49 years

I remember the day, the falling from grace
with a knock at the door and a slap in the face
as the vicar stood there with chagrin and poise
whilst the words hit me hard with the loudest of noise

My father was gone, no more to return
forlorn, devastated, my fifteen years spurned
But I rose from that moment and grew with a strength
that lessened the pain at last and at length

Though no February passes when I don't think of him
forty-nine long years later, eyes full to the brim
It's a sad day remembered yet of one I am proud
for with it to his memory I will always shout loud

©Jemverse

Photo – John Alan Croucher (10 May 1934 – 19 February 1974) R.I.P.

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Mother’s Day 2022

On Mother's Day no flowers to give
for mine has passed away
no chocolates or special treats
to spoil her on this day
But though with tinge of sadness
I recall the life she had
the happiness and laughter
there means I am mostly glad
And her passing was a blessing
when her eight decades they ended
for by grace before pandemic she
to better place transcended
So despite the fact it's three years gone
since Mum, you passed away
I'll raise a glass and with you smile
on this your Mother's Day

©Jemverse

Photo – Ruth Eunice Shrimpton (was Croucher, nee Dainton) 1931-2019

48 years

Nineteenth February time after time
and though 48 years, still etched in my mind
that overcast day and the falling from grace
from a knock at the door and a slap in the face
snatched the father away from the boy of fifteen
who in formative years was the worst kind of mean
and though time has healed the wound is still raw
so on this day every year he remembers and more
as he still sees him clear in his mind's eye and knows
that despite passing years the love never goes

©Jemverse

Photo – John Alan Croucher (10/5/1935 to 19/2/1974) – Jempics

Forever eighty-seven

Happy Birthday my Mother
you'd have been ninety today
but forever instead
eighty-seven you'll stay

The time of your passing
though sad was still right
but I still shed a tear
on occasion at night

But on fifth of September
remembering clear
I see that you're smiling
so Happy Birthday, my dear

©Jemverse

Photo – A big eldest son with a little Mum – Sally Croucher

For Pops

Look at me now Pops, I’m an older man now
I’m past sixty, the years have flown by
That slap in the face
has long turned to grace
yet still on this day I will cry

Nineteenth of February nineteen seventy-four
etched in my mind for all time
The day that you left
leaving family bereft
although all these years later we’re fine

Just four of us left now, Mum with you now
We are older and wiser and free
Yet still we recall
as the years pass and fall
with that promise that one day we’ll see

So this one’s for you Pops, this day I remember
once a year with a glass in the air
As with happiness here
with you share a beer
and the memories happily share

©Jemverse

In loving memory of my father – John Alan Croucher (10/5/34 to 19/2/74)

19 February 1974

The knock at the door
I remember it well
though forty-six years have now passed
The vicar right there
with something to share
for a slap in the face that would last

It was anger I felt
with a fist in the air
that my father had left in that way
And I heard not a sound
from that hole in the ground
as I stood on that February day

It’s a picture I have
that years never fade
A boy of fifteen there bereft
Not a word of a lie
quite unable to cry
in spite of the void that was left

But thankfully time
the healer of ills
has mellowed the anger to love
And the man of those years
can now shed the tears
as he thinks of his father above

The slap in the face
has turned to a hug
lingering, precious and mine
and though there’s still sadness
there’s also a gladness
with his memory shared at this time

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics

[In loving memory of my father – John Alan Croucher – 10/5/34 to 19/2/74]

Companion & Friend (Ruth)

As her eldest son, I wrote this as the eulogy for my late Mother’s life celebration on Friday 14 June last.

Ruth Eunice Shrimpton
Was Croucher, Nee Dainton
is having a whale of a time
So I thought I would capture a bit of her life
for you in some syntax and rhyme

Seven and eighty years is a
good innings to have for a start
And whilst we don’t have the time
for all of that here
These words have come from my heart

So bear with me a while
close your eyes if you like
Travel back in these lines for a bit
As I’ve tried here to capture a life lived in full
and share a little of it

I’ll take you back to the thirties
Ruth’s childhood days
and regale a few of those times
Then on through the years like a film in your heads
all woven into these lines

So let’s make a start
eighty years ago when
life was quite different from now
And though most of you here are younger than that
Cast your mind there with me somehow

Ruth earliest love was a
mongrel called Ted
A white dog with gingery ears
And at five Repton Road another called Gyp
the family dog for some years

