Susie Hemingway

A Power Within

Category: Health Issues Page 2 of 6

“An Open Letter” Cont.

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On November 1, 2012

In Carers Support, Health Issues, In Death, Open Letters, Uncategorized

Update on an “Open Letter Between Two Woman” Scroll down to see the beginning beneath the poem  “All Is Love” if not already following.

Dear Susie,
It is a beautiful fall day. The sky is bright blue and filled with gorgeous puffs of white.  A true Colorado day with everyone outside on their bikes, running the trails, playing ball in the parks and enjoying the blessings of a perfect Indian summer.  I find myself at loose ends.  I met a friend for brunch and came home and felt lost.  I have cried very little, made myself available to see the lovely people in my life, and tried to center my thoughts on gratitude rather than sadness.  And then a deafening silence fills the house and I realize what I have lost.  I find I can tell you these things better than others.  I am busy acting “as if”, needing to reassure everyone that I am doing well. I tell my friends that I am whole despite this tragedy. And yet I know  that I have such a long climb ahead of me. Dan’s best friend, Ted, has faithfully read your blog since Dan was diagnosed. That was how I found you.  Today he wrote to me and said he wished he had the words you have expressed so beautifully over the years to clear out out the sadness and despair he feels.  Once I read his words I knew I had to ask you if your life feels a bit more whole now. I know you have been doing the hard work of grieving and living and wonder whether you still feel that inability to fully breathe.  It has only been five weeks but the rest of my life seems very long.  I am blessed with friends and family and a home I can afford and endless possibilities (I hope) and then the magnitude of what has happened blindsides me.  On my better days I can acknowledge death as the natural outcome of life, we are not to be spared.  I tell myself my western attitudes  of death are in need of a new interpretation.  I am reading as much as I can about grief  and yet find little solace.

I have spent seven and a half years being caregiver.  Now I must redefine my whole life. And there is the question that nags at my consciousness every day.  Where is Dan?  He was Buddhist,  I was raised Catholic and feel in transit.  I am unable to find solace in the church. I am trying to be kind to myself as I count the days but I keep replaying Dan’s last breaths in my mind’s eye and wonder if that picture will be with me always.  I  do not want to forget a moment but can one move forward and remember the past so vividly?  Time heals all wounds my mother used to tell me.  Does it?  I am really writing this letter to myself I think.  I went to the Cancer Center on Friday to bring in the bags of drugs that had accumulated over the years.  I wanted to dispose of them properly.  I found it profoundly sad to enter a place we visited 3 or 4 times a week for years and know that it was really. We had run out of the possibility of a miracle.  The nurses cried, I cried, the schedulers cried, I cried, and I left wondering if one could use up all the tears of a lifetime.

Susie, if you saw my life, even in my private moments, you would be saying Bravo, you are handling this so well.  I do believe I am doing better than I expected.  But life is so messy and our emotions can often hijack us when we least expect it.  So I hope you will accept this wandering missive as it is meant, to talk to someone whose life has mirrored mine in many ways.  I know we both we blessed with exceptional life partners.  I want  to honor that and I want to find the courage to continue and dare I say, thrive.

I still see you in your garden, mowing the lawn, enjoying the moment and I thank you for such a positive image.  It gives me hope and makes me smile.  I hope you are well and I send you my best regards. Yours Susan

 

Dear Susan (16th October)

 

Having just returned from a rather nice late holiday in Southern Spain with my son and friends I am drawn to your email first.  My best PC is away having some repairs  and so I am ‘limping’ here on an ancient model but wanted to let you know that I am thinking of you and have read with much interest your words written so eloquently. From your description of a bright beautiful fall day there in your home town of Colorado to here much the same. The gardens blown to pieces with the sudden gushes that have brought the red leaves of my Virginia Creeper down and scattered them like sad drops of crimson along the gravel drive and across the lawns of my little home here in the farmlands of the Lincolnshire Wolds. The gardens are untidy and need attention but will soon be bare as the weather in this part of England dictates. I am not a lover of the cold winds and enjoyed so much the warm weather of the past ten days. Winter is long here, the nights darken early and our winters often bring snow. Not the best time of the year for me as I approach two years without my best love…

 

How alike we seem when I carefully read you words that mirror so much of my early days of grieving and loss, the meeting with a friend for lunch and then the overwhelming sense of sadness on return. Profoundly engulfing with that terrible feeling of loss and aloneness I know it so well!  Does it ever change? I have always promised to be completely truthful when writing my blog and will continue here as I know you would expect this of me. Sadness and loss have a habit of sneaking-up on you just when you expect them least. Sometimes joyous occasions can even be worse, the desire to turn around and share it with your best love and to find them missing. Oh that terrible feeling!

 

Often on holiday I thought how much Hamada would have enjoyed the warm sun of the Mediterranean on his back, the leisurely strolls and him loving this part of the world as he did. These feelings would I believe be impossible to lose. They will stay forever with us but we will learn in time to live alongside them. The days pass, almost two years for me and the pain is less raw now but I can’t say I don’t ever have wishful,thoughtful,needy days because I do. I cannot wish to forget or close my mind to these feelings of loss – I allow them to enter and fill my mind in quiet times. And then to put them aside in this special place in my heart and just get on with life once more.
Mourn now Susan not just for the loss of your precious man, but also for what will never be and then gently let it go…
Make small beginnings towards reshaping your life without the one you loved – easy huh? The books tell us that is what we need to do – but for all of us it is so different – love is different – is it not? I can talk of my love here but never to a counsellor. How would she know how I felt? Did she ever have a love like mine? I know I would be cross and angry, so it would be a futile task and of no help what-so-ever for me. Others may be different, other mourners might glean some comfort from that kind of therapy. For all of us we must take the path that feels the most comfortable in our daily lives and towards anything that will bring a fruitful tomorrow – tiny steps, tiny efforts, no more is needed at this time it is such early days for you dear one.
As to whether you will ever lose the picture of Dan’s last moments from your mind, I cannot say, but do you really want to? They are yours forever – your heart will soon learn to absorb this pain and you will accept this vision as part of Dan’s time with you here on earth, as he is now in heaven-yes I was brought up Catholic too! Think of him there, why not, free from all worldly pain, smiling and happy – that’s how I choose to think of my Hamada, resting quietly and always with his beautiful smile. Many would say that’s silly but it suits me well to believe this. As you know he is buried here in the village – a Muslim in a Christian Churchyard but that was his wish and I feel near to him here. Perhaps he thought in his wisdom that would be the case. He was so perfectly clever.

