Notes from the Guest Editor: Theme Challenges and Community Poem

Hi to all my friends, fellow babylost community and artists.

I would like to say thanks to Angie for letting me come onto still life 365 to be a guest editor for the month of April. Angie has selflessly offered this experience to me, so that I can know what it is like to be in every day contact with such amazing artists and supporters. I am having a great time already, and its barely even started. I am having lots of email contact with Angie and I can't help anticipating all the inspiring work that is going to flow into this sacred space this month.

I love still life365, I can't say it enough. I am such a big fan. I love seeing the photos arrive on Photo Sunday, as a group we all contribute a photo that expresses our perception of the theme, for me it's like seeing a piece of your soul, being invited to look out from your window and see your world. I love the secretness of the group poem, because everyone submits something individual but no one sees the lines that others are submitting. The group poem always takes the temperature of grief in our community, even though each portion is so deeply personal and straight from the heart it all fits together. And I love the questions that Angie posts, so many contributors have posted that their exploration of the questions have prompted something unknown to rise to the surface, things that have been lying in the depths.

Speaking of depths, this month I have chosen water as the theme

I personally connect with the analogies of grief and water. Ones like "grief is as heavy as water", or it feeling like an unnatural state "exhausting as walking through water", and the very commonly stated "waves of grief rolling in".

We all use water everyday, for most of us we have very constant and unremarkable contact with water. I mean do we call up our best friend and tell them the story of when the water came out of the tap and into our sink? Of course we don't. We flush it, wash in it, drink it, we do countless other mundane things with it. It's just ordinary.

But, there are times when water becomes something else, especially when it gets bigger. Like a lake or a stream or a river or the sea. Being near water becomes a spiritual thing, we feel closer to the source of our beings, we feel a connection with the universe, our creator. Things are more intense and more intimate when we can hear see or feel water.

In Australia we are so focussed on water. It surrounds us, there are thousands of miles of it between us and just about everyone else. We have a very fragile existence because of the lack of water, many parts of our amazing country cannot be inhabited by the ordinary person because they would just die of thirst. We have just had a 10 year long drought which was broken by an extremely rainy and tragic summer. Huge tracts of land disappeared under water and caused the most catastrophic consequences from the top of our nation to the bottom. Some of that land is still under water, or it has been flooded for the second and third time this season. In Australia it seems that there is either too much or not enough. Of course it's not true

Our babies were all protected by water, they floated in an climate controlled amniotic fluid filled sac while they were alive.  That sac of water was one of the lifelines that our body gave to protect their life, for every single one of our babies. For some the water was too much and for others too little, and that signaled problems. For me that is where my journey with grief became coupled with water. 

This month I would like you all to create art using water as your theme.

Please send in any submissions that relate to water at any time, especially if you created something because of the prompts. Angie has been calling for submissions over the last week or two weeks, so if you are not sure please send it to Angie and she will forward it to me and one of us will reply (because I still have my training wheels on) with encouragement and love. I know that I personally have art that has never been published here, so I will take my own advice.

We are trying something a little different this month, instead of posting the community art challenges on Sundays we are going to do them on Mondays.

The publication dates and deadlines are:

Photo Monday 11th April and the deadline for submissions is Saturday 9th April at 8pm

Community Poem 18th April and the deadline for submissions is Saturday 17th April at 8pm

Visual Community Poetry Project 25th April (Easter Monday) and the deadline for submissions is Thursday 21st April at 8pm (because of Easter)

Please send your submissions to stilllife365days(at)gmail(dot)com. And use the submissions type (photo sunday, community poem, visual challenge) as the subject. Next Monday will be Photo Monday, and you have less than one week before the deadline. The challenge with Photo Monday is to take a picture that explores your grief using the theme of water. If you find you are having trouble getting a creative visual idea, post a help message in the comments section of this post and we can all help out with ideas.

I love the Community Poem, I think I already said that. It is going to be the following Monday 18th April.

