Thirty Seven - Whoops I Did It Again

I've decided that my theme song just might be Brittany Spears' "Whoops I Did It Again". Not because I 'played with' someone's heart (as the lyrics go), but because I constantly seem to be doing stupid or questionable (such as 'have you lost your mind?' kind of questionable) things over and over again. Each time this happens, Brit appears before me, pointing her finger, wiggling her arse, sometimes she has hair, sometimes not, but always she's singing at me "Whoops I Did It Again", and she always has a devilish look on her face. Like she's enjoying the whole process.

Take this morning, for instance, when I got out of the shower, looked in the mirror and realised that this was yet another morning that I intended to wash my hair, and forgot - simply because I was watching the clock, frantic to get showered and ready before I got my Cherub up (read 'dragged him out of bed kicking and screaming') and ready for school.

As the oil from my hair almost literally drained away down my neck, in waltzed Brit, making a tsk tsk sound with her tongue, and following up with my theme song: "Whoops I Did It Agehhhn".

Close the front door without taking the house keys with me? "Whoops I Did It Agehhhn".

Stopped mid-sentence, forgotting completely what I was saying? "Whoops I Did It Agehhhn".

Referred to the cat by the Cherub's name and vice versa? "Whoops I Did It Agehhhn".

There comes Brit, in all her glory, following me around like some kind of creepy shadowy stalker, simply to rub it in when I mess up.....again.

And again.

And again.

And agehhhhn.

I am currently doing a liver cleansing detox (as those of you who have already read previous posts will know). I must say that I am going better on this than I thought I would. What I actually mean by that, is that I haven't COMPLETELY fallen off the wagon.

I had expected by now that I would have been very much over the healthy eating plan, but no, I am still plugging along, albeit at a lesser pace than I took it for the first two weeks. These were the weeks when I was almost obsessive about what I ate (or didn't), what I drank (or didn't), when I used the toilet for number ones (get out the book, write it down), or number twos (get out the book, write it down)....you get my drift.

What I realised was that I felt sooooo much better with my new eating plan, that it was something that I want to continue pretty much forever, so I am in fact still juicing every morning (and we're talking carrot, cucumber, broccoli, beetroot, kale, celery - none of which is mixed with citrus because that causes the enzymes to break down. Good, ain't I?) and still eating wholesome, raw food in the main. BUT....I am now having a few coffees each day (was ready to go postal without my caffeine fix) and am also having meat for dinner. And, once a week I have my 'breakout' meal, where I don't worry whether it's cooked or not, greasy or not, good for me or not!

But this is where I stop myself - one breakout meal a week, the rest 'mostly good'. I do feel better for it, and am quite proud of myself.

But, of course, every now and then one does indeed fall completely off the wagon. This was the case for me last week when I was on a week's holiday, and had a few days away with Glenn and my Cherub. Healthy eating? Screw that. No wine? Screw that even further. I was living it up with bakery treats each day, wine at night, roast meat/sausages on the barby for dinner, gravy, DESSERT - you name it, if I could find it, I ate it. And I didn't give a rat's razoo what it was.

And that's where that bitch Brit comes back into the story. Because when I first fell off the wagon while I was away, and was tucking into the pre-dinner nibblies of crackers and dips, that little cow came walking into the kitchen and stood by my table wriggling her arse and singing "Whoops I Did It Agehhhn". What a bitch. Not even letting me enjoy my time away from the day to day boring life (and food) that is my reality. Not even letting me just relax a little. She had to be there, rubbing it in, making me feel like I'd messed up yet "agehhhhn".

Thankfully, Joe Dolce followed close behind her, gave her a slap and said "Ah Shaddup Your Face!".

Hooray for Joe, that's all I can say.

Talk later

Janeane

Thirty Six - The Wedding

When I was a child
I was taught many things;
Show respect, blow your nose, wipe your chin.
And when a wedding's in Church
It's a sign of respect
To stand up when the bride walks in.

In this day and age
A church isn't a venue
That couples always pick to use.
There are gardens, and restaurants
And hot air balloons
And beaches where nobody wears shoes.

But I recently went to a wedding
In Church
Where the congregation celebrated
The joining of two people
Who love one another
And that day were 'officially mated'.

We were all sitting there
Checking watches - and at last
The bride entered in all of her glory.
I prepared to stand up
As a sign of respect
But the truth was a much different story.

