Tag Archive | Death

Donating Parts of My Body…Just A Thought

Would you donate your body parts? The thought of death always seems such a morbid topic, but it often comes to my mind especially after losing a loved family member. This is the reality of life; none of us will get out alive so we live with death drawing closer with every tick of the clock.Life, Death, Love, Donating Body Parts

I pray that I will grow well into doddering old age, however, should fate decide otherwise and I cross the bridge whilst parts of me are still useful, would it not be better to give up any part that could help to keep someone else alive?

I know that my culture may not particularly favour such practices, then again, I won’t be needing them again, will I? I reckon that I would be smiling from wherever I am seeing someone else keeping a part of me alive and spreading love.

What’s your take on this? 

 

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This Circle of Life…Personal

 

Tears leak from my eyes

as I watch your broken heart bleed

from the news that we all dread to receive

that a beloved one has passed on

 

I have no words enough to offer

that will mend the deep ache that you suffer

but I know that with time its sharpness will dull

with time you will smile again through the tears

 

In this circle of life, we dance in

never knowing whose turn to return it might be

but memories we gather of each other

to remind us when one is no longer there

 

My dearest Father-in-law just passed on, my husband aches.

I’m sharply reminded that our time apportioned to sojourn here is short. We must not tarry in seeking our purpose, finding peace, making beautiful memories and in living a life that would leave wonderful, indelible marks in the hearts of those who we love.

To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die. Thomas Campbell

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Purple Ribbons of Purple Wreath…

Image result for images of purple wreath

Ribbons of purple bruises
worn like a ring around her neck,
hidden from probing eyes’
by a pretty floral sweater.

§

how long will she hide a bleeding heart;
under beautiful colours of bold splashes,
counting the days till she’s asphyxiated,
and purple wreath for her death bed.

©

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

The Daily Post – Purple

The Hospice…

Celia bawled her eyes out and snot dripped down her nose . She’s never been one to sob softly into a handkerchief.

She had known that the end was close, but the news still hurt badly and tears swam in her eyes as she read the letter.

“Dear Celia, thank you for these years of love and care. For bringing warmth to the heart of an old lady. I’ve come to see you as the daughter I never had and would like to bequeath these items to you. Please accept them with all my love.”  Celia Oldham.

As usual, she had come for her visit at the hospice where she spent time keeping the old folks’ company; listening to their stories, reading to them and sneaking in an occasional toffee.

Over time the deceased became her favourite. Mrs. Oldham took to her when she learnt that they shared the same name and looked forward to the visits. She always took the pains to dress nicely in a frock, cardigan, pearl set and a gemstone ring that she wore on her third finger. Mrs. Oldham had no surviving family. Her sweetheart died during the war and she never remarried.

Inside the little box was a battered, old diary, the pearl set, the ring, a purple scarf, a bank draft for $200,000 raised in her name and the last book they had been reading – Jane Eyre.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

InLinkz

Thank you, Jade for the photo and Priceless Joy for hosting this charming platform where we unleash our stories:-)

Note: PJ please, I crave your indulgence for having overshot the word limit. I chopped and snipped the story here and there yet it refused to get shorter.


 out-of-the-silent-breath 2

The numbers…

Door[1]

The words Jen read startled her. The spidery handwriting indicated that the writer had struggled while writing.

“If you are reading this letter, thank you for finding me. It means that my time here is over and I am sorry that you are unfortunately saddled with the responsibility of laying me to rest. The money inside the envelope is some money set aside for my cremation. I don’t want to be buried in a box for I have lived buried for far too long inside one and would like my ashes to be scattered across the Seas so that it can float free. I loved the sea as a young girl.”

She wasn’t sure if she should simply put the letter back as she found it – back in the envelope marked ‘URGENT PLEASE READ’ and propped on the empty vase on the dust covered table. She could go away with the pie she had brought along and no one would know that she had visited, but her curious interest had been thoroughly aroused.

Everything about the little house down the cul-de-sac was intriguing. A pair of nondescript eyes in glasses always stared out of the window when she took her brisk jog in the evenings, until a week ago when she stopped seeing or feeling the eyes; the bold numbers on the intricately designed door were unusual since no other house in the area had such numbers and none of the neighbours she interacted with since her move to the neighbourhood knew anything about the person living behind the door.

