My brother died last week, an expected death, but a shock nonetheless, and he's been in my thoughts. I've been trying to remember him, trying to see him as he was before the dementia set in. A morning run helps me to sort out the thoughts that crowd into my head, and since his death, I've been running more frequently. On my run this morning, I realised that my brother was trotting along behind, trying to keep up. He wasn't actually there, only in my imaginings, but it gave me an insight, and along with that thought came the words "not waving but drowning". When I read the full poem later, it seemed to fit him perfectly:-
Not Waving but Drowning
Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.
Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.
Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.
Poem by Stevie Smith 1902-1972 - published in 1957
I also searched out a blog from a couple of years ago, which I'd written in the form of a letter, titled Dear John, and it too pretty much sums up how I feel today.
The picture at the top shows a mighty sea, taken in 2015, the same time as my earlier blog.
To read my previous blog, Dear John, click on the link below:-
http://susanvale.blogspot.co.uk/2015/07/dear-john.htm
