Tag Archives: memories

The Weight Of Days

11 Sunday Dec 2016

Posted by in poems, stories

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , ,

It is five in the morning and the kookaburras are laughing

in the trees.

The crickets are scratching outside my bedroom window.

And the neighbours rooster is welcoming a brand new sunrise.

With the sun comes the flies and the heat.

Five in the morning and i am already feeling the weight of days.

Let me introduce myself.

My name is  Bart Matthews and i am a resident of an aged care facility.

I am 82 years old and i have lived in this place for over five years.

As i listen to the kookaburras and crickets that means that i get to live

another day on this earth.

But that rooster could do with a bullet to the head.

I also the sounds into my head.

Sounds that remind me of my yesterdays.

Oh the weight of days.

All kinds of human sounds resonate around the facility.

The sound of a nightmare.

The sad cries from the lonely.

And the sound of the tormented.

But the sound that i hate the most is the sound of silence.

That can only mean one thing.

Someone has just departed this planet.

And i know that it will be my turn soon.

Oh the weight of days.

I lie in bed thinking about my yesterdays.

Because at my age it is no use thinking too much about

tomorrow.

But when you think about the past the memories are twofold.

Most of my memories are good but every now and then a bad one

will creep up and have something to say.

Oh the weight of days.

After a little snooze i go over to my rocking chair to catch the afternoon sun.

Another day is almost done and dusted.

One more day spent staring out of my window.

The world outside is just there but still beyond my reach.

I cant escape from this place i am here to stay.

Oh the weight of days.

I remember back when i was a kid playing with my siblings and friends.

Getting into mischief and all kinds of trouble.

Going camping on nanny goat hill only five hundred matres from home.

But it was like we were in the middle of nowhere.

I remember the horrible years i spent at high school where i was treated

like a mongrel dog.

I can also remember smoking and drinking  and losing my virginity with a friends

sister.

I was slowly becoming a man leaving my childhood behind

Oh the weight of days.

I am thinking back to my marriage and the birth of my two children.

When a nurse taps me on the shoulder and tells me that it is time to take

my pills.

I swallow them down with some water.

Now where was i?

The interruption has messed with my train of thought.

I cant remember what i was thinking about.

Oh the weight of days.

The next morning i am having breakfast in the common room.

A bowl of gluggy porridge and a cold cup of tea.

I look at my fellow residents all frail and feeble.

And i realise that i must look exactly the same.

As i look at them  i know that every one of them will have their

own memories inside.

And maybe some stories to tell

But none of us get many visitors so their stories will go untold.

There is no one around to listen to any word they have to say.

Oh the weight of days.

I am laying in bed reading a well read magazine.

When the nurse tells me that it is time for a sponge bath.

All i can do is lie there as she washes me all over.

It is degrading not being able to wash myself.

Pretty soon i will start to forget things maybe even my own name.

Oh the weight of days.

When i go to bed at night i find it hard to go to sleep.

Usually i only manage two or three hours.

And with every hour that i am awake all i do is think.

Insomnia is the curse of a lot of old people.

They are afraid that when they go to sleep they might not wake up.

We all just lie there knowing that the end is nigh.

Oh the weight of days.

My wife died a long time ago and both of my children are middle

aged.

And between them they have given me six grandkids.

They all visit once a month looking at their watches like they need

to be someplace else.

While the grand kids look at me like i am an exhibit in a museum.

I know that i am a burden and that my family is waiting for me to die.

Oh the weight of days.

It is a pain in the arse getting old.

I am still young at heart but my mind and body refuse to co-operate

I need a walker to get around and glasses to watch the world flash past.

And my hearing isn’t what it used to be.

But worst of all sometimes i need to use a bedpan.

With the indignity of a nurse having to wipe my rear end.

My bodily functions are no longer my own.

Oh the weight of days.

It is the morning of the 20th of November 2017.

Just another day in the twilight zone.

I go to the common room for my usual breakfast.

I am talking to another resident when i start to feel dizzy and

lightheaded.

Than before i know i am on the floor.

I am rushed to the hospital in an ambulance.

In a lucid moment i hear the word STROKE.

I drift halfway between life and death.

And a white light at the end of a tunnel is calling my name.

There is no pain

Lust a blessed relief that my time has arrived.

I eyes are closed and i know that they will never reopen.

Even though i am dying.

I haven’t felt this good in years.

The weight of days no longer sits heavy on my shoulders.

I say goodbye and die with a smile on my face.

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and now could you please help me reach my goal in becoming a fulltime writer by making a donation. Thanks again Steven.

Attic To The Past

28 Wednesday Sep 2016

Posted by in poems, stories

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , ,

Today is a very special day for me.

It is my 78th birthday.

I jump out of bed as fast as i can.

But it isn’t that easy at my age.

Than i sit at the kitchen and drink a

hot cup of tea.

As i sit there my mind starts to look back

All i have now is half remembered memories.

Well i cant sit here all day.

Maybe someone will pay me a visit?