 

I still cry privately maybe not with tears but in my heart. An overwhelming sadness that arrives for no reason. It is no longer for others to see, but I am sure my closest friends and I know my family are aware of the sadness I still feel and probably always will. Back to that term I use often, that learning to live alongside this loss is what we have to achieve. 
Always celebrate your loved one, even just in your mind and with your own memories, this celebration will keep him with you and part of you. For he lives within you and you are made of all the joy he brought to your life. This significant and enormous loss does change you (how could it not?) But you can choose whether the change is for the better or not. I am far more compassionate now than as a young woman. I don’t doubt my capacity to recover or yours but I believe that to live my life now to the best of my ability and at it’s most fullness is not a betrayal of his memory, remember your loved one would want the very best for you.
It is such early days for you Susan and your email reads of one doing so very well but please don’t expect too much. You will have many days of odd emotions. To and fro, back and forth with such powerful emotions of need. Of course in the first few days there is a certain relief when finally the suffering is over and your best love is at rest. Then a period of adjustment to being and living alone – not easy. Sometimes a feeling of anger of being left alone, Hamada was younger than me – I did not envisage being alone in my old age but this feeling of anger is short lived. I am by nature a very social person but now enjoy my quiet thoughtful times. I make little plans for my days – with silly small things – I often talk to myself or sing away  I have a deep love of music which comforts me. I shall soon be that mad old lady who lives at “Hemingway” If I’m not already!!! It may seem as if you’ll never feel truly happy again but your new joy when found, will have a richness, depth and understanding that will have come from knowing profound pain and eventually profound healing. 
Expect to go back and forth with your emotions during these first months or so – I still choose to have my sad days – why not – I miss him so… It is our right to grieve and cry out for the good men we lost. But days do get better and you will thrive well, of that I know. Perhaps dare I say, you will go on dates one day again? Perhaps find a companion to travel with – you are still young and why not, but always keep your independence for I do believe this is vitally important. Good men are good listeners too!  Life has a habit of going on and we cannot choose to go back, as much as we would wish to do so, nor can we step off and stay with only our memories to sustain us. Believe in your own strengths after all you cared well for someone for all that time without hesitation or weakness – we can do this in loving memory – I know Hamada would be proud of me and I know Dan is of you too. I try to live in the present now, small simple things give me joy – I am sixty five next month but still feel there is more left in life for me. I seemed to drink in the visions of beauty on this recent holiday – noticing things in vivid colours and more detail than for a long time.
Sorry if I have rambled some – it has been a busy morning with interruptions one way and another and this old computer knows I am busy and is giving me a hard time! Still I pray my humble words will help you in some way. Written and sent with love.  Blessings dear lady.
Susie x 

 

 

All Is Love by Susie Hemingway.

By

On September 4, 2012

In Carers Support, Health Issues, Love poems, Multiple myeloma, Poetry

For Those Who Need  A Love Poem Today

Love is a perfect note;
love is a certain smile or a gentle touch.
It is the dripping  juiciness of ripe mangos on a parched tongue
or the smoothness of rippling silk as it touches your skin
or perhaps the sweetest strawberry dipped in liquid chocolate?
 
Love could be the aroma of double espresso just before it reaches your lips,
 or is it the smoky woody smell of a newly lit fire?
 All is love.
 
 
But… Love is also the stormy greys of long worried nights
 love is restless broken sleep that drains energy from your soul,
 love is eyes heavy from sadness.
 But love is also the ashen face that looks at you when days are bad and you are brave.
 Love is you starting the fight once more as realisation arrives in your eyes.
 Love is also the beautiful eyes of family members whose tender glances record their own story.
 Love is the strong arms that support and guide your way.
 Love is the dearest child who stokes your hair with such beautiful gentle hands.
 Love is our private moments that make difficult days better,
 love is that look across the room that says it all.
 
Love is all these things…
And all these things are love, and you.

An Open Letter.

By

On August 22, 2012

In Health Issues, Multiple myeloma, Open Letters, Uncategorized

An Open Letter:

When we are in danger of losing a love one from serious illness we do everything within our power to search for a solution by means of medical help from every source we can find, to save them, and in so doing keep them with us. We lean on friends and family, delving deeply into their views and experiences of life’s most difficult moments. Sometimes it is easy to chat with someone you hardly know but who has been through the same thing that is approaching you now. Susan had been reading my ‘Poems of Love’ for a year before Hamada died, over at www.susiehemingway.blogspot.com  Her comment written just after Hamada died and shown below tells of her own situation and how our lives during the past years were running the same course. The follow extracts are from our correspondence, truthful exchanges between two women bearing the same pain and the same experiences. And now as dear Dan has the news that time is short we have been corresponding again. Thank you Susan for the permission to post here a couple of the comments and emails that have passed across  miles that separate, with the hope that our words might help others:

Comment – November 2010 .

Susie, I have been the keeper of the flame for my darling Daniel as he battled multiple myeloma for almost 6 years. We have had three transplants and have never had remission. I happened on your blog a year ago while sitting in Dan’s hospital room and have been a reader ever since. Tonight when I learned of Hamada’s passing I could barely contain my grief, for you, your beautiful family, your friends and I suppose for myself as well. I often wonder if today will be the day and the reality of your news made me wish I could embrace you and tell you that someone in Denver knows what a courageous battle was waged. Please know that you are a sister in spirit. Yours in great sympathy, Susan.

Email 13 August 2012. 

Susie, the doctor gave us the news today, perhaps 2 months. Dan is sad because he always could wring more time out of this deadly cancer. To be told it is over is shocking. The girls, 29 and 25 are bereft as am I. I have told none of my friends or family yet but I am asking you if you have any thoughts to share about this leave taking. I think it odd but comforting that I am reaching out across the miles to you. Somehow you are a sister in spirit. Yours, Susan

In Reply. 14 August 2012.

Dear Susan,

Where to start? I am full of grief for you Susan. I am so very sad for your dear family and my heart goes out to you all. Firstly, many times the Doctors are wrong, as they were with Hamada and I pray that Dan will continue well for the longest time.

I suppose my last days with Hamada are all I have to go on, although I have faced death before it was never on my own. Somehow, somewhere the strength comes. I do believe there is a God so I prayed that he would guide me during this time. I prayed that he would help me ‘let go’ and he did. I prayed that he would ease the way for my beloved and from somewhere support came. No one will be able to understand this time and this loss for you. It is a unique experience for all those who lose a much loved partner. Hamada helped me too – he knew he had come to the end of his fighting. He told me he was so tired and this I knew was the start of his journey home. (I am full of tears as I write this but I must try to help you) I am sure that when the time comes, that Dan and you will know and accept too. In the meantime you must live these days quietly and with ease, for all will be well. Use your great strength for it will come, wait with patience; serenely in the joyous confidence of your love for each other. For this time is yours and yours alone.