Decision and justification made, she baked and went visiting. She reasoned that it was the neighbourly thing to do. To fraternize with those living close to you a little bit, especially if you are going to be living there permanently.

Her gentle rap on the door found it slightly ajar and she stepped in cautiously, repeatedly saying hello, to no response.

Jen’s eyes quickly took in the sparse furnishing, an implacable, unpleasant odour hitting her nostrils and sending alarm bells to her senses that something wasn’t right and to get away fast, but her piqued mind sent her walking down the short passage which led to the rooms.

The design of the bungalow was familiar since it’s shaped like hers but both houses were sharply different. Where her’s wore a cheerful, homey and inviting look, the atmosphere of this one was forlorn and tired. The drapes were worn with age, the wallpaper lifting at the corners, the dirty rug gave off a musty smell that mingled with the other smell that only grew stronger with each step.

A body laid on the bed in the second room as though in deep, peaceful sleep but the pungent smell of death belied it’s appearance. Rushing out of the house into the street for fresh air, Jen dialed the police.

Providing all the information that she could muster when they arrived, she watched with saddened interest as the men from EMS respectfully wrapped the frail body of an old lady in a body bag. Spying the numbers that was crudely branded on the inner part of her left arm which was so thin that her skin was almost translucent, Jen recognized that the numbers on the arm matched the numbers on the door.

What did it they represent? Who is the lady? What was her story? These questions raced through her thoughts and she wished she had followed her prying mind to seek the eye’s in the window earlier.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

The story behind the door. Discover challenge


Below is my first just published Poetry Book “Out of the silent breath” which is available on Amazon and Smashwords.

When you buy my book, you support me in an invaluable manner.

Stars, Five Stars, Logo, Icon, Symbol, Five, Rating

‘A Richly Layered and Passionate Read.’ Jan Cliff

Out of the silent breath

 

 

My full plate…

Crowded, Nest, Egg, Full, Overflowing, Overcrowded

For several weeks, I’ve felt listless and dissatisfied and recent incidents in the World emphasizes the sense of futility that I feel about life. My morale justs dips and I practically have to hang on with tenacious tentacles to all the positive mantras and pick-me-ups that I can think of.

My plate is heaped full of things to do and sometimes, taking a mere glimpse at them makes me want to go and lie down and sleep and hopefully, they will get themselves sorted out without much of my help and mental exertion.

I woke up this morning with a message tucked into my head that kept telling me to be appreciative of the privilege to be alive and the opportunity of having interesting things to tackle.

The message kept reverberating in my head that the gift of each day which is given, should never be taken for granted irrespective of our struggles because the death knell is a final and last call on this side of the divide.

As long as there’s life, hope lies within and today I’m grateful for my full plate of busy-ness and the opportunity to feel the Sun’s shine on my face.

I hope that are you grateful or thankful for something today. We have a lot of privileges surrounding us.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha


Below is my first just published Poetry Book “Out of the silent breath” which is available on Amazon and Smashwords.

When you buy my book, you support me in an invaluable manner.

Stars, Five Stars, Logo, Icon, Symbol, Five, Rating

From the very first poem, “Dreams,” this book captivates with passionate and perceptive words. Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha captures a broad expanse of the human experience in this book of richly layered poems.

Out of the silent breath

Featured Posts # 75…Share your post links.

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‘PLEASE KEEP SENDING IN THE LINKS.’ 

Today’s featured blogs posts are:

Do step in and show some love.

The cycle of life: an emotion-laden post. Losing a loved one is never easy no matter how old they grow. Show some support, please. Thank you 🙂

Summertime promises. A totally great idea to make a Summer list. Check out Pamela’s.

A letter to my new Eagle scout son: this beautiful letter got my sweet spot 🙂

Cobble hill soulful strut: taking a little pick-me-up walk and photos has a way of truly perking one up.

‘Do you want more eyes on your words?’

Well then, add your LINK INTO THIS LOOP.

P.S. Comments are disabled here to keep the loop tidy. Any comments or link you want to send can be added through the link in the post.

Thank you for your understanding and regards.

‘We create a cohesive community when we come together.’


Below is my first just published Poetry Book “Out of the silent breath” which is available on Amazon and Smashwords.

When you buy my book, you support me in an invaluable manner.

She is amazing at describing love and life in her poems. She creates such beautiful images with her words. Truly, she is a talented writer and I’m so excited to have her poetry book and to continue reading through it.

Out of the silent breath