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My uncle, Douglas Matchett, ex of Bootle, Garston, and Mossley Hill, Liverpool, died Friday morning in Alderney Hospital, Poole, Dorset. He had lived in Dorset and Germany for many years and finally died age 92 after being admitted for pneumonia a few weeks ago, from which he had rallied and seemed better but then had a massive stroke late last week which put him in a coma. The following poem and the preceding recently posted poems reference both Douglas and my mother, Yoria C. George, nicknamed "Lule" by a cousin as a child, who is now age 86 and becoming quite frail, herself ailing memorywise. . .


Bluebells for Lulie

I see a patch of bluebells in bloom,
am reminded of Mum's "Boo Bell Woods"
near her Garston, Liverpool council house.

On Saturday, I purposely delayed telling her
that her 92-year-old brother Douglas died
on Friday morning; we took her to a bayside

wedding. We heard sandpipers' high sounds
overhead; Chesapeake breeze cooled our cheeks.
The happy couple mixed sand, exchanged rings.

A white rose tied to my mother's thin wrist,
her brown and pink dress almost falling off:
I'd cut her shoe to fit her swollen foot.

Sunday morning, I break the news as I drive
for Royal Farms java and to view azaleas,
rhodos, dogwoods, and lakes of "duckies."

She's eighty-six years old but could be six;
Lulie, becoming the daughter I never had,
talks of "Christopher" as if I'm not there.

Christopher T. George




Here I am at age three months, being held by Uncle Douglas in the back garden of 76 Aigburth Hall Avenue, Liverpool, and my Mum holding me on the same occasion. Get a load of that hat!

Really nice line break decisions, Christopher. I think line breaks are one of your talents. So sorry for your loss.

Thank you, Manna.

Chris

‘I'd cut her shoe to fit her swollen foot’ – this line hit me.
The divine is in the detail of what you do for your mother now, how roles change with time.

Many thanks, blonde madonna!

Chris

Christopher,

I'm very sorry to hear about the loss of your uncle.

"She's eighty-six years old but could be six;"

I had the same experience with my mother as her
dementia progressed.

I like the way you've juxtaposed the different layers of
sadness with the images of different types of beautiful
flowers.

Sherry

Thank you, Sherry.

Chris