Monday, July 26, 2010

The Past I'll Keep

A Poem

They say the pain will surely pass
The tunnel's light will cast its beam
Your feet will touch new blades of grass
New dawn dispel a troubled dream

The lesson of the starless night
Trod wearily with leaden feet
Will soon give way to warmth and light
Your aching bones infused with heat

And though the new seem odd and strange
Familiar faces will be seen
Some things not even times can change
They will be what they've always been

So life beyond the tunnel's end
Will be to you the future's gift
And if you make the path your friend
The journey long may well be swift

But I'll not take the sleeping draught
Or drag my feet as if asleep
Stride to the fore my face abaft
With steely grip the past I'll keep

© Chris Price 2010

Saturday, July 24, 2010

A Reflection

What Curse is This?

What curse is this?

That I find pleasure
In a trickling stream
Refreshing rain
A scone with cream

Disparate thoughts
that come and go
Some small talk
Or a TV show

My company I can happily bare
Come rain or shine I hardly care
As long as I don't have to share

Friday, July 16, 2010

A Bus Called Grace

My Mum was born on 14 January 1924 and died 14 June 2010

On 28 June family and friends congregated at a bus station called Stafford Crematorium where I gave the following eulogy.

Mum would have given you her last Rollo - she was the most selfless person I've ever met - but I recall a charity event which Mum felt she ought to contribute to. She found a birthday card she hadn't used and wrapped it in cellophane. It would have raised a few pence at best. I wouldn't want her send off today to be like an act of charity, wrapped in cellophane, rather more like giving our last Rollo because we would have rather kept her for ourselves.

This is more than the end of a life its the final chapter of a love story stretching back 66 years. Born Edith Betty Holland, she met a man she would dedicate her life to, to honour and obey, till death do they part. Dad died just over 10 years ago and if you knew him you would know that he was a truly great man but as they say, behind every great man…

They fitted perfectly. My Grandma used to say that they were the best mum and dad in the world and she wasn't given to flowery sentimentality. Mum was strong and resolute, not one for forgiving and forgetting. Fortunately Dad was a peacemaker - Mum the dependable, brittle, oak, Dad the strong but flexible willow. Mum had little self confidence but she had an inner strength she didn't believe she had and drew strength from the man upon whom she could utterly depend.

The last few years Mum battled with vascular dementia but she clung on to the memory of her family and husband like grim death when, by all rights, she should have slipped into blissful ignorance. Its as if Mum and Dad had journeyed together for 60 years and when they got to the last stop but one, Mum had to get off and watch Dad ride on to glory. She watched all the buses to happy land come and go because she wasn't looking for a bus called Mercy, she was looking for a bus called Grace. For 10 years she waited and finally the bus has arrived.