I have written a poem for a friend of mine, who lost her battle with breast cancer, and well because when all is said and done, home is the most important place to be.
One Last Smile
It was nearly Christmas time, on the day they brought you home.
They wanted you to stay, of course, but you would not hear them say. There was somewhere more important that you had to be that day.
Away from wires, and tubes, and the oxygen, you came. For there was somewhere very special that you had to be again.
Through the hills, past streets and houses, you drove on by to be. Round bends and winding corners, until only you could see.
A very special place, the only place, it seemed. That you could finally be you, and you could finally be free.
For it was family & friends for you, that proved the greatest treasures of all. A Yorkshire girl through and through – it made you stand up, and feel tall.
Just down that cobbled hill, and in through the front door you roamed. Everyone was waiting, on that day they brought you home.
The fire lit, the laughter rang, and the dog barked happily. Your husband hugged you tight, your children beamed, as they held to their mummy. For you had returned on that day, through the cold and wintery streets. You had come home again, to settle at your seat.
Your sister and your mum held so tightly to your hand, that they dare not let it go. And so, you whispered in their ears, for you had wished that it would snow.
All of your favourite people, in one room, just for you. Your best friends looked on to watch, they did not want to let you to go.
Your darling twins and nephew brought you hugs and kisses too. And you stopped to pause, just once for breath, as you smiled at them anew.
This was, for you at least, the most perfect place to be. Right back where you belonged, at home, with family.
As the wine began to flow and the dancing did commence, the happiness within your heart could scarcely take it all in.
You hugged those dear to you, and laughed, and joked, as the tears filled up your eyes. How lucky you felt to be, and proud, to have this precious prize.
In amongst the singing you stopped, and paused, once more. To catch your breath, and take it in, on that day they brought you home.
For out of the small window, just beyond the light, you noticed a small snow flake, it was just within your sight. And as you went to touch it, you knew your time had come, to gently let go, of the kind arms of your mum.
It was a wish so softly spoken that no one else would see you hear. Not even those who held your hand, the ones you held most dear.
And so you slipped on your coat quietly, for it was time for you to leave.
You did not wish to say goodbye, as you caught their eyes, and then. One last look, one last smile, one last touch. You did not dare look back again.
For it was snowing gently as you left, and all your wishes had come true. From down the cobbled hill you could hear the angels calling you.
The coldness of the Yorkshire air gently beckoning you in. As you wandered through the snow once more, past the stables, just like The Inn.
You had done what you set out to do, you had made it home again. On Christmas Day far far away, from anywhere but them.
As the snow flakes began to settle, on the cobbles and the stone.
Your heart, it swelled, your head held high,
on that day they brought you home.
For Wendy – I am glad you made it home again, all my love.