Family are grieving too, but no one can see your heart or feel your pain. It is for you to find your own solace and strength and you will, for I am sure of this. Looking back I know I shut down my pain during the last few days. I continued to write my updates but devoted all my time to Hamada. The family had visited at the weekend and so for the next two days I chose to be completely alone except for a short time when my dear sister and her husband helped me to bathe Hamada and although he was deeply sleeping I believed he could still hear me. I never stopped telling him, of my love for him. I knew the time was coming because of a change in his breathing. I still wanted to be alone with him. He was my best love as Dan is yours and you will know what is right for you. I held him in my arms even after he had died. I did not wish to disturb his passing in any way. And then when I was really sure – I called for my family to come. This was our choice; it may not be for you. I knew from what Hamada had told me on the Sunday night that he was asking for my permission to rest now. I would have given my all -as you would for Dan- for him to stay with us longer, but it was my duty of care to accept and to allow no further intervention which would have been futile. You will know dear-one when the time is here. Please accept these last precious days of love together -for love is the greatest of all gifts and we have been lucky to have known such joy. My thoughts and prayers will remain with you throughout this time.

“Father, hear the prayer we offer. For strength that we may ever live

our lives courageously. Be our strength in hours of weakness

in our wanderings be our guide .Lord I implore you, to always be at Susan’s side”.

I am your sister in spirit, all blessings dear lady.

Susie.

 

16th August 2012

Dear Susie,   If this disease has taught me anything, it is to approach life with an open heart and utter honesty in the face unbearable moments.  I know that may not work for everyone but it has kept me on the high road these many years.   Yesterday we celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary.  The girls arranged a beautiful dinner in Boulder, Colorado at perhaps the best restaurant in the state.  Julia and her boyfriend drove us the 45 minutes from Denver. It was perfect from start to finish.  I don’t know what the girls told the restaurant  but we were greeted so warmly and handed a glass of champagne the moment we walked in.  Everyone came by to wish us well and our waitress said she could only hope to treasure someone for as  many years as we have. At one point we were laughing so hard that I had a flash that I would probably describe my life with Dan, even the cancer years, as two people always making each other laugh.I flashed on the thought that one could capture moments over these many years and most would find us roaring with delight.  I might add he has one arm that is broken and useless.  He thinks he broke the other arm this week and can barely lift it.  That did not stop him from taking his best girl out for a night we will not forget.  These are moments of such grace and valor that they take my breath away. I cannot tell you how much your correspondence means to me.  I do have a sister of the heart.  Yours, Susan

 

18th August 2012.

Dear Susie, Your email to me was balm to a very weary and troubled soul. I know it could not have been easy to relive and write those words. I also know that you have reached out to many these past years (most probably your entire life) and your goodness and wisdom has calmed and soothed many a heavy heart. Your description of the last days mirror what I have had in mind. Dan does not want to go to hospice and tells me he will die in his own bed. He is at the hospital, as I write, getting blood and platelets. He still refuses to stop all treatment since he has a 60th birthday in a few weeks and wants a party. God love such courageous people. His other arm broke yesterday so now he has two arms that are almost useless. He doesn’t complain and seems to grow more beautiful in his suffering. I remember thinking that of your dear husband. I was fascinated by his face and the story it told of love and strength. I will keep you posted but I do not want to add any burdens on you. I think you are marvellous! I am grateful that you reached out across the miles and I humbly thank you for your honesty and compassion. Yours, Susan.

18 August 2012.

Dear Susan, You would never be a burden dear lady. I just wish with all my heart that you did not have to go through this dreadful time but such is life for all of us at sometime. My positive thoughts and all prayers will continue for you and for Dan, throughout the coming days for all strength and courage. As my last poem says ” Give me your hand that I may walk with you” Many hugs across the miles Susie x

29 August 2012

Dear Susan,

Just to let you know I am thinking of you every day and that you and Dan are in my daily prayers. I am hoping beyond sense to believe that Dan has rallied and I shall continue to wish with all my heart this is so and that Dan has a wonderful 60th Birthday. How are you? I know you will have not a minute to yourself but I am sure your daughters and family will be close-by to support you.

Keep strong Susan – this is yours and Dan’s time now. Sending lots of hugs and my very best wishes. xxxx

Susie.

 

Dear Friend Susie,

My daughter Catherine has called this a beautiful disaster. I find it an apt description for a situation that seems to bring with it a multitude of sacred and profane moments. Dan’s left arm is useless. Now the right arm is broken and there are a number of ribs that are cracked and causing great pain. When I tiptoed out of the bathroom, to quietly leave without waking him, he started singing “My Girl” in a voice ravaged by steroids but beautiful to me. How can one move from such highs and lows and keep oneself from spinning into a million broken pieces?

The house is full of flowers, cakes, food, and wondrous cards and messages that all pay tribute to a life well lived. When Daniel went to the Cancer Centre on Thurs, all the nurses and his oncologist threw him a surprise birthday party. Imagine an exam room filled with balloons, streamers, a gorgeous homemade cake and all his caretakers. The” beauty of this disaster” keeps reminding me that we only have this moment.

The girls and I spend endless hours on the bed talking to him about what he considers his life’s principles. Why have you always found it so easy to take the high road we ask? How do you manage to keep your equilibrium in situations fraught with pot holes? What principles do you think have been your guiding truths in your professional and personal life? And on and on and on. For I fear not asking the question that will become so important to me later in not having his answer. It is totally irrational, I know, but I have no excuse for the musings of an unsettled mind. My brother flies in today to spend time with all of us. And Dan’s siblings will be here in a few weeks. They will no doubt live their North Dakota childhood once more with endless stories and great hilarity. The goodness of people is humbling. This morning Dan told me he now has set his sights on being here for Christmas. From his lips to God’s ears I silently say as I kiss his cheek. And I face this day knowing that people do care so much. Someday Susie I will personally embrace you and tell you what a difference you have made. Yours in light and love, Susan.

