Like Jewels in My Hand

Jewels in my hand 

I hold dead friends like jewels in my hand
Watching their brilliance gleam against my palm
Turquoise and emerald, jade, a golden band

All ravages of time they can withstand
Like talismans their grace keeps me from harm
I hold dead friends like jewels in my hand

I see them standing in some borderland
Their heads half-turned, waiting for my arm
Turquoise and emerald, jade, a golden band

I'm not afraid they will misunderstand
My turning to them like a magic charm
I hold dead friends like jewels in my hand
Turquoise and emerald, jade, a golden band

By Sasha Moorsom (1931-1993)

As the New Year approaches I always remember a very dear family friend who died around this time some years ago. Growing up he was trips to the zoo, the Melbourne show, Luna Park, the beach. He was cheesecakes and treats and feeling like the most special girl in the world. As a kid I would listen to him and my dad talking late into the night, completely convinced they could solve all the problems of the world. Feeling completely safe, completely loved.

I still can't believe he will never meet my children, that they won't meet him. That he will not be there to  bring that steady, unconditional love to them, that vivid rainbow of memories of festive days outside the everyday.

This year many people dear to me have died. My beautiful, beloved Granny in Scotland. My inspirational Great Aunt, who was like a force of nature. The family friend who was my first connection to Tonga, which led me to my husband in the Solomon's Islands...and thus to my children. 

I take this time at the close of the year to be grateful that I knew them, to be grateful for my love for them and their love for me. 

To hold their memories, like jewels in my hand.