Posts Tagged ‘Death’

In mind of my father, I would like to say: [Poem follows]

December 8, 2013

This is a piece of work I  have written in memory of my father, who died just over a year ago.  I have been grieving over the loss of him since his death, but for the first few months I was so busy organising the funeral and dealing with family conflicts viz his will, and liaising with my sister over the house & contents sale that followed his death that I didn’t begin the popularly understood phases of it until the spring this year.

When the fire burns will you cool me down; Will you love me enough to be there, still love me when I'm cool when I'm cool too?

When the fire burns will you cool me down; Will you love me enough to be there, still love me when I’m cool (!) too?

Then later on, nearer to the first anniversary of his death and burial, but before the estate had been divided, ‘case closed’, I entered a different ‘hypo-manic’ phase of grief.  I recognised the signs and resolved to remain mindful for fear of a full ‘relapse’  due to (unresolved) trauma and grief, and I relied on friends to help me to learn to take control of this little beast, – the adrenalin driven ‘depression with severe anxiety’ which appears to psychiatrists as colourful symptoms of ‘early stage onset’  of ‘hypo-mania’ which might be treated by daily visits and drug popping but no case for involuntary hospitalisation if at all unless hyper-mania is suspected to be imminent.

Janie beng very zany - and not in a good way : it just gets toooo much!

Janie beng very zany – and not in a good way : it just gets toooo much!

Family names are different. To some family members it is ‘here are early warning signs – what can I do to help’ . To others it is ‘she’s effing mad as apeshit, and as crazy as a box of frogs’ and then exasperation and impatience, even intolerance ensue. Other friend’s are patient and accepting and nurturing – that’s the best medicine of all.

That my dad and I were and are ‘classic and colourful cases of bipolar disorder (class 1)’ we both know. He’s gone now, but I hear him (no not literally, calm down) laughing. I’m still here.  I miss him dreadfully but I’m far from done with my little spot in ‘heaven on earth’. I’m creating a chilling space out of what is yet a house I’m hiding in; it’s going to be the palace of my life and loves.

Even alone sitting in my own house, houses either side of me, one of them audible and connected: I can get to feel claustrophobic. Especially when one of them’s connected all down one side. So -I’m gonna keep some of my wild patch amongst the apple and plum trees just as it is. Then beside it I’ll have a ‘the shed’:  a place for chilling while I work, rest and play,  ‘away from the madding crowds’.

It’s where I will go when I want to get:-

At Rest, Mindfully.

At Rest, Mindfully.

In mind of my father,

I would like to say:                                                                      [Poem Follows:]

Dad Formal & Serious

Dad Formal & Serious

My father’s not going,

my father’s not gone:

He  was never much in –

though  nature gave

him that clefted chin,

those ice blue eyes;

that laziness in his swing

That swung in everything  –

Including the drumming

And the piano blasts

All singing All smoking

All singing, All smoking

And the music that jazzed

Wherever he was.

He is a swinger, a jazz man,

An artist of soul

Who mere mortals judged

And pilloried

When the shit hit the fan

inner pain, outer glimpse

inner pain, outer glimpse

And that’s music too,

A story of love,

And Tragedy-

Comedy,

His Labours of Love:

Jainey in a very zany pose - her dad was never photographed when off his nut lol

Jainey in a very zany pose – her dad was never photographed when off his nut lol

He loved too much, too deeply,

For the tall proud swan,

Though not enough,

as a cash-flow king,

For the one who took her place:

Cute little kestral

Cute little kestrel

Who was a cute little kestrel ,

Beady-eyed, who doubted

this Cash-Meister big-time.

So she curled up,

in disappointed fear,

Something to grip onto for dear life and death

Something to grip onto for dear life and death

Around the cash that was left –

And wouldn’t part with it.

Leaving him lonely.

And that was the nub of it.

the ultimate cause of the heartbreak.

His Acute yet prolonged Despair

His Acute yet prolonged Despair

The true love of his life was music:

Cameras, cash & women came

a close-run second to that.

But  his fatal addiction

was women..

Though his appetite for

Savile Row rags,

Handmade Italian shoes

and his Frank Sinatra hat,

showed a passion for finery

Be yourself:- a beautifully ridiculous genius.

Be yourself:- a beautifully ridiculous genius.

That needed cash

that wasn’t made quite right.

You could see it

In the way he smoked  his fags

–           It was his critical weakness point:

That cute, possessive little kestrel with her eyes on the look out for his wanting any cash.

That cute, possessive little kestrel with her eyes on the look out for his wanting any cash.

When that went, too

He lost the taste for living,

and found the air too stale to breathe.

So, while no-one

continued to listen,

Got trapped & killed at Depression Stage; NHS & Charity partly responsible according to Janie Greville.

Got trapped & killed at Depression Stage; NHS & Charity partly responsible according to Janie Greville.

He fucked off

to the bar

(in the sky).

You’ll find him there still:-

Dad's safest where he is just now...

The gate-way to heaven above, bouncers below keeping the masses out. Dad at the bar near the piano & drums, probably chatting with Doll.

In peace – at last!.

For Anthony Pierre Greville, Born 14th July, 1930 – Died 4th October 2012.

His  spirit was purified by Sept 28th at the latest; his spirit was released during a private family service about three weeks later.

His spirit was purified by Sept 28th at the very latest; his soul was released, during a private family service, about three weeks after his death.

This entry, like all published in this site to date,  is the intellectual property of MissionMiraculus Ltd., and in particular all the copyrights of its contents belong to ‘J.Knee Operations Ltd’ . Anyone else who is invited to write for this site will keep their copyrights intact with a contract with MissionMiraculus &/or ‘J.Knee Ops Inc’  in relation to it’s publisher rights.

This  piece December 7-8th, 2013

Steve Jobs Inspires Us Still

November 15, 2013
Janie in 2009

Janie in 2009

Well, we haven’t dropped by to update you of late, and we don’t want to update you yet lol. But we DO want to inspire you!  And we can’t think of a better way to do that than to send you to a video of Steve Jobs addressing some graduates from Stanton University, USA back in the ‘noughties’.

We, by the way, are ushering in the ‘naughties’ – sounds the same, feels a bit naughtier, lmao.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gO6cFMRqXqU

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