It appeared that nobody
Had the same thought as me
As we shared that same day so complete.
Not one of those there
Not family, nor friends
Had decided to rise from their seat.

They stood for the hymns
And they stood for the prayers
Through sermons of Love (and of sin).
But I missed most of that
As I pondered just why
No-one stood when the bride walked in.

As we move through the Ages
We celebrate marriage
In many and multitude ways.
As far as the cost
(And these days it is huge)
There's conjecture on who actually pays!

Sometimes no white dress
No vows to obey
(I am glad that one got pushed aside).
But is the case now
That we don't show respect?
Do we no longer stand for the bride?

This tradition can't die!
If you're ever in Church
Sharing in a new life to begin.
Take the time, show respect;
On her one special day
Please stand up when the bride walks in.

Thirty Five - Detox update

Well, here I am on day four of the Liver detox, eating healthy food, drinking healthy veggie juices (home made now) and feeling pretty good.

I manage to get through my whole work day without a coffee (but still allow myself that one cup when I get home from work), drinking LOTS of water with lemon in it (both hot and cold), and doing alright in general really.

I am sleeping better, AND when I wake up in the mornings, I am not feeling sluggish or like I want to sleep for about six hours more.

I feel 'lighter', and although I am still suffering from some of that yucky abdo bloating that I get daily, it is nowhere near as bad, it has subsided significantly, and I am hopeful that it will one day be gone for good.

The food is quite good really - not hard to eat at all, the preparation takes a little longer than usual, but with a fridge full of fresh fruit and veg, it's at least all on hand, and I have found myself actually enjoying the food preparation because I know that what I am eating is actually good for me.

I have made one decision, however, and that is that Friday nights will be my 'break out' night. No, I won't be gorging myself on fish and chips or McDonalds, but I WILL be eating stuff that isn't exactly liver friendly. I figure that one meal a week won't kill me, but will probably in fact save me from giving up, because although I am doing OK, I do think that eating like this without a special treat would be a hard slog, and something that I wouldn't stick to. So tomorrow night I will be dining out with Scatters at the local pub - I am looking forward to some pork belly (specialty at The Union), but I do wonder whether I will be able to eat it all, as I think my stomach may be getting used to smaller quantities of natural, non fatty stuff.

My juicer arrived on Tuesday, as did my organic fruit and veg from the online organic shop mentioned in my previous blog. It was lovely to receive some nice, fresh produce (albeit a little expensive), and I have made a pledge to myself that I will continue with this as part of my detox. I think from now on I will buy their box of seasonal fruit and veg, I think that will work out better financially, and I feel that I now know the book well enough to be able to accommodate whatever they have put into the box (although I may need to ask them to substitute the spuds, you can't really have too many of those).

Yesterday I made my first juice - a mixture of carrot, broccoli, pineapple, grapefruit, apple and orange. I downed some after I made it, and kept the rest in the fridge for this morning.

Today my juice consisted of carrot, broccoli, pineapple, apple, orange, cateloupe and beetroot! It came out a beautiful deep pink colour (should have taken a photo!), and tasted just lovely. I'm actually looking forward to my veggie juice brekky tomorrow.

What have I learned so far?

Well, to start with, this natural food thing isn't that bad.

Secondly, tahini tastes best with a little bit of raw honey added (otherwise it can be a tad bitter).

Thirdly, the world doesn't end if you don't drink copious amounts of coffee (in fact, it feels less stressful - I haven't felt anywhere near as manic or stressed out this week).

Fourth, white tea is OK.

Fifth, hot water with lemon in it is OK - doesn't take long to get used to, and you can still share in the social moment of a 'coffee' at work.

And finally (and this is the most important thing I have learned so far) - one should never...NEVER...grate beetroot while still wearing one's work shirt.

Talk later

Janeane
x

Thirty Four - my detox experience

Having had enough of feeling like absolute crap (tired to the point of exhaustion, recurring anaemia problems, heart palpitations, tummy troubles,grumpiness, less-than-clear thinking amongst other things), I have decided that it's time for a detox.

Many years ago, when the Liver Cleansing Diet was at it's height of popularity, I undertook the experience of cleansing the ol' liver, and it actually did do me a bit of good. It's an eight week program, essentially eating as much unprocessed food as possible (in terms of it's availability, NOT eating as much as you possibly can!), cutting out the nasties such as coffee etc, and basically being kind to your liver to enable it to work better.

