Friday, 23 November 2012


The room is still but for hum of the radiator. My back aches but I can't bring myself to move. After midday and still in bed, my mother's scolding disapproval rattles round my head. I'm too sad to move. I'm too sad to do very much at all these days, for grief is a relentless thief of time, energy and colour.

Since my father's death I watch the world, my world, as if on a cinema screen - it is flat, an illusion, and definitely make-believe. They all say 'it's a process', 'it will pass', and I suppose they are right, but the primal scream of loss in my head continues nonetheless.


David Thomson said...

Hello Glamourpuss, you'll hear people talking of the great healer. It's not just talk. It's not just a soothing thing to say. Time really is your heart's friend. My father passed away 18 years ago. I probably think about him most days, but now these thoughts generally bring a smile. I can hear his distinctive laugh in my mind. For me this means that he has life through me. Time will help. Live a life of smiles. Listen to those inner voices. To everything a season.

Glamourpuss said...

Thank you, David, for your kind words - they are very comforting. I truly appreciate you taking the time to comment.
Best regards