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poems

The Aftermath

Naomi

When I walked past your coffin on that day of misery,
Walked out of the crematorium with tears streaming down my cheeks,
I didn't realise life was going to be this difficult.
It's almost two months since you “passed away”,
And life hasn't got any easier.
I still feel my stomach churn when I open the door to your room,
Now dad's room.
Your belongings are still in the bags they were in
At the hospice – unwashed, still smelling of you.
The nighties smell of the oxygen mask.
When I feel upset I go and sit with one in my hand,
It's as if you are there again, hugging me.
Sometimes I find myself kneeling by your bed,
Saying good night to you,
But then I come round and break down.
Nights are the hardest times,
When it's quiet and the world's at peace.
That's when I start to think,
When you fill my head.
I hear you talking to me, and sometimes I answer.
People who hear me must think I'm talking in my sleep,
Again.
But I'm not.

You asked me to be strong,
And I have tried.
And I will always be your angel – like you asked before you died.
But I want you to watch over me and help,
Encourage me and correct me.
Otherwise I have to live life without a mother,
In mind as well as in body,
And if I can say so that's - pretty much -
Impossible.