The poem below was written by my daughter Lucy, in the week my husband, her father, passed away after many years of suffering from dementia. I would so like you to read these heartfelt words with which perhaps some people may identify.
Educe, Tuesday
Seeing you today was like seeing you for the first time.
I saw your past, in me, as I held your hands.
You reached out to touch your memories
gently caressing clarion air
through age-bruised fingers.
My hair in ringlets-to you part of an animal, a cat, a bear
All your life in cloudy eyes,
the searching look of wonderand primal trust,
Where are you? And who?
But you still know me.
You can hear me.
I am brought to my knees
as I hold on to you, who is me.
In elements and sands-
collective nouns
and up at dawn chorus;
twinkling stories,
finely raucous.
My gentle man,
who will never be bettered.
Educe, Tuesday
Seeing you today was like seeing you for the first time.
I saw your past, in me, as I held your hands.
You reached out to touch your memories
gently caressing clarion air
through age-bruised fingers.
My hair in ringlets-to you part of an animal, a cat, a bear
All your life in cloudy eyes,
the searching look of wonderand primal trust,
Where are you? And who?
But you still know me.
You can hear me.
I am brought to my knees
as I hold on to you, who is me.
In elements and sands-
collective nouns
and up at dawn chorus;
twinkling stories,
finely raucous.
My gentle man,
who will never be bettered.
