In October 2019 Ted and I flew to join Siobhan. We desired to support her in her grief. We walked the beaches together. Four months earlier, her eldest son, Saren, who was 22 years old died in a freak accident in the mountains, doing what he loved.
Little did we know.
Three months later, our youngest son, 30 years old, was killed by a bullet. A freak accident, while hunting with friends, doing what he loved. This time she flew to support me in my grief. Geordie.
Little did we know.
Then, less than two months later, the pandemic sent us into isolation. In the isolation of the pandemic, she wrote. Today, her poetry is published. Unobservable: Poems of Grief and Grace. Inside the cover: Dedicated to Saren.
I flip open the book, and I see my name. She wrote about us. She wrote about learning to speak “his” name. She wrote this for me.
UNSOUGHT WISDOM
Siobhan Westrop
For Kath
your eyes found mine found yours
with forced glance to see the unthinkable
arms legs knees hands bodies crumbled
shook the ground weeping over
and under the lead weight of unbearable
a meeting
in our motherhood
train wreck loud
your tears drowned mine drowned yours ours
bound for unstoppable
then
as snowdrops push bravely
through the damp black
of January
you made room
wide and unimaged you spoke their names
You invited me in.
Writing can be a healing way to adapt to our losses, to grieve.
Poetry can communicate with power what cannot be expressed in narrative writing.
This book of poetry follows some of Siobhan’s journey, but it speaks to me of my journey. Can you relate?
Over the past few years, I participated in an online support group for parents who had experienced the death of an adult child. One of the themes that was often spoken of was the difficulty when people did not understand the pain of the person who was grieving. The wisdom that was shared by the parents was something like, “how nice that they have not experienced the death of a child, and therefore, do not understand”.
In this next poem, Siobhan writes of the time in her life, and the time in others’ lives, when the heart is “intact” and when understanding is not there.
CHOOSING YOUR REINCARNATION
Siobhan Westrop
I used to walk through cemeteries
as if it were nothing–
nothing significant,
as if it were only a serene place–
somewhere to sit
and hear golden leaves fall, sun on my face.
I don’t have to hate the person I used to be
in order to pity the human
I have become,
though I would go back
in an instant. Immediately. God.
Gods.
Godly. Create again.
Come again, let me be.
I ache
for that careless woman
passing by–
heart intact, let her be.
On finding a poem that might fit for you
A while ago, I received a message from my dear friend, Antoinette Oberg, a writer, educator, researcher, and person with great heart. She describes picking up a book of poetry, she writes, “and, without reading a table of contents, I open to exactly the poem that is most meaningful to me, and that I know I am intended to read.”
I wonder if you might find the poem that is most meaningful to you.
And if poetry does not speak to you… next month I am going to share one of my favourites, delightful, easy reads, full of wisdom, insights, love and joy.
Warmly,
Kath
Connect with Siobhan at siobhanwestrop.poetry on Instagram
