I feel the same he was and still is my world, I will always be Mrs and always be his wife and he my darling husband. There is nothing I wouldn't do to have him back here beside me.
Good Morning Saturday 13th June 2026
I feel the same he was and still is my world, I will always be Mrs and always be his wife and he my darling husband. There is nothing I wouldn't do to have him back here beside me.
Lovely poem vegansrock thank you for sharing.
Mystyeyes it is 2 years on Tuesday since my husband died. His headphones, pen, phone and iPad are by his chair. All his clothes where they always were. Razor and comb in the bathroom. Like you it comforts me. I too go from room to room touching his things. Telling him I love him. Holding his clothes to my face. H is in my heart and I carry him with me everywhere but this is our home. Our place his things where they belong.
Mystyeyes11 ๐๐
A lovely, deep and thoughtful poem .
My DH passed just over 12 weeks ago, everything his still as he left it glasses, slippers, walking stick and lots of other bits i have filled the house with many pics of him smiling as i go from room to room it gives me great comfort to feel his presence and his stuff will renain so, his spirit is here so should his stuff be, he was my world and still is .
Astitchintime
Not silly at all Franbern, just your way of keeping cherished memories close to your heart ๐๐
My mother died over 50 years ago before the arrival of phones that store numbers. When she was alive, we didn't phone regularly. But I can't tell you how often I got the engaged tone because at the very same instant, she was calling me; and vice versa. Telepathy was just a thing among some of our family.
For maybe 20 years after she died, in my dreams we still occasionally phoned each other for a chat, just like when she was alive. Never mentioning death; she was just somewhere else, and still up for the kind of long funny gossipy conversations we'd always enjoyed. I liked still having that erratic contact . As long as it lasted. The dream calls became rare then stopped, and ...mostly... so has telepathy with other people.
Franbern
That is lovely. How beautifully expressed.
I can remember, when my youngest child died, aged 25 years, I kept his name and phone no. on my phone - it felt somehow that by doing that I was keeping a little part of him. I think I kept it there for many years. Silly really, but each time I looked wat deleting it I could not bring myself to do so
Franbern, that's not silly, if it gives you a bit of comfort then there's nothing wrong with that, my mum died 30 years ago and I still have the last birthday card she sent me, every time I have a clearout, I can never bring myself to through it out.
Iโd read this poem long before I was in position to know its relevance to me now. It moved me then, especially the last two lines, and now it breaks my heart.
Oh that is such a beautiful and moving poem.
My best friend from infant, junior and secondary modern school died on 16th December after a long and gruelling battle with MS and illnesses.
We lost touch when we left school. Lots of different reasons on both sides which we both regretted. Never lose touch with friends.
I got back in touch back in 2007 and we had some lovely long chats on the phone because I live 200 miles from her. We used to meet up whenever I got the chance.
Poor lass had been bedridden for the past 5 years and I didnโt get to see much of her because she was very susceptible to catching illnesses.
Itโs her funeral on 15th January 2026 which just happens to be her birthday. I canโt make it but I will be talking to her and my mam at the crematorium gardens of remembrance.
Iโve just put together an email for her. She is deep in my heart.
My message on my flowers will be: Two girls cartwheeling across the village green forever.
Beautiful poem and so very sorry for your sad loss Franbern.
I have an address book still filled with the address' of many relatives who have died long ago.
I cannot bring myself to cross the names out.
This has brought tears to my eyes. Franbern, there is nothing silly about it. Thankfully we have never experienced the pain of the death of a child. Our beloved SIL died a few years ago , I still have his number in my contact list and have all the whats app messages from him . Thinking of you and all those who are bereaved. ๐ผ๐น๐
Not silly at all Franbern, just your way of keeping cherished memories close to your heart ๐๐
Franbern
That is lovely. How beautifully expressed.
I can remember, when my youngest child died, aged 25 years, I kept his name and phone no. on my phone - it felt somehow that by doing that I was keeping a little part of him. I think I kept it there for many years. Silly really, but each time I looked wat deleting it I could not bring myself to do so
Nothing silly about it.
So sorry you lost a child. ๐ข
Oh that is so moving, when my dear sister died two years ago I also kept her number on my phone and still have her on WhatsApp, a profile pic of her smiling broadly with her arm around my shoulders greets me every time I go on WhatsApp.
This made me tear up.
That is lovely. How beautifully expressed.
I can remember, when my youngest child died, aged 25 years, I kept his name and phone no. on my phone - it felt somehow that by doing that I was keeping a little part of him. I think I kept it there for many years. Silly really, but each time I looked wat deleting it I could not bring myself to do so
Such a moving poem and so relevant to many. An elderly aunt of mine was bereft when her husband died quite suddenly. They ran a little corner shop together, a bit like Arkwright's in Open All Hours, and had no children. They spent every hour of their lives with each other. Until she died many years later my Uncle's shaving brush and toiletries were in the bathroom and his favourite boiled sweets in a dish by his armchair. It gave her some shred of comfort.
How crass and callous Serena whatever to latch on to a thread about bereavement with your spam
You should be ashamed.
Oh vegansrock thatโs such a touching poem.
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Very moving.
Tony Harrison 1937-2025
A great poet, playwright and human being. I wanted to share his poem on bereavement.
Though my mother was already two years dead
Dad kept her slippers warming by the gas,
put hot water bottles her side of the bed
and still went to renew her transport pass.
You couldn't just drop in. You had to phone.
He'd put you off an hour to give him time
to clear away her things and look alone
as though his still raw love were such a crime.
He couldn't risk my blight of disbelief
though sure that very soon he'd hear her key scrape in the rusted lock and end his grief.
He knew she'd just popped out to get the tea.
I believe life ends with death, and that is all.
You haven't both gone shopping;
just the same,
in my new black leather phone book there's your name
and the disconnected number I still call.
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