A Month Before by Martin Redfern
A Month Before is a poem about loss; the loss of life but not the loss of love. Bereavement affects us in different ways – we all have our own coping mechanisms. Some of us want to shut ourselves off from the past as a way of managing emotional pain; others seek a constant reminder. Sometimes, it can seem like a betrayal to relinquish the memories, to let go….
A Month Before
25th May –
about a month before
often longer
rarely less,
my mother makes an annual pilgrimage.
Week one: she sets off gently,
matter of factly.
We’re driving past allotments
at Inverleith Park.
‘Your father loved his vegetable garden.’
This is not news.
She’s misty eyed.
I consider resting a hand on her knee
but changing gear preoccupies me.
Week two: her pace quickens.
We’re admiring the Forth Rail Bridge,
framed by a restaurant window.
A waiter whisks past:
steam, parsley, garlic.
‘Alistair adored moules marenieres.’
My mother is almost deaf –
shouting sympathy somehow seems inappropriate.
Week three: she’s making solid progress.
Earl Grey at Hopetoun House Tea Rooms
before tackling the Farm Shop.
My views on Adam fireplaces go unheeded.
‘The nights are the worst,
I can hear him.’
My mother is my mother
I am her child.
I abandon a sermon on positive thinking.
Week four: she’s made it.
We’re sitting on her patio,
that overlooks the weed-choked vegetable patch,
drinking coffee from a Portmeiron set –
a wedding present.
I allow my tears to fall,
clasp her bony shoulders against me,
and feel her sobbing.
© Martin Redfern 2012
A Month Before was originally published by Flarestack Publishing in Obsessed with Pipework’s Issue 62, spring 2013.
An anthology of modern short fiction recounting the quirkiness of the everyday, featuring DJ Mac and others.
DJ Mac is a writer based in Edinburgh, Scotland who fouters (dithers) with an itchy, scratchy pen in the moments when the bewilderment provoked by life settles. He is easily distracted by the bright pictures in his gallery.