About the Community Poem. This month I would like you to write two lines of prose exploring your reflections on water and grief. I am posting two lists of words, please use one of the words from each list in each line of your prose. So that is one word from list 1 written into Line 1, and one word from List 2 written into Line 2

Here are the lists,

1.

aqua,

awash,

baptize

bathe,

damp,

dehydrate

drench,

drool,

dry

flood,

hose,

inundate,

irrigate,

moisten,

saturate,

soak,

souse,

spatter,

spray,

sprinkle,

steep,

submerge,

wash,

wet,

2.

flood,

deluge,

rain,

ripple,

storm,

stream

tidal,

tears,

waterfall,

I did a poetry workshop last year sometime and there were so many wonderful individual bohemian type people there who wrote some very amazing things. One thing I remembered from the guest poet (Drew Dellinger) was that poetry was essentially "memorable speech". So I will attempt some memorable speech to explain where I am going.

I will use the words bathe and ripple.

First, I try to collect phrases and words that come to mind that relate to the word bathe;

stepping into, foot first, hot ankles, naked, prepared, wash, pink, heat, anticipate, bubble

This is how my two lines read;

Awkward weary steps in fear spreading

wraps grief ripples round ankles unused to bathing in death

Here is the second part of this challenge which I am calling the Community Visual Poetry Project. Its a visual project because we are going to see your written art take the form of visual art.

I would love to see your handwriting, in this technology age we rarely see handwritten things. Please try to use your natural handwriting, so that means the language and the style that you would normally scribble a note to yourself is perfect. I would like you to please write your lines in circles like the ripples that raindrops make in puddles. Then scan or photograph it and send it to stilllife365. I will create a visual project from everyone's lines to post on the third Sunday in April.

This is how I did it, I drew circles on a piece of paper with a black marker. I put my sheet of copy paper over it and wrote my lines using the black marker circles as a guide. This is how it looks. I am sure yours will be wonderful and together it will be amazing.

Happy photo snapping and poem building my village.

Love from Australia,

Julie

Artist to Artist: Julie Cozens

Artist to Artist is a regular feature for still life 365. Through a dialogue about the creative process, grief, loss and art, the idea is to learn more about the art you see on still life 365 and the mother, father or family member creating it. In turn, we hope you learn more about your own art, creative process and grief. Artist to Artist a regular monthly feature of this blog space. If you have an artist that you would like to learn more about, or interview, please email me.

Julie Cozens' son Thomas was born with many complications in October 2007. He lived 135 days and died in February 2008. I can't rightly remember when I met her, but I know that early in my grief and journey I became acquainted with her. Julie has explored poetry, photography, art and graphic design at still life 365. I began watching Julie's work come into my inbox in the early months of this project. Julie’s first submission was poetry, and she started off the “about this piece” section with, “I don’t usually write poetry, but…” And that defines Julie’s creative journey—she is brave, honest, and innovative. Julie joined community poems, mid-month challenges and submission calls whenever they came through the pipeline. When I put the call out for a guest editor position, Julie was the first person to respond. “I don’t usually edit, but I would love to try.” That epitomizes Julie.

It is my great pleasure to introduce April's guest editor. We decided to kick off the month by having an artist to artist conversation, so you can get to know her a little better. We talked recently about art, creativity and grief.


Hi, Julie, thanks for agreeing to talk to me about art and grief. Let me just first say how sorry that Thomas is not with you.

Thanks Angie, it's a pleasure to have this chat. I am very sorry that your Lucy is not with you too.

Can you tell us a bit about your son and family?

Thomas is the fourth of my children. I have four sons, the eldest being born in 1984, then another in 1986 and my youngest surviving child born in 1996 before Thomas who was born in 2007. I think I am one of the oldest Mums in this community with a recent loss, I am now 47 years old. I am married to Dean and he is Thomas' Dad. Dean has no surviving children. Dean and I live with one teenager, two Irish Terriers (Doug and Erin) and one Tenterfield Terrier (Bella). We live in a large suburb of Melbourne, Australia. It's near many beaches. My eldest children live in their own homes with their partners. They are very busy, but they usually catch some time with me on the phone or in person most weeks.

I always like to kick off these chats with just a brief overview of how art played a role in your life before Thomas died. I have to say that we have been sharing your art for over a year now. So many people connect with your work. You have submitted poetry, photography, digital artwork, even a grief sudouko. You work in so many medium.  Is that something you always did, or are you exploring more medium? Do you have a medium that you gravitate towards?

