Cath Sheard Art

Tag: writing

  • Saying goodbye

    Yesterday we held a small, private service for Tony, attended by family, close friends, some of his ex-colleagues and my work family. It was recorded so people who couldn’t attend are able to watch online.

    His daughter Yasmine, son Ben, brother Roger and I were comforted by the memories shared, and love in the room.

    Music was important to Tony – when he was struggling with pain I’d put his headphones on and he’d fall asleep to the music. In the final days when nothing seemed to get him comfortable, and he was too generally sore to wear headphones, I put the radio on and he settled a bit.

    Tony had chosen two songs – Beautiful trauma by Pink and The Ghosts that haunt me by The Crash Test Dummies. I added a third, Guide me home, sung by Freddie Mercury and Monserrat Caballe from the Barcelona album which he loved.

    I want to finish this with some of the lyrics from two of those songs, but before I do there’s one last thought I want to share. While we were planning the service Kelly, from Hardings Funerals, said to people don’t understand until it happens that, in the moment the coffin closes or they leave the service, their loved one becomes an ancestor.

    And so it is with me. After 33 years, in an instant, Tony became my late husband and, to use Kelly’s words, that’s a pivotal moment. Rest in peace Tony – in the words of the poem I read, you continue to be my star, my dear.

    From ‘The ghosts that haunt me’

    There will come a time I fear when all my days are done
    And they will come collect my corpse and bury me
    And then I hope you’ll come over to the Other Side
    To join me in our new life, keep me company

    From ‘Guide me home’

    Now the wind has lost my sail
    Now the scent has left my trail
    Who will find me, take care and side with me
    Guide me back safely to my home
    Where I belong, once more

    Where is my star in heaven’s bough
    Where is my strength, I need it now
    Who can save me, lead me to my destiny
    Guide me back safely to my home
    Where I belong, once more

    Who will find me, take care and side with me
    Guide me back safely to my home
    Where I belong, once more

    How can I go on?
    How can I go on this way

  • #BlogJune is back!

    I’ve been doing #BlogJune for a few years now. I used to blog regularly but, as life changed, blogging was replaced by art journaling as a way to get my thoughts out of my head. All the same, I enjoy writing and blogging, and the connection with people that it can bring. It’s about having limited time, so making choices about what to prioritise.

    A friend on Twitter mentioned #BlogJune last night and I thought, yes, I’m going to give it a shot. Reestablishing a writing and blogging habit will be good for me. Chances are the posts will be a bit random, but life *is* a bit random at the moment.

  • Pouring it out on paper

    No, it’s not readable – I just need to get the words out…

  • Like an old-fashioned diary

    I sometimes hear people say that in 100 years time there will be no evidence of us; blogs, Twitter, emails and digital photos mean we’re not recording our lives in the same way that our forbears did. It’s true that we’re not recording our lives in the same ways as the pioneers did. The days of a quill pen, bottles of ink, and diary are long gone. But many of us *are* leaving a trace of ourselves.

    I still write letters to some people and, yes, I use a fountain pen with fabulous coloured inks. I admit they’re not 10 page wonders full of the adventures of living in a new land far away, but they are a record of my hand writing, and the fact that I care enough to put pen to paper.

    And of course I scrapbook, as do many thousands of people around the world. I don’t even remember how I started scrapbooking but it’s the perfect hobby for someone who loves to play with scissors and glue! In the early days of scrapbooking  becoming popular as a hobby it was quite regimented in a sense, with very strong emphasis on preservation and archival materials. A lot of people still scrap that way, and they are leaving an amazing legacy behind. Most of my scrapping is still safe enough but I also do more art journal style pages now, where the photos are copies and I don’t care how long the page lasts.

    I have no children of my own, so that begs the question – if I am documenting my life, who am I documenting it for? I used to think I knew the answer to that, but not any more. There are a few possibilities that occur to me. Some relative might want the scrapbooks as a reminder of our family. Maybe. I might adopt a child in my 50s and they will want the scrapbooks. Um, not happening. Or some poor soul will have to dispense with them when I die, just like I had to deal with my Aunt’s teaspoons. Likely scenario.

    So why do I keep scrapping? For the love of it. I love the colours, the papers, the artistry, the freedom to get my thoughts down in a permanent form, the chance to tell people how I feel about having them in my life. In the end, it doesn’t really matter what happens to my scrapbooks, what matters is that creating them enriches my life.

    For the record, the photos are not great – light fell across the pages, the camera wasn’t straight on so I had to crop them funny, etc. In real life, the photos are straight, the edges square etc. Oh well…