ME TOO! by Liz Manning

 My lovely mother in law died recently. In response to that, and short of the usual family coming together in the current circumstances, I wrote a poem called Lockdown Funeral Blues.

In times of acute pain, writing poetry becomes my ‘go to’. A month after my mum died, I wrote this:

 

THE DAY BEFORE MOTHERS’ DAY

Today was hard.

Eyes assaulted by bouquet displays,

Banner announcements, chocolates, cakes,

And menu ideas.

Who knew

Walking into a supermarket

Would be like

Walking into an ambush

Of everyone else’s impending celebration?

Momentarily I clutched the wall,

As if punched in the sternum,

Chest tight, fighting for breath,

The claustrophobic cacophony

Obliterating my ability

To choose a curry for tonight’s dinner.

I turned and forced myself

To concentrate on an Easter display instead

But the unsaid noise was deafening.

I had to escape

From all this anticipation and appreciation,

My own love overspilling

With no one to receive it,

Directionless,

Wasted.


When we made the dreaded decision to move my dad into a care home because he was no longer safe in his own flat, my anger at his condition produced this (with apologies for the language):

 

THIEF

You thief

You carpet puller

You destroyer of decision making

You muscle mugger

You time twisting swindler

You independence robber

You memory hijacker

You hunger punk

You home burglar

You safety pilferer

You peace plunderer

You stealer of my father

You b*****d dementia

You b*****d.


I wonder if you also find it easier or helpful to write when in pain? Or perhaps when in any high emotion? This resulted from my son’s graduation:

 

GRADUATION

Sometimes the heart is so full

there are no words.

Sometimes the heart is so full

it can only be expressed in an open mouthed O of wonder.

Sometimes the heart is so full

love threatens to charge out your chest overflowing your mouth with silence.

Sometimes the heart is so full it hurts

and the only route available for the ache to spill out is tears.

Sometimes the heart is so full

that cheering, whooping, clapping seem utterly inadequate.

Sometimes the heart is so full

that no one can see how proud I am of you.

Sometimes the heart is so full

there are no words.


At Boys’ Brigade, we play a game at the beginning of the year when new boys have joined. Sat in a circle, we take it in turns to stand up and say something about ourselves, like “I like football” or “My favourite colour is red”. Then everyone for whom the statement is true, jumps to their feet and shouts, “Me too!”

When I wrote about my dad’s dementia, I noticed that a very old school friend started reading and commenting on my posts. We reconnected after more than 40 years. Because her father had dementia too. When we both lost them, we reached out again, knowing that the other knew how it felt.

I sometimes think that is the point of writing, at least publicly: to stand up and reveal something true so that others can identify with it and respond, “Me too”.

And even more so for Christian writers. Because isn’t that what God did when He sent Jesus? Isn’t He our “Me too!”?



Liz Manning fits writing around being an Occupational Therapist, BB captain, wife, and mum to two adult sons. Or perhaps it's the other way round. She blogs regularly at https://thestufflifeismadeofblog.wordpress.com/


Comments

  1. I couldn’t agree more. Writing is a way for us to deal with pain and to acknowledge the pain of others. Thank you for your honesty.

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  2. Thanks Liz. My Dad died in dementia 7 years ago and I lost Mum during Covid lockdown. Both went into care homes. Heartbreaking. I wrote an angry Psalm about Dad's situation and my struggles to cope ...... Might publish it one day – if I have the courage!

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    Replies
    1. So sorry to hear that Eileen. Here's to being heartbroken, angry, and honest though!

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  3. I only write poetry from a place of strong emotion, I've discovered. So far, it's mostly been anger and grief. I've only ever shared one of them so I take my hat off to you. I was nodding and saying "Me Too" to your poems, not because I've had those particular experiences myself, but because I recognise the emotion. Sending you lots of love.

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