I have always been a sewer, my first love of art was designing and sewing clothes for my doll Giggles, I got a hand driven Singer sewing machine for my 10th birthday. I still have my doll Giggles, she has 1973 stamped on her bottom. As I became a teenager and playing with dolls was not cool anymore, I discovered a love of painting and drawing through art class at high school. I also did Graphic Art and Photography. I have loved photography ever since. Then as a young adult, I started a career as a Draftsman / Tracer in the Engineering field. I love drawing plans, it's like dreaming on paper. Over the years I have drawn countless plans for things that never happened except for inside my head. Most recently I have been redesigning my backyard. It hasn't happened yet either because I am still saving money but it will happen. I also draft my own clothing patterns and make clothes that I design, I haven't done any of that since Thomas died. I want to make a quilt out of all his clothes, but I can't bring myself to unpack the boxes, yet. I knit and crochet too. My art in the past usually appeared whenever I had some fabric and scissors or some yarn and a hook.

As for art for me today, it mostly revolves around photography and writing. I have been doing some drawing lately too. This blog has really prompted me to "do" art, simply because I wanted to share in the experience, to feel included, found, home.

Art does feel like home to me too. I love what you say about how drawing plans is like dreaming on paper. That is beautiful.  How do you think your art has changed because of your grief? And how do you think your grief has changed because of your art?

Grief has changed my art. I see it as being more purposeful now. Before it was quite willy nilly (Australian slang term meaning all over the place or random). Basically I did whatever took my interest at the time. But anything can be art, I think art is an expression of your soul that comes via your hands or body. I have been a single parent for much of my life so the necessary things in life became my medium, like gardening, cooking and sewing.

My grief has a voice since I have been artistically expressing it. I think it is so important to have a voice, to know who you are. While I don't believe I am defined by Thomas' death, my life has been shaped by his life and death and the consequences of both. Having a voice is a way of exploring who I am inside my grief. My grief was so unexpected. I don't think anyone I know could have predicted my grief reaction, it took me completely by surprise, I am normally a "take it all in my stride" kind of person. I am usually the dependable one, not easily panicked, I am normally always calm. I find that writing is like cleaning the wound inside me.

I am not a trained writer and sometimes I wonder if I will ever be able to write smooth flowing expressions like the ones I read on other blogs. Probably not.

As much as creating art has been part of your grief, viewing art becomes part of this journey too. How has  connecting with other grieving artists helped you?

There are so many amazing artists out there and so many unique ideas that I can learn (steal) from. Sometimes I see something and it stops me in my tracks, some things are so raw, or innocent, or simple, or complex, or heartbreaking and I am thinking of photographs, prose, sculpture and craft that I have seen here on stilllife365. And Angie, when I first saw that you were going to post a year of art by grieving families I didn't think of myself as an artist in a contributing way. I sort of saw myself as a copying type of artist, but when you asked for two lines in the community poem a couple of words leapt to my mind and so I had the confidence to try. Then you asked for a photo and I had one already on my computer. You have made it easy for me to join in and belong, so I must say that connecting with you has been a huge boost to my confidence.

I think comments are really important too because a comment might be the difference between someone deciding whether or not to submit art ever again. A comment creates a connection, it says "I'm feeling your space", or "you touched me" or "I acknowledge your pain", it's connections that matter.

I couldn't agree more. Comments make this place extraordinary. Thank you for reminding us of that. I think that I had a lot of hopes for this space, but one was that it was a space that freed grieving parents from the "paralysis of perfection" as Rachel from Curls O' Fred calls it, or the voice of self-doubt. Just let themselves be free to explore grief in a different language, the language of art and poetry. I really wanted still life 365 to be a community, and it has exceeded every expectation I had of it.


I take my hat off to you Angie, this blog was a great idea. I am very glad you came up with it.

Also, thank you so much for agreeing to guest edit for the month of April. I understand you have a theme for the month. Can you tell me a little bit about the theme you chose and why you chose it?

Thanks Angie, this is great fun I am glad that I put my hand up to have a go. The theme of the month is water. I have chosen it because I live near water and it is part of my daily life. I can see water from my street. I am drawn to the water nearby, whether it is the ocean beaches or either of the bayside beaches, whenever we go on an outing it's usually to water. I find it is so intimately tied with grief also. Long reflective walks are more reflective and longer at the beach. I write Thomas' name in the sand at beaches and take photos. And I also have a picture of the one Carly Dudley wrote in the sand in Western Australia. I wonder how many of us babylost parents who read this blog have one of her pictures.