Ruth’s Dad was a baker
and in the loft twixt the sacks
Snowdrop the little cat lived
keeping the rodent populace down
until the flour was sieved

And during the war
as the Bristol bombs fell
Tinker the tortoise-shell was
a comfort indeed to a girl in her teens
in the air-raid shelters because

Onto the fifties
and Ruth fell in love
with a graduate of Pharmacy
John Alan Croucher the graduate’s name
Dad to my siblings and me

A move up to Surrey
after two years or so
whilst retaining the West Country twang
And though the years passed Ruth never outgrew
her birth-born Bristolian slang

A couple of examples
to give you a taste
‘PEE-ANO’ for piano for one
Mispronunciation her forte it seemed
as Ruth was never quite done

Charles flew to Miami
a short while ago
and in conversation one day
Pronounced it ‘MEE-ARMY’, made us all laugh
in her own inimitable way

Ruth was a mother
and the fifties and sixties
had seen us four siblings all come
Her love it exuded, kept us all safe
Til our formative years were all done

Dad left in the seventies
His time had arrived
Went to heaven in seventy-four
And then there were five but love it endured
as there was a promise in store

The eighties arrived
and three of us left
But then from Ruth’s distant past
a widower called Tom arrived on the scene
Cupid’s arrow was once again cast

In eighty-five I gave her away
Unusual for a son then to do
But the pleasure was mine
as two hearts entwined
and true love she once again knew

Tom got his doctorate
Grandchildren came
Life knew its joys and its tears
But faith and its wisdom continued to live as it
had in her life through the years

Ruth as a grandma
A match made in heaven
Warm, soft, gentle and kind
are just some of the words they’ve given to me
of the Grandma they have in mind

Ruth was a selfless
woman of peace
with never a thought for herself
Faith to move mountains steadfast in love
in life and in failing health

She was wisdom and patience
and comfort and strength
with a smile that always saw fun
Finding the best in all that she saw
until her last days were done

A wife and a mother
A grandma and friend
A sister, an auntie and more
Ruth Eunice Shrimpton, we all here agree
was a person we call adored

And yes she’ll be missed
there’s no doubt of that
But think of her now if you will
Jumping and dancing and running about
ageless and no longer ill

When she left us
an angel I met at the door
took me aside with a smile
Left me picture to treasure and hold
in my mind’s eye and keep for a while

A rounders match waiting
on a warm summer’s day
And all of the loved ones she’d known
Waiting for Mum as she ran to them now
forever in her Father’s home

My father was there
Tom of course too
and her Mum and her Dad and her brothers
A celebratory game to welcome her home
with the angels and thousands of others

These words then are done
I’ll retake my seat
But leave a request if I may
Please don’t be sad but with Ruth be glad
on this celebratory day

©Jemverse

Photo – Jem of ‘Jemverse’ with his Mum, Winter 2017 – Sally Croucher

I hadn’t thought to publish this tribute to my Mother, who passed on 20 May this year; but know now that I must. Ruth would have wanted me too as it captures the heart of who I am and what I do.

Farewell but not goodbye

Today we say farewell to you
but definitely not goodbye
For some day we will meet again
when comes the day we die

So here’s to you our Mother dear
we’ll miss you, that’s the truth
But you are in a better place
A smiling John and Ruth

Say hello to Dad for me
and sing with us a while
on this your celebration day
as I try my best to smile

©Jemverse

Photo – Ruth Eunice Shrimpton (was Croucher, nee Dainton) – 5 September 1931 to 20 May 2019 – published on the day of her life celebration – Friday 14 June 2019 – Jempics

The red and the gold

The sunset is over
the fading has passed
the evening slip-slides away
We’ve said our goodbyes
and shared in the peace
that we saw at the end of your day

The red and the gold
have flooded the sky
The evening of life is now done
We’ve each kissed your head
and held your sweet hand
as the end of your life has now come

But as I left he smiled
and tipped me a wink
The angel there at the door
Whispered a greeting
said it was time
That this was what you’d waited for

‘She’s in good hands’ he said
‘And loving it now’
‘With a jump and a dance and a shout’
‘Shed a tear by all means’
‘But remember that this’
‘Is really what living’s about’

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics

[Written on the day my Mother – Ruth Eunice Shrimpton – passed; 20 May 2019].

Maybe?

Maybe today
It’s hard to know
The change is daily
Time to go
They’re waiting there
quite patiently
with open arms
I’m sure you see
Maybe today
the time has come
when you will know
the living’s done

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics