My beloved husband, Kent, died in January 2012, 3 years after diagnosis of a brain tumour. Our son was 2 1/2 and our daughter 3 months old. He and I were far too young. I am now hurtling through the black space of life without him.

Wednesday, 20 June 2012

Cold (not really a poem)

It's raining outside
And it's raining in my heart
(And down my face).

It's cold outside
And it's cold in our bed
(I have to wear more layers).

You're not here to tell me to put on another jersey when I'm cold, or to warm my feet-cicles when they're icy. I can't seem to calculate how much meat I should be buying now, or how much pasta to cook. We have those 2 lovely white bowls we were given and now I just get one out. It doesn't even seem worth turning the warmer drawer on and you know how I like a hot plate.

It's dark outside
And it's dark in our home
(Even with the lights on).


  1. It's worth putting your warmer drawer on, Angela. And please put on another jersey tonight.
    I dreamed about Kent the other night and he was so hilarious, as usual.
    xox t

  2. I'm glad you did. My dreams are only bad. I'm hoping for some hilarious ones one day (night) x

  3. Thanks for making it easier to comment, I'm not so good at working this stuff out! :)

    I so appreciate your words - they make me think, cry, pray, smile, remember and be thankful. I agree with Thalia, put the warmer drawer on, it's the little things that keep us going sometimes.

    I was preparing a tomato the other day and as I cut out the little core bit from where the stalk grew I thought of Kent, and a comment you made once that he didn't like to eat that part. I told him that a couple of years later and he replied "doesn't everyone cut that bit out though?" As usual, he was right! :) I think I'll start eating more tomatoes.


    1. Ha, funny the things we remember. I like it. I don't like the core bit either... x

  4. I was sitting by the fire the other night with matt and looking at his arms the way a nurse looks at a patient- nice veins- and also how a wife looks at a husband - nice arms, I like your arms. And I thought about you not looking at kent's arms, wishing that you could. And I was just so much more grateful for Matt's arms with their fat juicy veins and all that marvelous bloodflow. I dont know if it helps to know that you've made me even more grateful.

    1. Yes this is a good thing. Something I think about sometimes, perhaps even a topic for another post one day.

  5. Hey Angela,

    This is my first visit to your poignant and heart-rending blog. Thank you for your honesty and the beauty of your writing. I'll be back (regularly)!

    Kia kaha, kia manawa,
    arohaNUI ki a koe,

    Amy xo