I would imagine hundreds. Maybe all of us. When I first came on the scene, Carly was the only one writing names anywhere. It was sacred to me to see Christian's beach and have my Lucy join the others there.

Yes, I remember feeling so special that a stranger would take the time out of her day to write his name and photograph it then blog it with the words I gave her. It's where I connected with other bablost bloggers that I still follow today.  I have many photos of Thomas' name written in the sand now and for some reason I have thousands of photos of the water too since Thomas died and I don't really know why.

For me, my walk with grief started around the same time that I was found to be carrying too much amniotic fluid. I didn't know why it was such a problem at the time and I didn't have a doctor who felt they needed to share the reason. I googled it because I didn't have the courage to ask. Thomas was floating in about 150% of the water he was supposed to have, and that was at 35 weeks gestation. At 36 weeks he had around 180%, by the time I had an emergency caesarian section at 37.6 weeks there was about 2 liters of fluid. Thomas was born with a birth defect called Oesophagael Atresia which meant that everything he swallowed came back out of his mouth. His Oesophagus  did not join his stomach and that is why he couldn't digest the amniotic fluid, so that is why it kept building up and building up. They couldn't see his OT in scans but they could see that the fluid was building up. The doctor had a good idea that something was wrong. Something pretty normal and uneventful spelled disaster for our baby Thomas.

I must say that the Children's hospital in Melbourne have expert surgeons who do Oesophagus repair all the time (around 15 to 20 a year). And it was pulmonary hypertension that caused Thomas' death but the pulmonary hypertension was bought on by the major surgery he had to undertake to have his Oesophagus repaired. Catch 22. Thomas put up a brave fight and had meningitis and pneumonia, a tracheostomy, a feeding tube (PEG), blood transfusions, a seizure and cellulitis, he was given every chance to recover but lost his battle after 4 and a half months in neonatal intensive care. It was an intense experience for us too.

A book that really impacted me not long into my new normal, was one called "Living on the Seabed" by Lindsay Nicholson.  There were many days I felt as though I was pinned to the ground by that suffocating crushing feeling of grief and my only view of the world was murky and distorted, it was as if I was lying on the seabed and trying to participate in life on the surface.

That was beautifully put, Julie. That is a great way to end today's chat. What an amazing theme and reason for coming to that theme. Thank you so much for talking to me and for guest editing this space. I can't wait to see and read what happens this month.

Thanks Angie, I feel that it's a privilege and I am going to do my best.

I am excited for the month of April, and I hope you are too. We will post Julie's theme post and community poetry challenge for April later today.

I Have Nothing, Julie Cozens

I Have Nothing
by Julie Cozens

I have Nothing

Nothing new to feel
Grief mows me down
I dodge it sometimes
Today I didn't try
The Anniversary day

Nothing new to say or blog
It has been said, written
Fading now to forgottenness
Greeting card genuine
Trauma obscured

Nothing new to show
Photographs, movies
No birthday cakes
First steps, smiles, teeth
Baby onesies never outgrown

Nothing new to hear
No laughter no cries,
Nor the sound of his name
His running feet
All quiet in his grave

:::

about this piece.
It's Thomas' Anniversary today. It's been 3 years. I quickly jotted down my thoughts this morning, I was thinking about the nothing of today. If I don't drive his remembrance then it will fade into nothing. That there is nothing new, except the milestone of 3 years since he died. Its actually not even his anniversary today, its the 29th February which only comes every 4 years. I have decided to mark his anniversary on the last day of Summer every year, because he died on the last day of Summer 2008, February 29th. - Julie

about the poet.
Julie Cozen's son Thomas was born in October 2007. In Julie's words, "I was 42 years old, I was already the Mum of three children, aged 11, 21 and 23. He was born with many health challenges and needed surgery to save his life. He was just not well enough to survive the surgery. Thomas died aged 135 days old in February 2008. I am trying to live around my broken heart." 


Remembering Thomas today with his family.

