Keithy

It’s been a while since I have written; or shared anything significant as the world continues to bellow her white noise.

I have no computer nor blog page; no structure despite having an edited and formatted poetry manuscript of 100 plus pages.

I let my ego get away with me.

Death.

What a gnarly disease she is.

I have been surrounded by it.

My father’s sister.

Then my mother’s partner the next day unexpectedly in his sleep.

Visiting his daughter on the gold coast.

A massive cerebral haemorrhage.

Gone.

No warning signs.

No goodbyes.

He was Mr planner.

Everything happened before it even happened.

Aries fire.

He loved my mother.

All I know and care about is, despite being possessive he loved my mother.

He was a meticulous business man and being.

Properties all hand writtenly managed and my mother’s and his only daughter’s anchor man.

It is devastating.

Mum Had finally found her soul mate.

She was at ease in the world.

Had her faithful go to.

She had been living in a structured world; a bubble, touring here and there, fixing houses, helping friends, cooking, cleaning, walking, living a life together, supposedly forever.

It’s fucked really and I ought have more compassion.

Yet I left on unsavoury terms.

I cannot change this.

It rocks me and it hurts me and destroys me.

I feel it should have been me.

It nearly was me.

He called my mother pet, kept her open, tactile, alive, honest, daring, fun, fit and looked after her practically big time.

The guy was a genius yet despite being the man about town who knew everything about everything, and everyone, properties, the Aussie dollar and even random history of the Beatles and Monkeys, he departed the planet half done. Unravelling his beloveds, who will be left reeling for a long time to come.

I watch my mother, a robust classical woman drop in and out of being present.

She must be so exhausted.

She says from dreamy to organised to fragile and broken, a bit lost and alone yet strong and bubbly and organised and full of will.

It is a wave.

Never-ending.

A cycle
a web

who continues to weave

as i know she must now sleep and wake alone.
Pillows where he once snuggled.
Wondering when her anchor man will be back.

He’s not coming back.

In human form anyway.

The house is hollow and quiet.

And cold.

His hat’s and glasses lay everywhere.

His mail and folders no subtle reminder of his presence.
Meant to be here.

I watch my mother grapple with a bad dream taking 34 years to escape her last husband to then find paradise a large home and comfort with a man, who kind of, saved Her.
Her man. Her double for the last ten or so years.

They thought the same.

I want to be away from it.

I struggle to hear it all 24 7 especially as my own history is not great and I did not get to tell him what he meant and did for my mother
And even me.

I have never had that before.

I loved him.

I still do.

It is a hard one to bounce back from.

Mum would have chosen him and did over me.

And I guess that is ok.

Then there are recent suicides of seemingly capable famous people who had it all.

Money. Homes. Comfort.

I walk the poverty line and if anyone should be there on that edge cliff. It should be me.

I was told the universe will DO ANYTHING to keep the angels here

I was there. At the water. And got a message

Its urgent. Really urgent he said.

Fuck.

Oh no.

Not now.

My mother.
My mother.
My mother…

God no this is not how it was supposed to be.

My life will be no easier with a fragile mother. My only real family who has kind of, despite misunderstandings stuck by me.

Have you grappled with life and death ?

I have no children.

It makes it isolating.

I had an injury. A fracture. It impeded my ability to work.
My confidence. My health.

My place on this planet.

That depends on the mighty dollar.

My home. My vehicle. My life was stolen.

I am single.

The economy is shit and winter is coming.

I had my health.
This matters.

I had my yoga.

This also matters.

Like.mindeds and warmth.

To feel and not be numb by it all.

Matters

At the moment spending 90 percent of the time in a deathwish is shit.

I am a brilliant writer.

An exceptional mind.

A shit system player and useless business woman.

But brilliant feeling hands.

Touch of a God.

Reach out they say.

Google it.
Twitter it.
Facebook it.
Instagram it.

Phone iPhone iPad email it.

But for fuck sake don’t show your feelings or be vulnerable.

People want to know.

Yet like the boy who cried wolf.

They also don’t.

Its in the too hard basket.

Everyone has their problems.

Finances, high blood pressure, high sugar, gluten intolerant, dairy lactose free poison poison poison..

I have no words for the grief of the past few weeks.

When your loss is my loss.

He was not my lover nor father but he was someone’s I care about and I cannot do a thing to make it easier.

But step back and get away.

I need to get away

As right now my hearts a mess and the world keeps spinning with less time and no remorse.

May your day be kind

And if somebody speaks

And shows you their soul for the first time

Listen

Really listen

Not just to what they are saying

But what they are feeling and showing you

Walk away

But never walk away

I love you

Just wish I could love myself

Anna j.h

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