every day you have.

My best friend died from a rare cancer that she was determined to fight. Even when she went into the hospice for what we all knew were her last days, she was sure she was there for respite only. She died when she was just 49 and it felt utterly tragic. I didn’t think life would ever be the same and, true, in some ways it isn’t. There’s a hole in my life that no one else can fill. But lots of life carried on regardless, as it must. We did have the opportunity to say the things we wanted to say, and I’ll always be grateful for that. I’ll never forget the wisdom she bestowed, which has guided my days without her.

There are so many times I wish I could talk to her, but can’t. There have been rare occasions, since she died, when I’ve felt her presence so keenly and even heard her voice. At times that has brought me comfort, other times it’s given me a kick up the backside; always it makes me grateful for what we had.

I wrote this poem some years after Karen died. It was my way of telling her I was okay. We’d listened to a lot of music together, danced and sang our way through many a favourite track. For a long time, I couldn’t listen to the music we shared; the fact that I was able to enjoy music again reminded me that healing does come, life does go on and you do recover parts of yourself that you feared you’d lost. If recovery feels far from you right now, then be patient. It will come in time.

Since you’ve been gone Download
24/09/2025
When relationships runs their course …
```
"... it’s not easy to let go 
when relationships 
run their course 
memories 
sometimes surface 
rising waves 
lapping your shore ..."
```
I’m an introvert through and through and, in my world, small is beautiful. I don’t have a huge number of friends and never have. I like to keep things simple. I remember people telling me at various stages of my life … school, university, and workplace … “you will make friends here that will stay friends for life”. I came away from each significant milestone with maybe one good friend from that same period. That was enough for me.

That said, I’m fiercely loyal and take my friendships very seriously. I invest a lot of myself in my friends and my girlfriends, in particular, are precious to me.

It’s true though, isn’t it, that some people are in your life, perhaps intensely, for a short period and others for the long haul. It isn’t always easy to see that at the time. At least, I don’t think so.

I’ve met many older women over the years who have taken me under their wing and advised me never to rely on anyone, but to stand on my own two feet. Wise words indeed. But in my mind, they were talking about intimate partners. Surely friendships were different? They are different, but can be equally difficult, if not more so.

I’ve found it harder in many ways to let go of friends than partners. Despite the fact that women have long celebrated their girlfriends, I think we still lack the vocabulary to talk about love and loss in friendship.

There’s always been a part of me yearning for connection with others, despite my leanings towards introspection. I thrived as a manager and leader at work because I loved supporting and mentoring others, but only as long as I could return home every night to recharge my batteries in the quiet of my study.

I’m a contradiction of sorts, I suppose. I want to feel like I belong with others, and yet at the same time, I want to opt out when it suits me. Is that so unusual I wonder? I was deeply hurt on two occasions when close friends chose to walk away from me. One came back to me, for which I was eternally grateful and another tried, but I closed the door on her because it felt like the right thing to do. I’ve felt guilty about that, but I’ve trusted my instinct and stuck with it. I still think it’s the right choice. Equally, I’ve been the one ending friendships, because it felt to me they had run their course.

As I’ve grown older I think back on the advice those amazing women gave me when I was, in truth, incredibly naive and thus vulnerable. In the end, the only person you can truly rely on is yourself. Most of us are blessed to be able to share our lives with people we love, including friends; I know I am, and hope never to take them for granted.

Equally, I hope I stay true to myself, knowing when to steer my own course. See, I told you I was full of contradictions!

Skeins of geese Download
17/09/2025
How unexpected joys can sustain you for days …
```
"... watching starlings 
gather in for the night 
leaves me yearning 
for connection 
to return to knowing 
without explanation 
to meet others 
with shared purpose ..."
```
I suppose you could say that the experience of the Covid pandemic made this poem possible. You could say that and, on one level, it would be true, but on so many other levels, it wouldn’t. Of course, the pandemic put an end to gatherings for most of us and I’m not sure we’ve ever fully recovered. I still have to pinch myself when I go into a coffee shop and the place is buzzing. Is that just me? I find it’s small things that make all the difference. An unexpected encounter, for example, can sustain a mental boost for days afterwards.

That said, the tendency to which I allude in this poem is more about me than the pandemic. I’m an introvert, so avoid events involving lots of people. My idea of a good night out is actually a night in, having dinner with friends. The food that doesn’t have to be fancy, just cooked with love; what could be better?

The idea of walking into a party of strangers, where I perhaps only know the host and one or two others, simply doesn’t appeal. I’ve never mastered the art of making small talk whilst also holding a glass and a plate and repeatedly telling people what I do for a living. It’s excruciating. Add to the mix several giddy children running wild. I’m sure you get the picture.

But when we were invited to a friend’s 40th, of course I said we’d go. She’s a darling girl and why wouldn’t I want to celebrate with her? Showing up is what friends do isn’t it? It tells them that you care. I would’ve gone even it was fancy dress, (which it wasn’t, thank goodness!).

The thing is, whilst I want to avoid the crowd, I do welcome celebration. I yearn for ritual, for symbolism and marking milestone moments. Well, I was brought up a Catholic; ritual was woven into my school days as regular as the Angelus bell. Almost every day of the year was allocated to celebrate one saint or another, not to mention the annual festivals. Yes indeed, the Catholics had it covered – a prayer for every eventuality. I left all that behind years ago, but have never truly found an alternative to satisfy my desire to make sense of the world. I guess writing has been my chosen sacrament.

Digital technology has created a world in which we can meet via screens rather than in person. Don’t get me wrong – that can be amazing. I can now see my friend in Australia whilst we talk, which is a joy. That said, I hardly ever call my friends or my family; I text. It means I can think more clearly about what I want to say and they can read it at a time convenient to them. The downside is that I can’t pick up their mood as readily as if we were talking, actually face to face.

I guess, in the end, it’s about balance. I need quiet, introverted time for sure. But I also need the company of others, to answer a need in me that I can’t satisfy alone. The party turned out to be a success all round. I knew more of the crowd than I thought I would. There was live music, delightful children who unashamedly danced with anyone who was willing, and oh … the fireworks were magical! I left with a glow about me, which I knew I couldn’t just keep to myself. Hence the poem, I had to share the love.

Gathering Download
13/08/2025