 

5th September 2012

Dear Susan
I have been thinking of you and Dan this morning as I mowed the grass at the rear of my small home here in England. It is such a beautiful late summer day. So green everywhere with a stunning blue sky. A day that makes you think that all is well in the world and of course it isn’t!
Your last email lifted my heart in so many ways with all it contained. Catherine’s ‘beautiful disaster’ is so profoundly true. We speak and see things during these sad times with such clarity because our minds and hearts yearn to securely store everything to memory. We need to know the very essence of our dear-ones, what made them the strong men we found so attractive all those years ago and how have they managed to endure with such grace all that has befallen them since. We ask all and everything as we should, there seems to be special times for that somehow. God makes space in our busy schedules – odd moments of such joy, amidst the suffering and the sorrow. These precious days of parting and of love do continue in your mind of course but maybe during a quiet moment perhaps before you sleep Susan, you may like to jot down some short sentences, just an outline or a clue to jog your memory of all these ‘beautiful disaster days’ precious moments that you will wish to recall with your daughters at a later date. You will be busy now, rushing here and there with lots of visitors, cooking and caring with Dan’s family and your friends visiting, that things sometimes erase from our minds and you find yourself saying “and what did we talk about then?”
I must admit I wept a few tears when I read about Dan singing “My Girl” and hummed it for the rest of the day. How perfectly beautiful was that! Just a delicious memory to carry with you for always.
Stay strong and well dear lady. I send all positive thoughts and my prayers your way.
Susie

 

Friday, September 07, 2012

Dan died early this morning. My prayers and thoughts go to dear Susan and all their family. May he rest in peace Amen.
17th October 2012.
Dear Friend Susie,
Dan is finally free from mind numbing pain, years of treatment, hospitals, cancer centers, transplants, specialists, death sentences, hopes raised and dashed, worries about health insurance and sadness about leaving a family he adored. I have you to thank for helping me be my best self at his leaving. I had your words to ground me on the last day of his life. I was not afraid, as I feared I would be, and Julia and I were able to be with him as he labored to be released from the bonds of an earthly body. I prayed the Rosary at his bedside for I have always found comfort in Mother Mary. Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. As Dan is a practitioner of an Eastern Religion and a meditation teacher, I whispered his favorite Sanskrit chant is his ear. Julia and I kept our hands on his heart center. He looked to me to be concentrating. When he breathed his last breath, we bid him farewell and thanked him for being such a wise and wonderful husband and father. It has been ten days since his death and I just sent my beautiful Catherine on a plane back to NYC. Now the real work begins. We have had a houseful of people for these many days, many tears, great gulps of laughter, tall tales told, family, friends, and wonderful memories. I so want to tell you about the funeral ceremony but I have decided that is for a time in the future when we can share a cup of tea and stories of the best men we knew. The house is deafening in its silence. But I have a picture in my minds eye of a lovely woman in the English countryside mowing the back lawn on a summers day and realizing that all is well. Thank you for your compassion and constancy. Yours, Susan
19th September 2012
 Dear Susan
How difficult the days must be for you , even though you must feel greatly relieved that Dan is now at peace. I wept at your last email knowing already and understanding your pain so well and how you must be feeling now. This place that remains a hollow in your heart that nothing can fill, is I believe, a way of sustaining that connection to your precious one. This quiet abiding feeling Susan is to be valued in a way, at least that is what I truly believe even now. It was, and is a private connection to your loved one, it still arrives without warning these days, although in the early weeks and months it never left me. You must be feeling all this hollowness now and nothing I can say to you, will help you with this wretched grief, it is so personal to you and to each of us. But it does as they say get better, you begin to walk alongside the pain, not like the early days ‘within it’
Be patient with yourself dear lady and let these feelings of sadness dwell within you, it is all part of the grieving process. I believe that you don’t need to tackle the emptiness at any time now and not even in the future, just be kind and good to yourself and just when you doubt your capacity to recover however long it takes – for it is different for us all – ultimately healing will arrive.
In the coming days you will experience all manner of feelings, you will be most vulnerable, cry at odd moments, yearn with a passion to see, talk, be with and smell your man once more. You will feel aftershock, numbness, denial, depression and confusion, some bitterness and much regret. All is normal, all is to be experienced, all is to be endured after loss.
You will have all of these engulfing emotions before you can manage with life once more. So many of your friends and all your family want to share the hurt in your heart, all our MM Internet world feel your sadness. So many wish to lead you to new hope and peace and so many are grieving along with you at your loss. But ultimately it is your journey, a journey now to find a renewed sense of purpose and joy to your life. And when you are ready and only then, will you lovingly let go.
As the weeks go by you will find that you can go for an hour or a day without the painful reminders of absence and emptiness but if I am to be as always truthful as I vowed to be when I started this blog, even now at almost two years on, I still feel such intense loss occasionally but have learnt to deal cleverly with my pain. I focus within for a while – take myself to a quiet place and allow my feelings of love to surface. Life will not ever be the same it will be different but we were lucky to have know such love – and many never do.
Celebrate your loved one with you own memories and the memories others will share with you, this continuous celebration of dear Dan’s life will keep your loved one with you and part of you. I know your daughters will want you to talk about their Father, it maybe hard now but later they will desire for the words to flow and they will, recalling better happy joyous times
Be open to rebirth for it will find you Susan, embrace this time for grieving as painful as it. For it is without doubt the most sacred and human thing you will ever have to do.
I send my very best wishes for your recovery and you will remain in my prayers always.
Yours Sincerely Susie.

Sometimes All It Takes.

By

On December 4, 2011

In Articles., Carers Support, Christmas poem, Health Issues, In Death, Love poems, Multiple myeloma, Poetry, Uncategorized

December 2009 011

This week I received two very lovely comments regarding my poems, both in the same vein informing me how much folk enjoy them and how they helped them when grieving or in pain. Yes of course I receive daily comments, it would be unusual if you wrote a blog and never heard from anyone but sometimes the wording of these comments propel you forward to keep trying to perfect the one perfect verse. I am supremely pleased when anyone leaves a comment, just to imagine someone  taking time from their busy schedule to bother to email me saying how much they enjoyed my words, a phrase, or a particular poem delights me. Sometimes they may refer to my words having helped or brought healing tears at a point in the lives when sadness was choking or blocking their emotions. That upon reading the simple phrases written here, they say it was enough to know someone understood their own pain and could perhaps share it with them. Being sad or worried is a lonely road and often one you cannot continually share with your personal friends or family. Grief affects us all at some time in our lives and to different degrees  but I yearn to understand how some of us survive while others do not.

Unless you have been or are a Carer, it is often difficult to understand the daily stress of following harsh schedules and the responsibilities for another person’s life. So often this comes upon you suddenly and it is difficult to absorb all that appears before you. If you have no nursing experience you are confronted with serious decisions to help your partner to make regarding the right path to take with medical matters plus the emotional side too; often with no outlet for your own feelings, which hover near the surface daily. My choice was to write down my daily feelings and in my simple words I found a voice that started privately but ended up world-wide! I will try to continue with my ‘poems of love’ after reading these two rather special comments this week asking me to do so.  Blessings and thanks dear friends.

