Walk hand in hand

Some days are ok

Other days are filled with dark holes

Some days there are tears

Other days, there is emptiness

Some days there are triggers

Today, it was a song and a poem

Yesterday, it was a smile at his photo

The day before, it was something in the park

Tears well, sometimes perch perilously, sometimes fall

Hidden by sunglasses and soaked up by a Covid-necessitated mask

No shaking shoulders and no audible sobs for this public crying needs to be invisible for the grief mask to be effective

“Don’t let the sun catch you crying”, sings Gerry with his Pacemakers.

One day, it was a couple holding hands.

Always, it was us holding hands.

In my/our kitchen, unseen by anyone, I cry as I remember how Peter and I would walk hand in hand as I listen to Gerry, a Mersey man, singing for my Bethnall Green love:

Walk hand in hand with me through all eternity

Have faith, believe in me, give me your hand

Love is a symphony of perfect harmony

When lovers such as we walk hand in hand

 

Be not afraid, for I am with you all the while

So lift your head up high and look toward the sky

Walk hand in hand with me, this is our destiny

No greater love could be, walk hand in hand

Walk with me.

 

Some days there are tears.

Forever, I feel my hand in his as we will walk hand in hand.

 

Stereo Story #575

 

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Cathy Brigden is an academic whose writings have been, unsurprisingly, published in academic journals and edited collections. She is now recasting herself as a writer with her writing propelled towards memoir, and the loss of her husband leading her to writing about grief.