We Missed Eachother I touched your coffin and I left you. In the chapel you were enclosed, solidly. It felt wrong, to leave you behind though you were gone to yourself. Wayward, your voice did not come to chide me for my emotions. Suffered sobs. And I felt it all for you without the levity of your loving scold. Stood close, in distance so far. You weren't with me. I do not know when our last parting was final. Scattered goodbyes at different times punctuated our months. Like ash. This feeling is an ending, a collapsing. For me, but not for you. We have missed eachother. This rest is yours, unwilling matriarch, we venerated you. Take your leave of us with kindness. We have loved you, unequivocally. No longer shall we disturb you in needs, in wants, in cups of tea in birthday parties and Christmas spotify playlists. You will be so missed. I touch your coffin and I leave you. From the chapel you are at rest, freely.

Grandma's music request for Christmas every year: (Little Donkey). This is my favourite version of the ones she chose. https://open.spotify.com/track/64N6gfCjHblqAZAYPj1LdH?si=rIc0jFNuRuOWn1lzV6m10g

Cheerio. A half cup of a half cup of tea. Putting it aside, you tried to say goodbye. I told you not to be silly, and I'm so sorry, for letting the moment slide, Like the flowered eighth-full cup to our side. A marked moment of love, Grandma, not forgotten. Clasp. Towards the end, we held hands. And you tried to use me, to pull yourself out of bed. I wished that your legs were strong enough to take you where you wanted to go. But I was glad that you used my hands as points from which to lift, To hold, if not to stand. Nighties and Dinner. At the start your strength scared me. And I ate all the parsnips, pilchards in tomato sauce, the lemon curd, on those little orange kitchen chairs with our Granddad with three ds. Not daring to creak, eating what I don't like to eat. Thank you for looking after me. Prickled Time. You taught me to sew and knit. A tiny wooden caterpillar curled and knotted with rainbow wool. Wanting to please you I made, Everything I could, smiling. Absorbing, learning and rejoicing in the felt animals we were begetting Your compliments for my little stitches never left me. I was full. Who were you before you were my Grandma? On Pinewood Avenue, between night stories of brambly hedge, Flitting between tales of Rupert.. Knowing you now, peering behind- I plucked to ask my own questions. These provenances and histories of Wilkinsons that might have missed me. Sometimes you acquiesced. On war, Market Harborough, Dutch evacuees and rabbit-skin gloves. Hidden. The secret rooms of your world Like your mind So tempted me in Smells I hadn't smelt, doors firmly closed I peaked. The larder, your bedroom, the guest living room. I wanted to be nearer to the you that loomed behind and I was When the pines too were dismantled. I miss you. Thank you. I don't think I ever thanked you, For accepting me as I am. My first girlfriend, The lines you said looked like squiggles on my arm (tattoos). For loving me so dearly. From fidgety breeches to a degree In languages and in your own language I knew you were proud of me. Changes. When did we pass eachother? Child and adult, adult and adult. I'm not sure when your words became softer and mine dared to have a slight chide. To receive my affection, my love, My garbled notes down the phone, almost shouting. To drink all of your half cup of tea. At the end it was a plea. Because what is the point, My dear Grandma, Of a half cup of a half cup of tea.