On another little subject that seems to be most difficult at this time of the year for the newly bereaved is the putting- up of Christmas decorations. Often these have great sentimental memories attached to them and are often collected together over the years if you have been together for a long time. I have talked of this recently with dear friends on-line and through social networks. Folk who are struggling even to get a few pieces out of boxes for the festive season. Me too I’m afraid. Really I feel it depends whether you have grandchildren visiting or not. Last year when very newly bereaved I made a huge effort to do all the ‘normal things’ especially for my Grandson and family. I found it most difficult but he had lost his beloved Grandpa only the month before and I wanted all to be as it was in previous years when he visited. As if it could possibly be but I am sure you understand. I wanted him to think nothing else had changed too much. My feelings if you live alone now, that perhaps changing things a little can help. It’s painful when so much is going on around you, Christmas displays and festive music in all the shops makes it difficult to function without sadness as it is. So instead of having your normal decorations, perhaps having a small arrangement of twinkling branches maybe flowers instead of the tradition tree if that is what you used to share with your special person. Change things a little. Perhaps a decorated photo of your loved one with gorgeous scented candles that can be lit when the mood feels right for you, would be better for your heart.

When Hamada was very ill he would love to look at the Christmas lights even more than before when he was busy, he would watch as I decorated the tree with little suggestions here and there.  The following poem written in 2008 tells about that and is shown below. Have a joyous Christmas my dear friends with all your good memories, as precious as the love you will always have for your special person.

 

In Christmas Lights.

 

Sharp and crisp as snowy nights
crystal clear in prism lights,
gentle orbs that sparkle bright
shining are your eyes tonight.
Reflected jewels of liquid amber
like dripping rich fondant creams,
chocolate in the deepest hue,
I bow my head to look at you
 
Eyes that hold this strangeness well
in candlelight they watch and drink
forgotten words, much time to think.
A bitter pill that’s hard for you,
as fairy lights come into view,
white and gold’s, red and greens,
you simply watch in reverent scene,
reflections in those honest eyes
of baubles and of Christmas time.

 

In Christmas lights my poems for you
expressed in love, a poignant view…

 

All Rights Reserved: 2008

First Year Anniversary of Hamada’s Death.

By

On November 22, 2011

In Articles., Carers Support, Health Issues, In Death, Love poems, Multiple myeloma, Poetry, Uncategorized

 

I felt it appropriate on this first anniversary to post again two poems written around this time last year. The first, the simple poem “This Rollercoaster Life” was written when I knew and needed to accept that there was no more that could be done for Hamada or rather that there was no more medical intervention that our dearest Hamada could possibly have managed or that he wanted done. Although we still kept hope alive really apart from the love and tender care I could possibly achieve during his final days, I knew I had to accept that this was the time to stop fighting to keep him with us and pass on my care to the Almighty.  The second poem was written shortly after losing  Hamada and deals with the acute and painful feelings of this time. Letting go with dignity is hard when all you want to do is scream aloud with the painful sadness you feel. I have made it through this first year with much help from my dear family, very close friends and my MM friends worldwide. I thank them from the bottom of my heart for their love and patience but mostly I chose to grieve in private, apart from a few rants on here or when hearing a favourite song or piece of music that we both loved, caught me unaware. I may place a smile on my face everyday but my heart tells a different story.This man was much to miss! 

Manu and Grandpa - Stickers 2007Manu and Grandpa in bed - laughing 2007

“Hamada’s story” is still and will remain on http://www.susiehemingway.blogspot.com  It is in reverse order for the new friends who I know come here from other sites to  read about MM, ending with his final days and covering more than four years. All aspects of emotion in the form of poems and many entries on caring and loving someone deeply as we both came to terms with the disease that is Multiple Myeloma.

Today and always I salute this special man: “I miss you dearest one as the sun comes up everyday and the moon appears at night, and as private as my tears fall, I miss you with every breath I take”

“This Rollercoaster Life” – 24 October 2010.

 

As swooping as the Rollercoaster
my heart hangs in fearful suspended news
that fills these ‘purple days’.
Days that bring shattered dreams,
only the strongest mind can hold.

 

My laughter becomes an echo that teeters on the edge
as I snap and break at disclosures strewn around.
My heart bleeds to dissolve this anger
which knows no bounds and as unruly as my mind.

 

Soaring high into this shimmering mosaic sky,
I hang on like a child that screams into the wind,
as these punishing swoops, turn into views as
fragile and as consuming as this Rollercoaster life.

 

All Rights Reserved:  October 2010.

 

“Let Me Not”  – 2 December 2010.

 

Let me not falter dear Lord.
Let me not fall at this final hurdle.
Guide me now to complete this task.
Let me not plaintively wail and scream as my heart doth now.
Allow me to show dignity that he always showed.
Let me not stand beneath the stars and scream his name aloud.
Let me remember this day, as we honour him.
Grant me the courage that he always showed.
Let me not go down on my bended knees and shout at the sky,
And implore you to return him to me.
Let me not fall at this final hurdle.
Give me the strength Oh Lord not to fail,
with this final task…

 

All Rights Reserved: November 2010

"Poetry is the opening and closing of a door,
leaving those who look through to guess about
what is seen during a moment" Carl Sandburg

God Bless Hamada.

“I recall this time”- Carers Support Article.

By

On September 20, 2011

In Articles., Carers Support, Health Issues, In Death, Multiple myeloma, Uncategorized

Hamada

As this month embraces Autumn I recall the September of last year  and the wretched struggles of that time. I suppose in retrospect this backward view, this sorrowful indulgence, is something that those bereaved need to do. A kind of  summing up as you approach  the first anniversary without your special person. It is not maudlin or mawkishly sentimental, far from it. It is for me necessary for shall we say, the organization of the mind.

In the early months of loss, when so numb the years of caring seemed like a bad dream. I could not breathe without pain through the sorrow and  I would have turned back the pages of the book to have him back with me in an instant. Of course never to see again  the horrors of this disease or  the damage it inflicted on this gentle wise  man or for him to suffer on and on but just to hear his voice calling my name or to see his eyes light up when I entered his room.

I was not the only one amongst our friends to suffer loss that year. MM took many of our newly made friends in 2010.  Friends made at the hospital, diagnosed at the same time and internet friends made out of a need to follow together as Carers. We used our common knowledge, clung together in an effort to help, support and glean information fr0m each other when we could. We became a strong body and positive in our efforts to champion, protect and help.

For the first few months of MM although I clearly knew the facts but because of our strong love, I believed we could beat this disease and although I saw and knew well the terrible changes overcoming Hamada, I continued with hope until the end.It goes without saying that this period of my life, the immense shock at diagnosis, the daily struggles, doing my best to help was and has  been without doubt  the most difficult period of my life but we made it to the end with peace and dignity and you will too my dear friends, the many of you who are still fighting for your love ones. Obtaining the best care you can for them and guiding them daily, to achieve a good quality of life from this a most difficult disease and the saddest period of your life.

