The Portal
This poem was written as a personal response to unanswered questions after the death of my step son-in-law.
This poem was written as a personal response to unanswered questions after the death of my step son-in-law.
Mother’s Day is really tough for any mummy who has experienced the loss of a child. One of the best ways to survive Mother’s Day is to prepare for it by anticipating and allowing for our emotions.
Inspired by research on Victorian post mortem photography and my reflections on baby loss in the contemporary world.
When I was sixteen I found an old coat in a charity shop. I took it home, adjusted it for size and virtually lived in it every winter for the rest of my teens.
When Uncle John died, we scattered his ashes on Ashdown Forest one cold but bright wintery morning.
My dad spent the last eighteen months of his life in a nursing home when he became too confused to live at home.
Stimulated from a writing exercise at University, this reminded me of my Grandma’s house and her skill with a needle.