Carry that weight
At the appointed hour
quiet men arrive
dressed in dark suits.
.
Us
your family
a cornucopia of colour
awaiting.
.
Your body in a bamboo box inside a black carriage pulled by a pair of teal-plumed white horses.
.
The slow drive behind.
Our children clasping wild flowers.
.
How much does a limo cost daddy?
Let’s guess the name of the horses.
I think the one of the left is called Little Jimmy.
.
A church bursting at the seams.
.
The care with which these big men of your life carry you down the aisle.
.
You call me out upon the waters
The great unknown.
.
The tearful nods of your people our people as I follow behind that say
You’ve got this
and
We’ve got you
and
We stand
Together.
.
Bitter-sweetness.
.
I once was lost
But now am found.
.
Strong women
speak you into the room.
.
Memories of matching clothes
and piles of profiteroles.
Simply the best.
.
Boy
You’ve got to carry that weight
A long time.
.
The love that brought you into the world
shared by she who bore you.
Love that never ends.
.
It was forecast to rain today.
It doesn’t.
.
I’ve seen sunny days
That I thought would never end.
.
I read what I wrote.
A force forever.
.
Not enough.
But all that I have.
.
I’m a man
because you taught me to be one.
.
Too soon
it’s time.
.
Take me to the sea, my love.
Take me home.
.
As your body is borne out
suddenly I smile
remembering
my one
indulgence.
.
Now I
Have had
The time of my life.
.
You laugh.
.
Trite
if it wasn’t true.
.
And so
the curtain comes down
on your final production.
.
Afterwards I am held
by hundreds.
Heart to unique heart.
.
These magnificent people.
.
While the kids and their friends pile into the limos
waving us off like royalty.
.
I feel fortitude and feebleness.
A wave
inside a glass bottle
falling from a great height.
.
While we gather over
sandwiches and sorrow
friends sharing fond memories
your body begins the simple process of protein interchange.
All that your death would mean
were it not for
love.
.
I wake up this morning
and spend all day
waiting for you to come home.
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On Coping is my story of surviving on the sidelines of cancer. It begins in 2022 with On Coping #1, written the day after my 41st birthday. The day my wife Imogen, the mother of my three children, was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. It’s the story of what happened next. Read from the start.
George, thank you, once again, for expressing so eloquently those moments that we jointly shared on Friday. You have such a gift. Your eulogy was - and now I’m searching for the correct word - everything. And you so deserved the continuing applause as you returned to your seat. I didn’t get to speak to you as, quite rightly, you were swamped with the love of those around us all. But please know that I will hold you and your children in my heart always. Imogen is (can’t use ‘was’) such a special joy and I feel honoured to have been a small part of her sparkling life. Take care and much love xxx