Grief Sudoku, Julie Cozens

Grief Sudoku.
Julie Cozens.
Digital Media.

:::

about this piece.
I have made a grief sudoku, it doesn't add up, it is impossible to solve, the usual rules do not apply. The number all originate from the outgoing decade, I have mixed feelings about this last 10 years. I am glad to see it go, because of the pain it contains, but it also hosts so many precious memories.  Like the 135 days of Thomas' life and that he was my 4th son. And the sadder ones like 2008 when grief became part of me. There are triumphant ones like the 27 kilos I lost. And happier ones like the 3 dogs that keep me from sliding over the edge some days. Welcome to the 201st decade. --Julie

about the contributor.
Julie Cozen's son Thomas was born in October 2007. In Julie's words, "I was 42 years old, I was already the Mum of three children, aged 11, 21 and 23. He was born with many health challenges and needed surgery to save his life. He was just not well enough to survive the surgery. Thomas died aged 135 days old in February 2008. I am trying to live around my broken heart."

Relax, Julie Cozens.

Relax
by Julie Cozens

Anxiety, stress, gifts bought with love, fail
Elastic money, bills and school fees, stretch
Emotional mess, panic attack soon
Yuletide gift shoppers, buy, buy and buy, stuff

House always messy, symptom of worry, fear.
A friend to talk to, on equal terms, seek.
Coffee currency, share, be succinct, chat.
Guilt motivates me, get to the gym, walk.

Wedded bliss what's that? Expectations, trust?
Blowout is coming, sense or invite? fight.
Normal crazy life, normal these days, nuts.
Trying to control life means serious stress.

Why do I bother, I need balance now.
I wrote this poem to clarify thoughts.
Now I am feeling sadder and guilt.
Try to remember the other side, flip.

Start with a budget, add up the bills, debt.
Shops are a jungle, plan the gift hunt, smart.
Execute the task, stay focussed now, go.
Retail therapy? Stay local start small.

Cut down my worries, cut down on mess, breathe.
A whisper a friend, His name I pray, Lord
A listener forever, He's seen it all, life.
Walking will calm me, so much better, fit

Happy "Forever", up's and there's downs, ride.
Take sides or take peace, choose not to fight, calm.
Challenge the normal that makes life nuts, choice.
Live life, be in life, out of the box, free.

Balance is pretend, who's in control, you.
First thing to leave me, theme of despair, gone.
Worries defined me, now a new day, rise.
Stronger and able, change my world right now.

:::

about this piece.
This poem is not about grief. I wrote it because I am trying to do something therapeutic with the anxiety I feel about my life. I know that I am different since Thomas died. I don't really know which parts of me are the new me and which parts are my personality trying to override the new me. I decided to write down my worries so I can see them on "paper" and explore the idea of looking at them differently. One day I will work out how all the pieces fit, until then I am trying to relax. The end line "change my world right now" is about changing my mind about allowing anxiety and control to rule. Maybe it is about grief after all. --Julie


about the contributor.
Julie Cozen's son Thomas was born in October 2007. In Julie's words, "I was 42 years old, I was already the Mum of three children, aged 11, 21 and 23. He was born with many health challenges and needed surgery to save his life. He was just not well enough to survive the surgery. Thomas died aged 135 days old in February 2008. I am trying to live around my broken heart."





To kick off the year, I thought Julie's beautiful poem was absolutely perfect. For 2011, still life 365 will publish works Monday through Thursday, as work is submitted. You can email work to stilllife365days(at)gmail(dot)com. Submission guidelines are listed under the tab "how to submit". Thank you all for continuing this project into 2011 and beyond.

Photo Sunday: The End.

 












The End.
Julie Cozens.

about the piece.
Solid footing ends,
my innocence ends.
Grieving takes over,
Like water, heavy.
Life continues on
And on, always on.

The next picture doesn't say anything about falling.

 :::

The End of a Season... The End of a Mum.
Amy McCarter.

about the photograph.
This photo was taken in Liam's garden during the first snow of the season.
December 4, 2010

:::

The End of the Road.
Sally.

about the piece.
This was as the sun was setting on New Year's Eve, 2008. The last day of the year she was born. The last day we were able to grieve in her birth and death year. The year that was the end of our innocence and naivety. It felt like the end of the road for us, as I was not sure how I could possibly keep putting one foot in front of the other in a brand new year. But it also felt like a new beginning, as we were desperate to to put the year behind us and try and move forward in to a new year that would hopefully include more happier times. And it did. -Sally

Photo Sunday, Shadows

Shadows.