When I did the Liver Cleanser many years ago, I lasted four weeks.

This time around I intend to go the full yards.

So, today was my first day.

Started the day with a glass of water with lemon in it, followed by a glass of veggie juice. At the moment I am using V8 juice, which I purchased from the supermarket, however today my new juicer arrived, so from tomorrow onwards it's the real deal for me.

After the juice (and a break to have a shower) I got out the vitamiser (now there's a word you don't hear often these days!) to make the soy milk smoothie with strawberries, banana, pineapple and the magic mix - LSA (which stands for Linseed, Sunflower and Almonds - this is a high protein mix).

By the time I got half way through I was full, so I popped it into a container to drink at work during the morning. Which I did. Easily over time.

For snacks I had some raisins and some dried apricots - all good. Was coping 'OK' without the coffee, and drinking lots of water. Had a white tea when I would normally have had a coffee.

Was VERY proud of myself for not going NEAR the biscuit tin at work all day.

The water was obviously doing its job, as I spent a large amount of my time today in the Ladies room. Everytime I had to get up and 'go', I said to myself 'This is good, things are working, this is good.'

But then, at around 11am, the tummy rumbling started....and I don't mean from hunger.

'Whoa Nelly!!' my innards were very obviously saying to me. "WTF is going on HERE????"

They showed me their annoyance at being treated 'well' by grumbling at me, starting off softly, and gradually getting louder and louder. I could hear them getting together, saying "What has this BIATCH done to us today??", and just to get back at me, they decided to band together and twine themselves into such disarray that the pain was near on unbearable.

The embarrassment at having to continually head off in the direction of the bathroom was nothing compared to the pain I was in. Lunchtime came and went, there was NO eating for me, as I felt nauseated as well.

Hmmmm.....not sure whether this detox thing is working afterall.

Still, I comforted myself with the notion that this was possibly a reaction to my liver being in SUCH BAD REPAIR, that this was in fact a 'natural' reaction.

That comfort was only minimal, however, when an hour before hometime I decided to call it quits at the office and head on home (I hadn't managed a lunch hour due to being very busy today anyway). Yep, head on home to do whatever it took to make the excruciating pain go away.

Which was, in fact, to let go a few massive bottom belches - it was surprising how much relief I actually felt once this little act of agression had been carried out.

Still in a fair amount of pain, however, I haven't managed (or wanted) to eat any dinner, but have instead just had a couple of drinks of water with the lemon slices in it that are highly recommended as being very good for cleaning the liver out.

My juicer arrived at work today (did I already mention that, I am very excited), and my lovely organic fruit and vegies will arrive at work tomorrow, for me to take home and juice/combine into some lovely liver friendly concoctions. (by the way, I got my organics from Victoria Organic Delivery, my first time ordering anything Organic, let alone ONLINE, so I am pretty excited to see what arrives in my little box of goodies tomorrow. I am particularly looking forward to the cauliflower and broccoli, as one of the meals I'm having this week is a cauliflower and broccoli salad, a new taste sensation for me).

However, after day one of my detox, as I sit here and write my blog, I am now feeling a little less agonised by pain, having no doubt relaxed just a little because I'm at home, in the security of my own space and can fart whenever I damn well want to.

So, what have I learned so far?

1) When the instruction book says (and I'm paraphrasing here) that you can 'eat as much of the food as you like, because it's not the quantity, it's the quality that matters', this DOES NOT mean that you should 'prepare' for being hungry by eating heaps and heaps of whatever it is that you are having that day. Most likely, as this is pure unadulterated (mostly), raw food, it's going to make you feel great pain - and fart like Hec.

2) When the instruction book says (and again I'm paraphrasing) that you should 'stop eating when you are no longer hungry', it's probably a good idea to follow that instruction fairly closely.

3) I am my father's daughter, and find it hard to fart in any place other than the privacy of my own home/water closet. Not that I'm advocating breaking wind in public whenever and wherever you want to, however there are probably some discreet ways of doing this such as "I'm just going for a short walk to get some fresh air" or whatever. Today I even tried the 'out there' approach, by telling one of my colleagues that if I suggested she walk a few paces 'that way', it was probably because I was going to let one rip - even the 'up front and honest' approach didn't work for me, and the pain continued.

4) One should not go 'gung ho' at these things. Tomorrow, for example, I shall take it a little easier on the shake, may not even have one, and will lay up on the dried fruits as well. Might give the liver/stomach/bowels the rest they deserve after having been through such a tummultuous day.

