Friday 12 October 2012

Make Me a Memory Box

In the corner of my room
sits a box
full of your shoes
On the shelf rests another
full of your cards
From me to you
and you to me
Mixed with those other ones
From that day when you went away
I keep t-shirts, films, and photos
A blanket, sheets, and trinkets 
All hold meaning
These things elicit memories
Memories I'm terrified of losing
I know how memory fades
No matter how hard we cling to it
Time marches on
Life sweeps us up
and I get stuck in the day to day
Those memories that used to play on my mind
like a film on repeat
They're further away now
I have to stretch further to reach them
so keep these things
But oh,
If you could make me a memory box
full of all the places we visited
crammed tight with all the sites of special memories
packed to the rim with bars, cafes, restaurants
that corner, round from the tube 
where we kissed like teenagers
The room where you said 'I love you' for the first time
The bar where we met
The table we sat at, where you told me
your friends were already planning the stag do
when we'd only been together a short while
The phone that held the text that said 
'tonight we were talking about fate
and I thought of you' 
If only a camera could access my mind
extract my memories and make me a memory box
filled with the film of all the flashes of you
that pass through my mind
like lightening
Make me a memory box
to catch all the thoughts of you
that sieve through my fingers
so fast I can't keep hold
You're drifting away from me
like a balloon in the sky
Is this really it?
Is this all I get?
A box of your things

1 comment:

  1. I stumbled across your blog, and now have begun to read it in it's entirety. You are a gifted writer, and I am so glad I found you, glad that at your young age you have managed to put a great deal of perspective and light onto the grieving process. This last entry, "Make Me a Memory Box" touched me to my very soul. I am 2 3/4 years out with the sudden, unexpected death of my darling husband, who died right next to me in our bed (now sacred ground) - and it was while both he and I were in remission - him with a rare blood of the bone marrow, then just a bit under 18 mo. of his diagnosis, I was diagnosed with ST IV metastatic cancer. 6 weeks after he died, I was diagnosed with another cancer, uterine that was metastatic to the cervix. We were so happy being in remission - we grabbed onto our re-invented life and lived it with gusto. I am still in remission with both cancers, but at times I am completely ambivalent, a situation I know you must understand. The memories, especially the sensory ones are slowly fading and it makes me so despondent knowing I can no longer recall what it felt like to be held in his arm, cannot recall in my mind his wonderful, sexy voice, how his lips felt on mine when we kissed, have lost the memory of his touch, and his uniquely, intoxicating manly scent. It's like I am losing HIM all over again, and so the mourning of these losses are so very painful. I felt your poem was like a prayer - so I think I will go back and read it again and again. I am so very sorry that your P died, but I am sure he really is so very proud of you. I send you waves and waves of comfort and light and love to help you through this awful thing called Widowhood. Love, Karen

    ReplyDelete