I will have to make sure that the house is nice and clean

Surely my son and daughter will bring the grandchildren

around.

I haven’t seen them in quite a long time.

The only person who visits is the nice lady from meals on wheels.

I wonder if she knows how lonliness feels?

I go from room to room tidying as i go.

Than i comb my hair and brush my teeth.

And use some aftershave.

Now all i can do is wait.

Hang on was that a knock on the front door?

I rush to open it up but there is nobody there

Just a lot of undisturbed air.

I sit on my lounge and turn on the TV

I need to calm down.

There will be a phone call any minute.

Than i hear a noise coming from upstairs.

It sounded like foot steps up in the attic.

As i make my way towards that upper room

My heart is beating fast boom boom boom.

When i enter the attic all i see is dust motes and cob webs

I haven’t been up here in more than twenty years.

Nobody is up here except maybe some ghosts.

Even though the attic is full of memories.

I am starting to have second thoughts.

Because as you know not all memories are good.

Than i notice a favourite piece of wood.

In the corner near an old possum nest is my old cricket

bat.

I pick it up and start to play some shots.

Than my arthritis tells me that i am not twenty one anymore.

I sit down on an old wooden chest and think back.

And my face does something it hasn’t done for a while.

It transforms itself and turns into a smile.

Near my feet lies an old rubber ball.

That belonged to a neighbours dog that adopted me as it’s owner.

It was old and cranky with a grey muzzle.

But to me Cass was always kind and gentle.

A black doberman Cass was the best dog in the world.

We used to run around and play in the park.

And as i listen now i can still hear him bark.

I hang my head as i think back.

Than i feel a change in the air.

I look up to see the dust motes dancing and forming shapes.

I see my late wife Cindy in her wedding dress

She was always glowing as pretty as a picture.

I start to weep god i really miss her.

About a decade ago Cindy found a lump in her breast.

She fought the best that she could.

But cancer is a really hard disease to beat.

The radiation and chemo took a heavy toll on her body.

And just three months after the diagnosis

My darling Cindy was gone.

Taken by that god awful disease.

With a heavy heart i fall to my knees.

The dust motes are still dancing and mingling with the moon

beams.

And my deceased brother and sister appear.

Greg is riding his motorbike.

While Sue is cuddling her kids.

They are both doing what they liked to do the most.

Greg rode his motorbike into heaven.

And 28 years later Sue joined him in the big sky.

Both of them were taken way too soon.

The dust motes still dance and swoon.

As i look at those dust motes.

My brother and sister sort of fade away.

I want to run into those motes and make them re arrange

How dare those motes take my brother and sister away again.

But i know that one day i will once again see my brother sister

and wife.

Because after death there is life.

The dust has finally settled.

But my memories are still strong.

The attic to the past has stirred up a lot of thoughts.

Memories of long lost souls.

Names and faces that i will never forget as long as i live.

Why do people have to die?

I head back downstairs before i start to cry.

I turn on the kettle and have another cup of tea.

Before my offspring and grand children arrive.

Hopefully they will bring beer and some chocolate cake.

I go and make myself a sandwich.

But as i eat my brain has too much time to think.

I wash my thoughts and dishes down the sink.

Three o’clock and my phone still hasn’t rung.

Maybe my family is stuck in heavy traffic?

Or they are still shopping for my present?

But deep down in my heart i know that they have forgotten

My family will not visit for my birthday.

I will just have to celebrate alone.

There isn’t any birthday cake or candles to blow out.

Nor any presents to unwrap.

So i just lie down and have a little nap.

But i cant sleep.

All i can think about is that attic to the past.

I was happy sitting there amongst the dust motes.

So i go back upstairs to that special room

I sit on that wooden chest but nothing happens

The dust motes and the magic has gone.

The attic is now nothing more than a room full of mould.

I just slink downstairs to my lonely little household.

I sit in my chair watching the sun go down.

Waiting for my TV dinner to cook in the oven.

Than i will have an early night.

Or maybe have a few beers to drown my sorrows

Than headlights appears in the driveway.

My loving family is finally here.

I am really had any doubts.

From feeling way down in the dumps.

I am now way up in the clouds.

And they say that every cloud has a sliver lining.

And even though it is dark.

The sun is surely shining.

Hugs and kisses are exchanged.

And i confess that i didn’t think that they were coming.

That i was just about to go to bed.

My daughter pipes up ‘But dad i told you that we are taking

you out for chinese’

‘So go grab your jacket we have a birthday to celebrate’

‘I have booked a table and we dont want to be late’

The grand Kids are jumping up and down raring to go.

I grab my keys and jacket and head out the door.

Surrounded by my loving family.

But i cant resist one last look up to that attic to the past.

I know that my memories will last and last.

Memories remind you of your yesterdays.

But you cant live in the past.

You have to live in the here and now.

So i close my front door.

And we all head on our way

To celebrate my 78th birthday.

THE END

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and now if you have the means could you please help me achieve my dream of becoming a fulltime writer by making a small donation i would really appreciate it. Thanks again Steven.