Together  with love and tenderness these days become supremely special and will stay eternally in your memory.  It’s really all we ever want is it not, to be loved and well cared for in our final hours.

As Hamada’s first anniversary approaches, I have decided not to write here again about his ‘journey’ unless asked for advice or information regarding caring with Multiple Myeloma. I hope to move on to other subjects  but I will of course follow my friends blogs, checking in on them from time to time to see how they are doing.

I think my dear one should be allowed to rest in peace now. My intentions are to take time to get on with the years left to me. To enjoy each God given day to the best of my ability and to embrace new joys that have presented themselves. It would after all be just what Hamada would have wanted.

*“There comes a time to remind yourself of your reasons for living. You have a future worth enduring and you deserve to find a renewed sense of purpose and pleasure in your life”

*From Grief Therapy by Karen Katafiasz.

A Difficult Task.

By

On July 20, 2011

In Carers Support, Health Issues, In Death, Lincolnshire, Multiple myeloma, My Family, Uncategorized

Key of Life- for Hamada

What will it say in years to come? What will it tell the folks who pass by and glance, reading the words I’ve chosen. How I wanted to tell a story on this tablet of stone. How I wanted to place so many words. Words that would have filled this oblong of granite. Something much more, about the special man who rests here.

The rules are strict for the Diocese of Lincoln: Monuments should be of natural stone (with no reflecting finish) and a list of recommended stones is given to help with choice. The stone must not be polished, nor finished in any way to give the effect of polished stone. I agree with all this, keeping the beauty of this peaceful resting place is so important and garish shiny headstones would look out of keeping, here amongst the grey.

Inscriptions should be simple, reverent and with an appropriate epitaph but how difficult in a few words, when I wanted to say so much about the wise, kind and caring man who lies here.

I could have added angels to keep you company, or lilies in ornate decorative splendour carved across the stone. I could have added copious words in gilt, flowery sentiments of love. I wanted to say so much. For in my heart I desired the biggest and the most elaborate memorial stone of them all. A pharaohs tomb. For in my world you were the very best of them all.

Instead I knew you would not have liked that. For you were most humble, for you were too elegant for showy symbols. You would have wished to mingle unnoticed amongst the others, although you never went unnoticed.

Just a simple plain stone you said, like most of the others in this quiet lovely place of rest. Just my name you said, I will be proud to rest here you told me.

Keep it simple, keep it simple echoed in my ears but my heart wanted so much more, as I stood before the selection of traditional stones. Let it be elegant for this most elegant of men.

I made my choice, only once biting the inside of my mouth to stem the tears as I realized this would be the last task I would perform for dear Hamada.

So we shall see in early September when we stand together once again to honour this beloved man. I believe I’ve chosen the simple words well. Hamada would be pleased.

It is right and fitting.

Waiting for You.

By

On April 20, 2011

In Health Issues, In Death, Love poems, Multiple myeloma, Open Letters, Poetry, Uncategorized

Lilies from Jo -April 2011 004

I seem to wait for you these days,
like longing for the sun to rise after a sleepless night.
When believing that the bright morning rays
that cast shadows across my floor,
will remove this need from my heart.
And still I wait.

 

I wait for you like the excited child before a birthday.
Eager and keen for the day to start
when all the surprises and fun will begin.
But you never come to bring these joys to me!
I know you can’t…I know you would… I know…

 

I’m still waiting for you when I look at the night sky
filled with twinkling jewels.
I look again for you as I enter the house alone.
I’m waiting to see those laughing eyes, black as coal-chips
and the smile that always took my breath away.
I’m waiting…

 

The tears fall as I write this and you would have been
so  mad,
mad with me for being sad – but I’m waiting to hear your
luscious voice once more.
I seem to wait a lot these days.

 

I know you can’t make it right.
I know you can’t…I know you would…I know…

 

All Rights Reserved. 2011.

Little Love Tokens.

By

On April 16, 2011

In Health Issues, In Death, Multiple myeloma, Uncategorized

Hamada Flowers 001

Every week or so I take a little pot plant to Hamada’s grave to garnish in a small way the resting place of my beloved. I will continue this until his memorial stone is in place. We still have time to wait for that, as it is important that the ground settles and becomes flat once more. I have been thinking about appropriate words and style, what a decision this will be for me. I know my close family will help me with this when the time comes. Hamada was buried when the snow was deep on the ground and this winter was one of the harshest in living memory, so the ground until recently has been solid and unyielding. As Hamada is buried within walking distance of my home I can visit whenever I choose.  I always choose to pass by his grave on my walks. I bend and pat the ground where he lays and then as an elderly gentleman told me to do, look up at the sky for a moment or two.  This I have found is comforting to me as I listen to the noisy calls of the rooks, high up in their huge bowls of twiggy nests. The birds cannot spoil this high place of rest with it’s spring bulbs  and tranquil setting.

I think often as I walk, of the lovely words from “The Autumn of Love” by Khalil Gibran, which give me peace and today I leave here  for my friends just a small extract for your pleasure.

“The sorrow of love sings.

The sorrow of knowledge speaks.

The sorrow of desire whispers.

And the sorrow of poverty weeps.

But there exists a sorrow deeper

than love, more noble than knowledge,

stronger than desire, and more bitter

than poverty.

This sorrow has no voice, it is dumb,

but its eyes glitter like the stars.

Khalil Gibran – From Love Letters in the Sand.

Extracts and Insights into Letters written during the month of January 2011.

By

On January 29, 2011

In Articles., Health Issues, Multiple myeloma, Open Letters, Uncategorized

And Even More Snow Feb 9 2009 010 

Dear John,

Monday 24 Jan.2011

Yes indeed we can John, we can do all manner of things if those things bring us comfort. Kissing the special bookmark is a tender act of remembrance as you think of your wife. We fought long and hard to help our partners and so the path we take to bring comfort is ours  to choose and ours alone to find. If  a little gesture brings some peace or comfort to us, then it’s a must.

I try to keep busy to get through the days although not so in the first few weeks. I have now started  this distraction therapy with a little work at “Hemingway”  Work that was long overdue, re-designing the kitchen bringing it more up-to-date. Planning in my mind little things to take care of during the next few weeks, I thought might help? I sincerely hope your days have not been too painful this week.

When tending a love one and making all decisions for their medical care, arranging  drug ordering, keeping the many hospital appointments and with all their personal needs to attend to. The very many things that are important to make their days comfortable.  Then all of a sudden when they are no longer here and all their daily needs stop, it is like losing a right arm. A huge chasm opens  up, a void you feel like jumping into. The awful emptiness that fills your mind and  time “what do I do now”.