5) I'm committed to this thing - despite the fact that I was in such pain, I now know that if I take it a little easier tomorrow, I will still be detoxing as I have intended, and I am in no way in a mindset to give it up. If I'm willing to continue tomorrow after today, then I'm obviously in for the long haul.

Do I feel any better today than I did yesterday? God yes, because I have stuck it out, even just for one day, knowing that tomorrow will be that little bit easier, and in the long run I will feel like a million dollars.

Or maybe a thousand dollars.

Or maybe one hundred.

Whatever, I'm sure that my physical reactions today have been normal for someone on this journey, and I'm not put off at all. But we shall see what tomorrow holds, shall we?

I'll let you know

Janeane
PS: I have caved in and had ONE cup of coffee this evening, but I have NOT eaten anything contraband, and I will not be eating anything after 6pm - did you know that your liver does its best work between 10pm and 2am? Well, I'm going to give it its best chance tonight.

Thirty Three - I won't let this ruin my life!!

Sometimes I find myself thinking about the challenges I face with a child on the autism spectrum, and I think to myself "I won't let this ruin my life!", with a grumpy, self pitying feeling inside, sometimes followed by a 'why me?' tinge deep in my soul. Previous posts will testify that sometimes I feel the need to vent these feelings, and yes, it does help to get it all out.

This week, being school holidays, I have been working from home (to a degree). Childcare costs me $100 a day, due to the fact that I can't just leave my Cherub 'with anybody', it has to be someone that knows him, knows his triggers, and can deal with issues if they arise. The fact that he also has epilepsy means that whoever is looking after him has the known added responsibility of a seizure happening at any given time (even though this is rare, it is always a possibility).

So, if I'm forking out for childcare during the school hols, I might as well not be working quite frankly. The summer holidays are also notoriously hard to find the people that I need to care for my Cherub, because most of them are on holidays themselves.

So, this time around I managed with the good grace and support of my workplace, to utilise technology and work from home. It's been easy to do, as I can connect to the database from home, still access emails, use my phone to call around the network to chase things up etc etc. The ONLY thing that I can't do is be there to answer the phone for the team so that they don't get interrupted.

Day one was interesting, I spent the whole day working from home, got heaps done, felt in control - until a tiny thing went awry, and I fell into a feeling of guilt that I was letting the team down. Undoubtedly, if I had been AT work, this wouldn't have happened. It wasn't a big deal, but it did highlight to me that maybe this working from home thing isn't quite what I thought it would be.

I should note here that for 18 months in a previous role I worked from home (as did my colleagues at the company that I worked for), and I suspect that I thought that it would all pan out as successfully as it did that time. However, what I have come to realise is that when EVERYBODY works from home, we all know 'the rules' - good communication, having a workspace at home that is your little office, acting just like we are all in the same place etc etc. Not a time to do your washing or cook the dinner for example (although it IS easy to do this on your lunch hour when you work from home, I must say).

But when only one person is working from home, and that person (me) has a set idea of how it will work, and it doesn't because we are not all on the exact same page.....well, it leads to a feeling of being a little out of the loop. This isn't a criticism of the other staff members of my team, it's just that we as a team are not used to one person being off site, so it gets a bit tricky. Or at least it feels like it does. As a result, I felt 'guilty' after one day, felt like I was letting the team down, like I wasn't supporting them as I should etc.

So, after day one I decided that I wasn't going to be working from home for the full days, that I would in fact go on site for the mornings, take my Cherub with me, sit him down with drawing materials, his DS, DVDs (there is a great telly at work) and a copious amount of sugar laden treats and do the majority of work from the office, working from home only for the afternoons (which in my job is the 'quieter' time of day when phone calls are not usually for me anyway).

First day of this went fine.

Second day of this went fine.

Third day of this did not go fine.

I was obviously being a bit selfish, trying to be all things to all people so that I didn't feel like I was letting anyone down (including myself, as I would prefer not to pay the $$ for childcare if I can avoid it, being a single mum and all that --note to babysitters if you are reading this: no, I will still be paying you, see reasons above, don't even offer freebies, you do a lot for me and my Cherub and you know that).

In my selfishness, I failed to assess the impact this chopping and changing might have on my Cherub, and yesterday showed me exactly how far I had pushed him. He did very well lasting as long as he did, but then something happened (I'm still not sure exactly what, as he has found it hard to explain completely, but it had something to do with a spider), and he lost the plot.

