E.

Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, turn off the telephone

prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone

silence the pianos and with muffled drum

bring out the coffin, let the mourners come

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead

scribble the sky the message she is dead

put crepe bows around the white necks of public doves

let the traffic police wear black cotton gloves

She was our North, our South, our East, and West

our working week and our Sunday rest

our noon our midnight our talk our song

We thought that love would last forever;

  We were wrong

The stars are not wanted now; put out everyone;

pack up the moon and dismantle the sun

pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;

for nothing now can come to any good.

W.H Audin.

How can a wonderful mother, a beautiful sister to my very special friend and a funny and loving woman die so young? These children need their mother, like all children do. It makes me question everything.

The world is quieter now without her. She fought hard like we knew she would. I cry not for my own loss which is small in comparison but for her sister who I love so very much and her young children and husband. I made this cross stitch for her when she was first diagnosed. She loved it, it was so her.

So in her honour, I am making this cross stitch pattern available to all to download and use, in the hope that many of you will never have too. You can download it here.

Hug your loved ones tighter today.