So I have been trying to fill my days with little projects. Not terribly exciting plans but achieving something small everyday gives me a structure to focus on, a sense of purpose in a way. I talk to Hamada  often just like he is in the other room as I am sure you talk to your precious wife also. I still put on his favourite music forgetting he is no longer there to listen but hoping he can, am I mad?

I was cleaning the window of his bedroom from the outside, something I often did- in between the window cleaners coming-so he could always have a nice shiny perfectly clear view of the sky. As I was rubbing away at the glass  I could clearly see Hamada’s reflection in the glass! I looked and saw him propped up in his bed smiling at me.  So I bent forward and blew him a kiss then on seeing clearly that the room was empty, my heart filled with such pain again at the missing of him. Things like that upset your day, the desire to see your love one just one more time, or for me to hear his  beautiful voice often overwhelms.

So keeping busy for me is paramount but I’m still not up to large social ‘do’s’ I live in a tiny village, our community is close and there are often rather nice things to attend. Village Hall Dinners, Music evenings but I’m not ready for those yet. I scuttle and flurry about like some demented black bat with my private thoughts and memories at times frightened they might vanish. Silly really for if they did, so would I. Of course we shall survive not living the life we had imagined but we shall keep our memories safe and perhaps by talking about our grief we may give some hope to others.

I pray you have a peaceful week and manage to enjoy some good days.

All very best wishes for your continued peace.

Susie.x

 

Hi Anne,

Wednesday 26 Jan 2011.

Yes today was difficult just like you said it would be, the horrid two month anniversary. Can it really be this long? You said it would be this way and you are so much further down this difficult road with your loss than I. Eight weeks!  this longing to have him back seems as if it has been forever. The quietness now in the house after all the bustle and arrangements of funeral etc. I am sure it is harder in a way for us because we spent so much time with our partners. Far more than any ‘normal’ relationship. Caring takes all the hours in a day unless you are lucky to have some help. Even so, it is hard to leave your loved one and for most of us, we were hardly apart in the last few weeks at all. How close we became, almost breathing together in the end, watching and tending to their needs in those last precious moments together. Then the exhaustion that arrived when all was completed and all necessary paperwork attended to. I could not think of anything except my loss and the wishing he was with me here again.I found myself spending much time sleeping in the first few weeks, buried deep beneath mounds of duvet; the weather was freezing with snow that matched well my icy heart and body. I did not wish to wake from the place without pain but I would always manage to get up in the early hours, shower and dress. The first thought on waking was so painful and my whole body shook with grief and longing. I found it hard to get warm although the central heating is perfectly adequate. Being shivery is normal I believe and impossible to get warm I would creep back to bed at the first opportunity. All I longed for were hot baths and even hotter mugs of black tea and to be completely alone.Fancy those being the only things that could bring comfort during this time, I would clasp the mugs of tea as if they were a life line.

You have told me of your comforts, how different we all are but whatever works is the right path to take. As these days go by we will see a progress in taking a new direction with our lives and that in turn may give us some peace. Look forward to hearing from you again.

All fondest wishes and hope for your recovery.

Susie x

“Tell yourself how well you do. You may discover you’re doing better than you thought”

Permission granted as “open letters”  All Rights Reserved.

Sorrow Is Better Than Fear – A Carers View by Susie.

By

On January 22, 2011

In Articles., Health Issues, Multiple myeloma, My Family, Uncategorized

 
“Sorrow is better than fear…
fear is a journey, a terrible journey,
but sorrow is at least an arriving.”

Alan Paton.

Looking back on the fifty- five months of  caring  for Hamada and although the sadness is an utterly desolate pit to try to escape from. I am inclined to agree with the words above. From the time of diagnosis although very hard to take onboard, my first and paramount thought was how can I make this time, this journey for Hamada the best it can be. Most  importantly especially at the end.

At times this consumed me but certainly not all the time. I was so busy fighting for the best treatment for him and learning all I could about the particular disease of Multiple Myeloma but often in the early hours of the morning when sleep was over and my mind was as sharp as it can be these days. I worried that perhaps the end would not be as I hoped for him.

I had talked to Hamada as the months went by about what he wanted most when the time came. We did not dwell on these morbid thoughts and often I denied positively that this time was not on the horizon, or in the next few months as was first thought. Often declaring  sincerely that he would probably outlive me.

I always gave Hamada great hope that this would not be for many years to come and certainly for a vast number  of MM sufferers this is now so. Hamada was a quietly wise man but he  had many complications that I knew were insurmountable and so I think did he.  We never gave way to hopelessness and only considered losing the battle on rare occasions. Never dwelling, just getting on with treatments and trying to make each day important  and special. With many goals to reach along the way.

I knew from these occasional discussions that he so wanted to be in our little home here in the country. He wanted to die looking at the sky in the comfort of his own bed, listening to his favourite songs and with me at his side. Thank goodness this was so.

So often as my family will testify, I worried(feared) that Hamada would be whisked away to hospital and not be where his heart desired to be ( hard one this). Very often by nature we panic when the time comes – wishing to help as much as possible to the end- never thinking that nothing more can be done, especially if it has been a long fight and many battles won.  A hard place to arrive at in the Carers mind but so incredibly important and must be found. The time to know when it is ok to stop.

 And so yes, sorrow although so hard is better than fear. For fear is a dreadful journey, I can attest to that.

23rd Jan 2011 – 2months since Hamada died.

Such A Good Cause.

By

On January 9, 2011

In Health Issues, Uncategorized

Sandrine and Hamada

My beautiful Daughter-in-law Sandrine Rutherford  is Swimming 2.5k on 9th April 2011, in loving memory of Hamada for the Marie Curie Cancer Care Charity. Sponsor her please if you can, at www.swimathon.org

For more information about Swimathon 2011, visit www.swimathon.org or contact us on info@swimathon.org or call 0845 36 700 36       

Making Small Beginnings.

By

On December 15, 2010

In Carers Support, Health Issues, Multiple myeloma, Uncategorized

Xmas tree 2010 006 

Although my days are painful I am making small beginnings towards reshaping my life without my loved one. It is good for me to write once more and I have started in a small way. The snow is still heavy on our lanes and now with even more predicted the temperatures  are falling sharply once  more. It feels as if it has been a long Winter already, as my thoughts turn to my first Christmas in more than thirty years without my special one. Today I decorated the Christmas tree, it would have been so easy to ignore but with my family arriving at this special time, what would our dear Grandson think if there was no tree ?  Grandpa loved the twinkling lights and would always admire gracefully the work involved. I can see them both together, looking at all the little ornaments collected over the years. My heart ached for Hamada today as I completed this task.

