Is just me that finds it spooky the date that review was written ?

Have kept busy and done lots of ….
Celebrating -Auntie Grace’s life, Nanny’s 89th birthday ….
Walking – Bushy Park with TCF, Kew Gardens with a friend. Chilworth ,with a new walking group ,who actually asked me to come along …..
Welcoming – three new lovely Danish ( so they are practically family ) students …
Watching – ‘Strictly ‘( a double edged sword as I love it but as you know ,it was the last programme I watched with Rosie ) and ‘Through the Keyhole’ ( Keith Lemon does make me laugh although I think to most people, he’s a pain in the butt )
BUT reading has become a problem again – I just can’t seem to do it .

Then a dear friend bought me a book .When I was with her in a bookshop in Holborn ,I picked it up and had a glance .Unbeknown to me she went back and bought it and then gave it to me .It is titled ‘In Memoriam – Poems of Bereavement ‘.

I have never really understood a lot of poetry – I went to the sort of school that killed it, left me dreading it and feeling a bit inadequate when reading it .

But now ,certain poems just resonate .This one in particular sums up how I feel .It was written by Adrian Mitchell,who I have since googled .On Sunday 21st December 2008 , Michael Kusow in the Guardian wrote ”Adrian was a natural pacifist, a playful, deeply serious peacemonger and an instinctive democrat. and once said – “Most people ignore most poetry because most poetry ignores most people.”.
This is it :-

DEATH IS SMALLER THAN I THOUGHT

My Mother and Father died some years ago
I loved them very much.
When they died my love for them
Did not vanish or fade away.
It stayed just about the same,
Only a sadder colour.
And I can feel their love for me,
Same as it ever was.

Nowadays, in good times or bad,
I sometimes ask my Mother and Father
To walk beside me or to sit with me
So we can talk together
Or be silent.

They always come to me.
I talk to them and listen to them
And think I hear them talk to me.
It’s very simple –
Nothing to do with spiritualism
Or religion or mumbo jumbo.

It is imaginary.
It is real.
It is love.