Jessica.

Walks With Frost

about the photo.
One night my daughter Hadley was blowing bubbles on our back deck.  I took photos.  As I watched her, and looked at the images coming up, I liked the shadowy effect.  It looked like she was putting on an old-fashioned shadow puppet show for me.  I feel like I have always looked into the shadows of things because they hold secrets.  I began to think that every time one of Hadley's bubbles popped it was her little brother, Frost's hands reaching out from the shadows to play.  He was helping us to see the secrets of where he had gone.  -Jessica.

:::

Untitled.
Amy McCarter.
Surviving the Day EveryDay.

:::

Shadow Belly.
Ceil.

:::

Shadow Steps.
Julie Cozens.

about the photo
I participated in the Walk to Remember in Melbourne last weekend. For me, this picture tells the story of the walk. Literally it is a picture of one footstep, it's my foot and my shadow. Figuratively it tells my grief story. I carry the shadow of Thomas' death, its connected to me and I carry it everywhere I go, even on the days it's not visible. I did the walk alone, in a crowd of a thousand, sadly this picture also tells the story of my loneliness in grief. -Julie

:::

Shadow.
Holly.
Momentum.


about the photo.

Just enough strength to stay afloat
I await my turn to find a glimmer of light
A momentary escape from the shadows
Which hold my soul captive.
-Holly


:::

 

Naked and Alone.
Audrey.
Glutton Button.

:::

Shadow.
Kieran.
Radar of Chance (Kieran's wife Louise)  

about this photo.
I am Laura's Dad. I considered writing something about Laura's shadow over our lives or such, but that's not what this image is about. I take photographs for all sorts of reasons; but mostly because image-making is how I define myself. I continue to make images, even after Laura, because I don't know how not to. This shadow lives near my house and only comes out at night. -Kieran

:::


Thank you to everyone who participated in still life 365's Photo Sunday. Photo Sunday is a regular monthly feature of still life 365. On the second Sunday of each month, we will showcase photographs taken around the monthly theme. Monthly themes are announced and explored in various weekly creative challenges. See the sidebar to explore more of November's challenges. The goal of Photo Sunday is to highlight the art of photography and help explore different aspects of grief through the camera lens.

Next Sunday is Mid-Month Challenge in which you can choose any medium, including photography, to explore the theme of Shadows. Also, next Sunday (November 21st) is the deadline for submitting a piece for the still life 365 printed journal. Please see this post for more information.

When Tears and Broken Hearts Agree, Julie Cozens

When Tears and Broken Hearts Agree
by Julie Cozens

Commission new life, with hope
our brand new person,
first child, a brother, grandson
love dwells in every thought

Belly swells, a promise of life
fluttering begins, plans take shape
changes inside, waiting outside
the craftsman takes time

Stories told in the dark of night
how he will this
and I will that
excitement and longing grows

Scenes imagined on cue
malls an ever flowing baby parade
modern strollers, co-ordinated, accesorised
proud mums, I thought I'd be one too

Finely tuned, expertly crafted
so delicate, so dependant in the womb
doctors watch and wait, a few weeks more
horizon growing stormy, cold with fear

My child, my baby so close inside me
helpless to help him, pray
please let him be born Lord
alive to see his daddy's face

Hope and wait, pray and pray
parents today, a cry signals relief
now we are three, happy
marathon ran, all survived

Preparation is never enough
on the backdrop of fluffy blankets
minds wrestle to grasp
reality of anatomy gone wrong

Unknown words tumble forth
Patient and kind doctors explain
Surgery, transfer, emergency transport
first we will bring him in,

Maker made him, picked just for us
He knew we loved him
right from when he was really small
best place now, third floor somewhere really huge

Education, information learned, relayed
BP, HR, platelet, chromosome
too much, not enough, chimes call out
intense, neonatal, intense

Surgery stopped, the best know when
delay will save lives, he'll be stronger then
baby so still, so many machines
time passes by in fifteen minute alarms