I walked in the snow and laid a perfect cream rose on Hamada’s grave this week. I know I am still shocked and numb but accepting and peaceful that I did all that could possibly be done to ease and comfort him during these past years. The pattern of each persons grief is unique to them, mine has been shaped by the particular relationship we had. All that was ever needed to be said, was said.

And so:  I don’t really believe that you ever “get over” such a significant loss in your life, grieving is among the most sacred thing you will ever do. This quiet abiding feeling is I feel a connection to my precious loved one.  I don’t really ever wish to lose it, my memory of him and our time together will always be maintained as I embark on a different chapter of my life.

So I decorated the tree observing our tradition with a simple ceremony that eased my pain.I can see Hamada’s lovely smile and his delight at this years result. “Missing you Habibi”

“I wish all my readers far and wide a very Happy Holiday and much  joy and peace to you all”

A Snow Covered Village In December.

By

On December 8, 2010

In Health Issues, In Death, Multiple myeloma, My Family, Village

Hamada's flowers Dec 6th 2010

AS the snow lay heavily across this perfect land. Temperatures plummeted to an all time low. Lanes were covered thickly with snow and packed ice. Branches weighed heavily with icicles as though they wept their perfect tears along with our sorrow. Important paths were cleared by a team of willing men as brilliant sunshine played and danced on crystal ‘water-diamonds’ studded on pasture lands.

We stood on that first day to receive this special man. Tightly together, our breath pluming feather like, into the crisp harsh air. All his dear ones so close, each with their own special memories of  this much loved, dignified and courageous man.

The first evening brought many to pay respects, travelling the length of the UK  to this beautiful little place on Gods earth. Staying in guests cottages on farms and in nearby bed and breakfasts houses. Filling with love as they arrived, the empty space in my heart. Each bringing their quiet thoughts and memories along to ‘celebrate’ this good mans life.  We chatted and yes, we laughed into the evening , talking of fun times together just as if this beloved man was still sitting with us. We spoke of special dates, birthday, holidays, fun times at the beach, love filled that evening reception. The cosy warm rooms with food aplenty also warmed our hearts .

The day arrived for our final goodbyes.  Limousines were prepared, large shiny ‘ rooks of travel’  deliciously comfortable, mine  with a thoughtful small crystal glass of  brandy resting in holder to ward off the bitter cold. Nothing had been missed… nothing left to chance…

My mind seemed detached and yet clear ‘picture memories’ that will remain forever with me began to etched on my mind. My dearest daughter-in law thoughtfully bringing to my bedroom a soft linen handkerchief, the hugs of my two stalwart sons who seemed to be taking care of everything. I remember clearly a vision of my youngest son Jo bending to adjust  tenderly the tie of my Grandson Manu, resplendent in perfect little black suit, his sad dear  face and the hugs he gave me so often during the day, will never leave my heart. The Bells tolled across the village, calling all to this resting place.

The oh! so slow drive, carefully negotiated on ice covered lanes, the congregation filling the church, the prayers, the many readings, the just beautiful strains of  chosen music and hymns.  The overwhelming smell of  lilies and eucalyptus covering the casket,  brought tears to my eyes.

The guidance of our dear Reverend Avril, her clear voice fully in charge of proceedings but tear- filled eyes gave away this confident stance. The Stunning photo of Hamada, that our dear niece Ellie had skilfully had enlarged and had  propped against a tall glass vase of  more triumphant  white lilies for all to be able to see,our handsome man.

The splashes of mauve coloured scarves and beautiful arrangements of flowers lovingly prepared with special care caught my eye. The pink cheeks of my sisters who’s eyes showed such deep sorrow. Their dear husbands grieving for the loss of their much loved brother.

My body shook with grief as I heard the first rendering, the beautiful  Hymn “Abide With Me” the  clear delightful voice of Katherine Jenkins filling the air.Two strong hands from either side covered mine, it was enough.

Tears fell to the strains of “Ai giocco addio” from Romeo and Juliet the powerful voice of Luciano Pavorotti echoing against  the strong stone walls of this tiny ancient place, such a favourite of ours and played so often in our home.

The pride I felt at the words of  the five tributes, each perfectly clear and delivered with such compassion, each telling their own poignant story.

The words of the Eulogy read in perfect tones by my eldest Son Matt, containing only words that God could have guided his hand to write.  Telling  the most perfectly unique and complete story of our beloved Hamada. “ The days run away like wild horses over the hills”   continued to tell so much of  this dear mans life and then to finish his reading  with Khalil Gibran “The Springtime Of Love”  a poem found marked in one of  Hamada’s books. I shall keep Matt’s wonderful words safely by me for the rest of my days, they were so beautiful.

The village elder speaking in reply, with such love, support and total tenderness taking our breath away with his sincerity, and perfectly clear and powerful words of kindness his skilful reading of the ancient Psalm 23 .

The tears from everyone, as we gathered closely together and all sang along with Elton John “ Can You Feel The Love Tonight”

Some so moved that the words could not come, as the love surrounded and filled this tiny place. My dear girl friend’s face so wet, with such huge tears of sadness.

We sat in silence as Ray Lamontagne’s  beautiful guitar rift “ Truly, Madly, Deeply” gently filled our hearts.

The final:  Ray Lamontagne’s“ All The Wild Horses” completed this long farewell as everyone stood in honour.

SO many things I will remember from that God given day that allowed us to say our goodbyes,  to a perfect and much love gentleman. Youngest son Jo reciting a “Surah” in Arabic, his strong deep voice so much like his Father’s, clear in the bitter sun-filled air.

The family standing in resplendent smartness on crisp white snow as they threw their white roses of peace the long way down,  then the men – including our beloved Grandson – with hands full of dust  “dust to dust, ashes to ashes” never have I felt such love, love that surrounded these two days. Days that will never ever fade from my memory.

“May God bless you my Habibi and grant unto you eternal peace forever Amen”.

 

Photo of Lilies,cream roses,eucalyptus and banana leaves taken by Janey Johnson with thanks.

All Rights Reserved.

Gone To Live With God.

By

On November 23, 2010

In Health Issues, Multiple myeloma, Uncategorized

Susie's Birthday Weekend - Nov 2010 003

My beloved Hamada quietly and peacefully and with great dignity left us today to go home to be with God.

“Dear Universe a new angel has joined. He is handsome, caring, loving and a great symbol of courage and strength. His wings spread across the globe sincerely and lovingly touching the lives of many. His journey on earth has been an inspiration of courage to us all”

 

More messages of condolence on www.susiehemingway.blogspot.com  and shown also in comments here.

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