Letters & Poems Written For The Residents
Dear Gran
Dear Gran,
Why didn’t I visit you more when you were in hospital? That’s what I sit here and ask myself. Catherine said it was better not to see you like that – as you were not in a good way. But you were my Gran. The queen of my universe.
Yet I copped out and didn’t show up. Perhaps two or three times I visited you in hospital but you were there 10 weeks before you passed away.
I didn’t bother, I didn’t show up and I didn’t have enough courage to go and see you while you were not well, basically while you were slowly but surely dying.
You see, Gran, you were not just any gran. You were GRAN! You looked like a Spanish/Irish gran mix as your skin was so tanned and wrinkly, you loved the sunshine, just like me, but I am not tanned like you (unless you consider tan from a bottle). Remember you always said that all I do is look in the mirror all day long (in my terrible teenage, mad age years).
Gran, you were a noble beauty, your gorgeousness shone from inside out and you were a true ethereal goddess.
You worked so hard all your life. You always wanted to win the lotto, not to go jet-setting across the world and start living the life of one of the golden girls from the TV show. No, you wanted to give it all away to us mad lot, your family.
I always wanted to tell you that I loved your hands (but I was too busy looking in the mirror). They were so old and wrinkly and your palms had a lifetime of lines held within them; the deep lines on the palm black from the enormous pieces of coal you threw on the open fire.
Ironically, one of my favourite and shameful memories I have is when you walked to the local shops every Wednesday to buy the marshmallow sweets I loved and was totally addicted to – well, addicted to the sugar. I knew you liked to walk to the shops, but I should have walked with you. But I was too wrapped up in my hurt and emotionally terrible teenage self. You were so bent over with your walking stick and your crippling and debilitating arthritis.
I still have a vivid memory of you walking down the lane while I was looking out of Catherine’s bedroom window. Your face nearly meeting the pavement as your determined mind, body and spirit carried you to the sweet shop.
Gran, I’ve so much to thank you for. Jaysus, I’ve my whole business to thank you for. I am eternally grateful. You are the inspiration for the whole entrepreneurial trip I’ve been on for the past 11 years and hopefully I will continue to be on for many years to come.
It sounds trite to say inspiration, but it’s true – you were just so bloody amazing. I would not be where I am today if it was not for you, Gran. We all love and miss you so much.
I look forward to playing our donkey game again, then tucking into your homemade chunky chips cooked in a gallon of grease with tons of magic table salt (not a pink Himalayan salt drop in sight) up in the big fluffy white clouds of love. A little birdie told me that we don’t have to worry about our oily, salt-filled organs as there is no bad cholesterol in heaven. No offence, but I don’t want to meet too soon – maybe in about 70 years?
You are my forever superstar Lizzie
Thank you
Georgina Tully
Reading Together
Three months have now passed since we have been reading together.
The story book, Perfect Christmas.
Perfect Christmas becomes more magic with every read.
Your gentle yet grounding tone to your wise voice fills the room and somehow makes me feel more secure.
It is my favorite part of today reading together.
Excitement is filling my young self at godspeed
We are nearing Christmas Eve with each and every read.
Your thoughtfulness is your superpower
Hot Water bottle ready in the bed added to that is an old blanket which looks like it has lived a thousand life times with endless stories of love and loss weaved into every thread.
I delight in the pictures of Santa Claus and the beautifully wrapped presents in Perfect Christmas.
I become mesmerized by your great and wondrous looking hands which turn each page with a comforting confidence
Wisdom sings through the bounty of deep creases etched into your palms
I feel more relaxed with every sentence
You envelop my shoulder with your comforting hand
Dear child, Perfect Christmas has finished. Book closes.
Reading together has ended.
Christmas Eve arrives in the morning.
You give me an enormous hearted hug.
I realise then and there I have the perfect christmas present
Grandmother it is you, it has always been you.
Inspired by Gran, Written by Georgina.
Love
Love is a feeling. We experience love in many different ways.
Love is a feeling. We experience love in many different ways.
The love we feel for our parents can be enormous yet difficult.
The love we feel for our children can be unconditional yet filled with nervous expectation.
The love we feel in our love relationship can be mighty yet disappointing.
The love we feel for our friends can be special yet stale.
The love we feel for our home can be delightful yet limiting.
The love we feel for our neighbours can be caring yet challenging.
The love we feel for ourselves can be complicated yet oh so important.
The love we feel for the animal kingdom can be deeply comforting yet in a cloud of fear.
The love we feel for humanity can be glorious yet swimming in sadness.
The love we feel for nature is natural & pure. Sitting in the secret garden among the flowers, birds & bees give us the gift of peace within & help us understand all the different types of love and emotions we feel from the above.
Waiting Room
Dark, cold and lonely the feeling of isolation lives in every corner of the room.
My thoughts are racing, heart feels weak, hands feel unbearably cold and my palms are aching.
I’m losing my balance, my feet are unearthed from the floor.
I look for the nearest chair and fall inelegantly onto it.
I worry, do you feel the same way?
I find it incomprehensible that I don’t know when I will see you again.
I feel utterly out of control.
When can I hold your wise and wonderful hand again?
The many lines on the palms of your hands run so deep
and narrate the colorful stories of your life.
Our special thing we do together is to match up the lines on each other’s hands
to see who has the more interesting looking creases swirling in many a direction.
When will I get to hold your hand again?
I beg of you, please give me a sign, any kind will do.
I still have some space on my palms to create more story lines, do you have any space left?
There is an old, worn looking blanket I spot in the seat next to me in waiting room.
I wrap it around me it feels very comforting as it’s heavy in material,
the muscles in my body begin to relax.
I hear a chorus of gentle bird song which invites me to close my eyes
and drift off into a peaceful sleep.
You visit me in my dreams, you tell me you miss me dearly.
You tell me your hands feel cold also but never frozen.
You feel lonely but never in despair.
Your heart feels weak but it trusts.
Your palms also ache and long for our lines to connect once more.
I hear you whisper that yes, we will meet again to hold hands once again
and to dance with each other’s smiles.
As you have radical faith that rests deep within your heart,
our soul lives happily on together forever.
I awake from my slumber, waiting room feels warmer, the darkness has lifted.
A glowing ray shines through the window the bird song is vibrant.
My hands are not cold anymore and I feel the delicate but mighty energy
of our palms connecting once again.
More storylines will be created together.
Breathe precious one, waiting room is no more.
– Inspired by the residents, written by Georgina Tully.
Love is the answer-it always has been & always will be.
The currency of kindness is the richest currency of all.
-Above is an extract from one of our themes from our new therapy-Comfort Through The Senses.
Clouds
When I catch first glimpse of you in the morning due-I feel like I’m still dreaming in the imaginative nighttime cloud.
When I meet with your fragrance at noon-I picture us floating in a cloud of sweet Lavender with the warm sun shining in.
When I rest with you in the afternoon-I delight in our blissful enfold while quiet clouds float by the middle sky.
When I dine with you in the youthful eve-I taste your warm embrace-the clouds beyond the gate are smiling at your grace.
When we sip together on the sweet tipple-I feel like a golden cloud has shone on my racing heart easing each breathing of breath.
When all nighttime has fallen from the deep thinking star filled sky-my whole heart hugs you & we dissolve into the same one cloud.
When I share the morning,noon & night with you-I know I’m blessed beyond every single cloud in flight.
-Inspired by Maeve, written by Georgina Tully.
Gold Not Old