Hope floats then drowns
be brave, stay positive, pray
make milk, it's something only I can do
cherish life, collect memories, be there

Belief outstrips, setbacks overcome
success, anatomy at last set right
hope and wait, pray and pray
Soon we will be a family at home

Created for a season, a purpose
time to leave, dignity
no more to be done, circle closing
tears and broken hearts agreed

Peace, loving arms our parting gift
yours, a whisper on the wind
richer and wiser we grew
welcoming and farewelling you

Bereaved, desolate days without end
patience till we meet in the next place,
we'll wait to see you there
in the garden, not on the third floor

:::

about this poem.
I wrote this poem last year and it tells the story of his life journey. It's a little bit more than a birth story. I feel very strongly connected to this poem, I still sob at the line intense, neonatal, intense. -Julie

This poem was originally posted on Julie's blog.

about the contributor.
Julie Cozen's son Thomas was born in October 2007. In Julie's words, "I was 42 years old, I was already the Mum of three children, aged 11, 21 and 23. He was born with many health challenges and needed surgery to save his life. He was just not well enough to survive the surgery. Thomas died aged 135 days old in February 2008. I am trying to live around my broken heart."

Remembering Thomas and thinking of Julie and her family on his third birthday.

Thomas' Scrapbook, Julie Cozens

Thomas' Scrapbook.

Julie Cozens

Digital Media.
:::

about the piece.
In Julie's words, "This is a digital scrapbook page that I originally published on Scrapblog. I took this picture when Thomas was about 100 days old. I love the way his little fingers are stretched out. They seem perfect for butterflies to rest on, so that is the idea I started with and it just grew until he turned into a butterfly himself. I am very happy with how this picture turned out, it always makes me smile."

about the contributor.
Julie Cozen's son Thomas was born in October 2007. In Julie's words, "I was 42 years old, I was already the Mum of three children, aged 11, 21 and 23. He was born with many health challenges and needed surgery to save his life. He was just not well enough to survive the surgery. Thomas died aged 135 days old in February 2008. I am trying to live around my broken heart."

Remembering Thomas and thinking of Julie and her family on the second anniversary of his death.

If I Wished on Wishes, Julie Cozens

If I Wished on Wishes
by Julie Cozens

Memories are the places I go to enjoy.
Time spent quietly with my little boy.
Sometimes others see that I've gone.
Mostly, before they know it, I'm home.
Longer vacations might take all day.
Those are the days I stay in pj's.

But

Since I lost you, I can't stop searching.
I do it without even thinking.
I've googled your name, and searched the maps,
Checked the Thomas Streets with the IPhone Earth app.
You're not on the social networking sites either.
The picture isn't yours on Facebook friend finder.

If you had email, I'd send you one every day.
If you had a mobile, I would SMS, "Hey :-)"
If you were here, I would take your picture.
And that cute T-shirt, it now would have fit you.
I'd round up a million memories of you as you are,
and store them all away in my heart.

I know you are somewhere nearby,
not in the ground and not in the sky.
You are somewhere that I cannot go,
I'll still keep on looking for you, even though,
I know it won't be you when I get close
(because life is better when lived with hope).

It's just not fair that you went so soon,
I know you were ready, I suppose I was too,
And I know its not a permanent goodbye.
But I miss you. I miss you all of the time.
And, if I wished on wishes, my wish would be to
hold you again, and remember every part of you.

:::

about the poem.
Julie talks about the poem If I Wished on Wishes: "I do not normally write poetry but in this poem, I was giving voice to the search that I found myself on after Thomas died. I felt driven to look for him, to keep checking in prams, to mentally compare him to other babies I saw when I was out and about, to check clothes for sale, to buy toys. I actually caught myself scrutinizing a satellite map of the hospital where he died. I have typed his name into Face.book and checked the picture. I still have the phone number for his hospital room in my mobile phone contacts."

about the poet.
Julie Cozen's son Thomas was born in October 2007. In Julie's words, "I was 42 years old, I was already the Mum of three children, aged 11, 21 and 23. He was born with many health challenges and needed surgery to save his life. He was just not well enough to survive the surgery. Thomas died aged 135 days old in February 2008. I am trying to live around my broken heart."