I miss you like pork..

Hiya bab,

Tonight I have twenty different thoughts in my head which I’ve written, unwritten, written again and then given up on. Nothing seems to want to be born whole, so maybe it is just a time to sit and let the thoughts cook.

I’m tucked up with the dog snoring merrily on my feet, like the world’s noisiest hot water bottle, and I’m thinking of you, thinking of calling you to say hello. So thought I’d say the hello anyway.

Without your phone calls the days seem to stream into each other like paint havocking on a pallet. It’s a bit of a mess. The punctuation is all gone and so much that is meant to be told is left undone without you to hear it.

We’re doing okay. Okay in the broad sense but still okay. You don’t need to worry about us – go find a cute angel to flirt with instead!

I miss you irrationally. At times before I’ve been away from you for months more than this and yet it did not feel like this. I feel I have been robbed of half my tomorrows now I that know you will not be in them.

I miss you like I missed pork when I lived in the Middle East.. like hot showers in Nigeria. You are a lost creature comfort. A hug that has been shrugged into distance. A part of my day that has fizzled out.

The world is shifted, altered without you in it and I am waiting for the curtain to lift . I miss you like I’d miss the colour red if it all ran away..

I miss your height and breadth, your crazy rebel eyebrow hairs. I miss your aftershave and intonations. I miss singing the ‘poor daddy’ song. I miss you saying ‘night night sleep tight’ even though I’m well into those 30s…

You would say this is flowery Oxford talk, laugh at me and tell me to keep my chin up. My chin is up but I still miss you.


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12 Responses to I miss you like pork..

  1. Felipe Neumann says:

    “Without your phone calls the days seem to stream into each other like paint havocking on a pallet. It’s a bit of a mess. The punctuation is all gone and so much that is meant to be told is left undone without you to hear it.” this one really got me, I can relate to that… yes.
    I don’t know if there’s a way someone could possibly write about missing a loved one in a better way.

    P.S: are you moving? you kinda wrote about it but I’m curious!

    • Hey Felipe,
      Home is Wales and it looks like I have a few months work in Uganda as of next week… so quite a big move!

      • Felipe Neumann says:

        Wow! That’s some seriously exciting business then, I suppose?! How are you feeling?
        I strongly believe there’s nothing better than breathing the air of a far away land to feel fresh again! I think I’m going to Israel in september, visit some friends and hopefully get in touch with my spirituality in a deeper level.
        Wish all goes well to you! I’m crossing my fingers! πŸ˜€

      • Oooh excited, nervous, panicked, pretending it is not happening… my feelings change every 20 seconds and I half think it might all still fall through. Trying to take deep breaths and let it be what it turns out to be – watch this space….

  2. I agree with the gentleman above. There is a lyricism here that makes your sense of a missing piece in your life more moving. Not knowing the full story, if there is one this is just a fragment but very well crafted. I shall return to read more

  3. That’s so true – that things are left undone without being able to tell the person you want to tell. I can relate to that very much. It’s strange – and very true – that some things we have done and experienced only become ‘real’ when we have described them to the people we care about. I found this very moving – as are all your posts.

    • Mm so much lately that feels incomplete without being able to tell dad about it… think I’m going to have that feeling more so when I head off next week… dad always loved to share these adventures with me. But in line with my ‘talking to the air’, sometimes I just tell him anyway!

  4. wellspring01 says:

    I’m new to blogging so I hope it’s not highly inappropriate to respond with a something from my own grief journal. Your words are so eloquent that I feel inarticulate by comparison…

    Inside my heart, a songbird trills
    And serenades my every hour
    Threading softly through my dreams;
    Now a pleading clamour
    Now a gentle hum
    Beneath my breast.

    The melody is beautiful
    But the song knifes from within
    Seeking flight
    A passage to the outside
    For a song unheard is a prisoner
    Shackled to its voice.

    Then comes another
    Bending close to hear
    Head held to my breast
    Releasing bird and song to swell and soar
    Harmonies multiplying
    Finding resonance in the other.

    And when we parted
    Resumed our ways
    The songbird fluttered down to earth;
    Its wings I folded to its sides
    And placed it within my heart.

    Inside my heart a songbird mourns
    And haunts my every hour.

    • Dear Wellspring, Thanks for visiting, reading and sharing. This is my 6th week of blogging so if there is elaborate ettiquette, I don’t know it either πŸ™‚ Just very happy to know people are reading and that some of what I write connects..

  5. SilentFlat says:

    “My chin is up but I still miss you”… the kind of strength that sometimes I wish we didn’t need to have. Really beautiful piece.

  6. gregsmithmd says:

    Ah. Made me hear the jingle of change in my dad’s pockets and think of fishing trips. He’s not flirting with angels-not his style-but he is undoubtedly busy in Heaven.
    Thanks for the sharing.

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