He ended up screaming and crying and hiding under the table in the staff room to be exact. Two staff members were leaving the room with looks of dismay on their faces as I ran to see what had happened, and there was my Cherub going completely off his nut, bum in the air and the rest of him under the table.

I managed to get him out and talk him (mostly) down, and it was very soon after this that we left for the day. Thankfully, the lovely AG, who has an autistic child, stood right by my side as I tried to bring my Cherub down from the eleveated state that he was in, so I had some support there at a time when I myself was feeling like the world was about to end and I should quit my job and just focus on my Cherub, because I need to put him (not me or my job) first, as I so obviously had not done this week - nothing like seeing your child screaming and hiding under the table to give you that slap in the face to say "You've not thought about him here, you selfish woman".

But then came the self pity. It didn't last too long, but it was there nevertheless.

And then came the defiance. "I WON'T LET THIS RUIN MY LIFE!!" I thought to myself as I sat at home looking at the computer, doing what I could but at the same time trying to deal with the outbursts from my Cherub, who was still coming down from his elevated state for the rest of the afternoon, then going up again, then coming down again, then going up again.....you get the picture.

Then I realised how stupid the "I won't let this ruin my life" thoughts are.

The very structure of that thought indicates that my Cherub is separate to my 'life', that he is some kind of outside influence that can or cannot push my 'life' one way or another.

My Cherub is a part of my life - part of my life is dealing with a kid with autism, whether I like it or not, and putting into place strategies that make our life as easy as possible. How dare I think of him as someone or something that can 'ruin my life'!!!! No no no no no!!!

I embrace him for the wonderful gift that he is.

Yes it's hard, yes it's difficult, but suck it up Lovey, just suck it up.

I have sourced a babysitter for a couple of days during the next week that I have my Cherub (I am sharing weeks with his father - who doesn't actually HAVE a job by the way - did I just say that out loud??), it's the best I could do, but it will take a bit of pressure off. (It will be very hard to take him back to the office now, he will hold on to that anxiety that he felt yesterday and is likely to elevate again - this I have learned from experience). On those days I will go into the office and work from there, and won't be letting anyone down.

On the other days I have decided that I will not try to be all things to everyone, I will simply do my best and work from home. There are only three days now that this will need to happen. I will go to the office to transfer files that I will need to transfer, but we will only be there to do that and nothing else. The rest I can do from home.

I will start putting a little extra money away each pay so that I can afford the babysitters when the time comes for the next school holidays. I will go the boy scout route and I will 'be prepared'.

There is no need for my Cherub's autism to 'ruin my life' - it is a part of my life, and I will work around it.

Talk later

Janeane
x

Thirty Two - Losing part of my childhood

This hot weather has got me to thinking about my childhood, and the recent loss of one of its pleasures.

As you know, I am currently living in the family home as a result of the passing of my father three years ago and a condition of his will being that my Cherub and I live here for ten years to get back on our feet financially.

For the past three summers, I have lived as I did when I was growing up in this house, and living through those Melbourne summers where we'd have three or four consecutive days of 40+ degrees.....and no air conditioning.

My parents were very anti air conditioning, their reasons on the surface were the expense and what I call the 'having a pool in Melbourne' mindset - you buy one and then use it for such a small portion of the year that it's hardly worth having. Of course, in relation to air con, this mindset extends further to become 'you buy one, and then use it for such a small portion of the year AND it costs a fortune to run, so it's hardly worth having'.

I suspect, however, that underneath it all was a realisation that having air con takes away one of life's great pleasures, and having recently had air con installed here to help cope with the heat, I am myself now missing the same life pleasure.

My parents were not big beach people. To them the beach was for throwing in a line to catch some fish, not necessarily for having a swim. So, unlike many of my childhood friends, my summers were not spent in a caravan at the beach, making the long trek to places like Rosebud, Rye or Torquay (and in the seventies and eighties, particularly because I never got to go there, these places did hold a certain place in my imagination as a place of fun, sea, sand, surf and small amounts of envy of the friends that made the annual summer trek to these places).

My summers were spent at home (parents usually working), often on my own, watching the cricket on the television, sweltering it out in our concrete/fibro commission home in downtown Fawkner, with only a couple of fans to see me through. Later, in the eighties, as part of a minor renovation, we had ceiling fans installed in the loungeroom and main bedrooms. (Apparently they turn both ways, depending on what way you turn the switch, thereby allowing them to push the warm air from the gas heater down through the room during winter - but I have never been able to work out which way is which).

