Skip to main content

Lost Without You


Over twelve months ago I received a phone call to tell me a friend had been killed - he had been punched once in the face and was dead.  True I hadn't spoken to him for a few years: but the news was shocking.  I went to the funeral on my own, met with old friends and even my ex-husband, we discussed Rob and the kind of guy he was.  He was full of life, he was manic and a complete nutter; he was Rob, need we say more?

Lost Without You

 I am wandering aroundmy love
My head in a haze
Why aren’t you here
Filling up my days?

I miss you likedaylight in winter
And the summer sun
You are my soul mate
Forever the One

I am empty like aderelict house
Like a night withoutthe moon
You were taken tooquickly
Gone from me too soon

I miss you with everyheartbeat
Like I’d miss flowersin spring
My life will foreverbe
Missing one thing

The clocks keep onticking
But have no hands
How do I continue
Without my man?

Gone but notforgotten
For always this istrue
I remain here
Lost without you

I wrote the above poem on 1 November last year whilst thinking about Rob and his widow and what she must be going through - left in a foreign country on her own.  Her world was turned upside down - as were the lives of all of Rob's family.  Sadly Rob's death splintered the family (and friends) which I am sure is not what he would have wanted.

As with everything that happens in this life what I learnt from this episode of grief is that death should bring people together and not tear them apart.

The first anniversary came round and all I could still think was that we shouldn't grieve for those that die; for they rest in peace.  Instead we should grieve for those that are left behind; for we are left to pick up the pieces.  

RIP Rob Holland
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Thanks for commenting

Popular posts from this blog

100 Sad Days: Day 29 La La La

Not all abuse in a relationship is physical. Just like all illnesses are not obvious. Although they are "mental" it doesn't make them any less significant.   An Open Letter: Your words are often harsh and I let them float over my head. I know it's not you thinking. It's alcohol, it's tiredness, it's money, it's family, it's drugs, its work, it's whatever excuse I decide to label it with to move on. Sometimes they cut so deep. Putting small cracks in my heart that need love to  fill the gaps. When this happens forgiveness takes a little longer.  When it is constant the opposite happens and I pull down the shutters. I stop feeling. I stop caring. I am numb. This is when I want to never wake up.  And then there are the unforgivable things. The venomous words spat from your mouth. Not in anger. Not in rage. Just in hate and apathy.  What do I do with those?  Where do I go from there?
Post a Comment
Read more

Mum's Got Cancer; Part Four

Can we ask just one thing of you:- Please stop asking me how Mum is.  I know you mean well and you honestly do care; you want to know that she is ok: but we can't tell you that. In fact we are tired of having to repeat ourselves and remind ourselves that Mum isn't going to get better.  That this is it.  That we can't help her but can on;y make her comfortable. Maybe ask how I am, or if there is anything you can do, or just give us a hug.  Maybe just squeeze our shoulder and don't say anyhting.  If we want to talk, I promise, we will.  Sometimes, like my Blog, it is cathartic.  Other times it hurts in a way I cannot explain. The best thing to do is send a message, a text, an email, and if/when we feel like it we will respond.  Forgive us if we see you are calling and cannot take your call.  It is tiring, emotionally, to drag our way through a conversation we do not want to have. We know you care and we don't want to appear rude but...
2 comments
Read more

I Hate Smoking

Let's be honest: it's a mug's game. My main memories of my Granny are of her with a cigarette in hand, of being sent to the "cabin" to buy her mentholated Dunhill. Add to that the memory of my time with my Dad shared always with a cigarette - one after the other. Of the chorus of coughing in the mornings and of now watching him struggle, with COPD, knowing this is a terminal illness that was brought upon himself. Supposedly my Grandma died of old age (but i reckon it was the cancer that got her first) and despite my Dad giving up smoking over eight years ago the years of damage have taken their toll. I chose a path away from cigarettes and I don't mind telling people how stupid I think they are for smoking - friends, family, strangers. We are all touched by cancer at some point and I recently got the all clear after twelve long years of close attention. I am thankful that it was caught before I needed anything other than day treatment and b...
Post a Comment
Read more