Life-Jacket
A grief poem, a fashion parade, and learning to sew
This grief is like a reversible jacket. Suddenly, everything is different. Colours are inside-out, turned dark, shadows suffocate light. The certainty I carried in my pocket is gone, elsewhere, upended, opposite. My insides are outside, weeping stuffing for all to see, my burst seams leak through zig-zag tears. This grief is shaped like you, it smells like you, it feels like you, but it doesn’t look like you. I don’t recognise the life-jacket we wore Now that it’s been turned inside-out.
I wrote this poem to express the shock and disorientation of sudden bereavement.
At the time of writing (December 2019, two months after Andy died), I thought there was a problem with the metaphor as I was unable to reverse the jacket back and have him beside me again.
Four years on, the metaphor works.
It is an Herculean task to turn back from the dark to the light side after losing a spouse. I was unable to attempt it for many months. Then, when I did try, I stuck my arm into a hole in the seam and got lost inside the lining. More lost, even darker. My stuffing was gone, white feathers floated free. Shivering cold.
Eventually, slowly, I began to mend tears, re-join small pieces, carefully choose new material to patch my torn, inside-out life-jacket.
I think chapters of life can be dressed in different metaphorical jackets.
Here’s a fashion parade…
Sometimes, life changes are brilliant, lucky, longed-for blessings.
Gifted the beautiful new life-chapter-coat of my dreams, I swished long camel cashmere in front of the mirror, hands deep in the silky pockets. All this? For me? Too good to be true.
Like the time an unknown underwater cameraman walked onto my dive boat and filled my life with love.
Other times, life changes are courageous choices.
In a too-small navy blazer, pinned with metallic buttons of self-imposed limits and others’ expectations, I burst out like the hulk and chose a life-jacket that fit better.
Like when I quit jobs and changed careers.
Other times, life changes are fought for, inch by inch.
A hand-sewn life-jacket, willed from aching joints, with a blunt needle, by the light of a flickering candle that keeps going out, and then the matches get damp and it takes half the box to relight the candle.
The work of grief.
My next chapter’s life-jacket is a work-in-progress, a patchwork building seam by seam. Treasured memories are sewn into place beside hard-won wisdom and new dreams.
It’s coming along well.
When I hold it up to the light, it’s beginning to look lovely.
I love the writing and the photography! That top pic is stunning.
I'm so sorry for the loss of your partner. Thank you for sharing the experience of your grief with us through poetry. I wrote many poems after losing my Dad and when I read them, I still tear up. There's something the language of poetry can hold for us that ordinary language cannot. I'm glad your new life-jacket is taking on a lovely form. 💗