What we came to discover (and what many people with ceiling fans will also attest to), is that the fans work well when you first turn them on, but after consecutive days of hot weather, they really only circulate the already hot air inside.

This is the time that a bit of enterprise is required - jumping in the shower every hour, not drying off, putting minimal amounts of clothing on, and sitting directly under the fans works a treat, and is something I learned to do growing up and have since taught my Cherub.

But, while I never got to experience the 'joys' of the beachside holiday, I had my own personal childhood special moments during the summer. This was in the evening, when the temperature outside would drop significantly, and we would open every door and window in the house to let the cool breeze flow through.

As the hot afternoon turned to evening, I would pop my head out of our dark house (all curtains closed to keep as cool as possible) to see whether the 'cool' had arrived. Once it did, I'd tell Mum, and around we would go, opening everything up. Then, it was outside with a cool drink of water, on the back or front step, simply sucking up the relief of the cool breeze.

It was especially beautiful when a cool change with rain came through - I would run out and let the rain soak through my hair and my clothes to help my body temperature lower and the relief ride over me.

These cool changes, especially after a run of several hot days, were the only time that I saw my mother be 'un-ladylike'. Many people would not believe this of her, but once that cool change came through, and her jobs for the day were done, she would crack open a cold beer (always poured into a glass), and sit on the back steps in a pose that you would only think a man would make (elbow on knee, legs sprawled out all over the place) and gently savour that amber fluid as she spent her own time enjoying the change in the weather.

It was a special feeling to be able to sit by our front door or loungeroom windows and just feel that cool change on my face. Quite frankly, it almost made the horror of the hot weather disappear from memory, and I knew that finally I would be getting a good night's sleep.

Now, with the air conditioning installed, this feeling is at risk of being lost. I'm very grateful, of course, for not having to withstand another summer of sweltering in this concrete palace of mine, but something inside of me thinks that maybe, just maybe, this was another reason that my parents were so hesitant to put air con into our house - they were wise enough to know that with the installation of the technology, came a loss of a childhood memory that maybe they just didn't want to lose, and possibly even wanted us to experience for ourselves.

Well, I shall romaticise it that way anyway.

And I will also admit to turning the air con off a little earlier than needed yesterday, letting the house warm up just a tad, and opening up the windows and doors to let the breeze be pushed through by the ceiling fans when the time was right. It wasn't the same, but I guess it was close enough.

Thirty one - a poem for my Dad

Look at you, see your smile
As I come through the door.
A new life and part of your world.
Look at me, oh so tiny
Such challenges ahead
Your ‘Bub’, your last little girl.

Look at me, I’m a child
As you come home again
At the end of a hard working day.
Look at you, the provider
Though hugs may be scarce
You work hard, you provide, that’s your way.

Look at me, I’m a teenager
Full of angst and of worry
With my anger and all of my tears.
Look at you, you’re bewildered
You simply can’t explain
Why I’m like this in my middle years!

Look at you, see the fear
As you look at your daughter
When she tells you she just wants to die.
Look at me, I am sorry
I wish I could change it
But I can’t, and continue to cry.

Look at you, see your strength
And you pass it towards me
And you help me come out from the black.
Look at you, you’re so wise;
In another direction
You point me, and set me on track.

Look at us as you walk me
On my special day
When I go to become someone’s wife.
Look at me, so relieved
When you tell me it's OK
That I ended that part of my life.

Look at you, you are angry
(It is seeded from love)
And you just cannot understand why
The daughter you love
Has a son who is different.
You’re confused but continue to try.

Look at me, as I sit
And I ponder the past
I remember the times that we’ve had.
I think of the future
(How you’re bound to annoy me!)
A complex thing – ‘Daughter’ and ‘Dad’.

Look at you, you’re so ill
As I wipe down your forehead
In the last days you spend on this earth.
Look at me, I’m bereft
For it’s now that you’re gone
That I truly realise all your worth.

Look at us, as we search
Through the old photographs
And I try to impart what you knew.
Look at him, at your grandson
I very much mourn
That they years he had with you were few.

Bur because we are yours,
Ours are yours, theirs are yours;
With each name that we add to the roll,
For ever and ever
And long after that –
Your descendants will carry your soul.