Grandma P's Ramblings Through Life

Not a turning point.
Life is rarely as dramatic as that.
But today I hit a point that feels like a turning point - that point when I have so much emotion about the fact that there is no turning back.
I have lost my husband.
I have somebody in the house  who creates anger and hate within me.
I wish that person would go away and leave me in peace.
Have I got to a point where I can't take much more?
It felt like that when I burst into tears in La Rusta cafe at lunchtime.
More tears later. And again.
When I first had cancer we were taught that there is a natural normal progression to the emotions experienced.
Maybe it is the same for me now.

I am not writing this now to extract sympathy. I know how everybody cares and feels for me.
Right now nothing that can change the 24/7 life with dementia that I have now is of very much worth to me.

I have resorted to poetry. Cancer did that to me too.
It is not good poetry - just words that have tumbled out of my brain, all higgledy piggledy.
The theme is The Shell Seekers - the title of a favourite book by Rosamund Pilcher.

I have been a shell seeker,
So often strolling a sunshine strand
To gather my ocean harvest,
Strewn in beauty along golden sand.

I have been a shell seeker,
Collecting the colours to please myself.
Flashing fingers encircle my shelly treasures,
Taking them back to my bedroom shelf.

I have been a shell seeker,
With no thought at all for life that once was.
My empty shells tell only of death,
Mournfully now I am touched by their loss.

I have been a shell seeker,
Regretfully now, I have the king of the pack.
The life in this shell is ebbing away,
Must loosen my grasp, but can't throw it back.

I have been a shell seeker;
Fear and anger merge with my salt water tears.
My man is my shell, empty and dying.
Life has become hollow after all these years.

I have been a shell seeker,
This giant is becoming too much to bear;
Need strength now to carry life forward,
Unsure of myself, losing love, losing care.