Lost in the fog

Lost in the fog 

In her own words

she said to me 

that she was lost in the fog 

like a daze and a cloud 

Just hanging over her

In those early days 

 the fog was given a name

she had her habits 

and her own ways 

In character

In her own way 

My Nan once told me 

she was lost in the fog 

and some days 

the thicker and heavier 

it would be

In her memories 

days from afar. 

and days that had come to pass,

she had the recollection for

but the day of confusion 

was the present moment 

that ever lasting now, 

began to repeat 

like a carousel 

overlapping on itself 

In her abilities

pride in her style, 

from how she wore her heals

whilst she danced her way on a weekly tea dance 

The look was complete with that match of the hand bag

It sealed the deal  

In the later days

her abilities were lost among the haze   

Dementia's root

intertwined her confidence 

and times she forgot what to do, 

but she over measured her own medicinal night cap

The whiskey became that one measure 

that was lost in a daze

My Nan told me 

She felt lost in the fog 

in the daze

she felt it 

alone

scared

with reassurance

and a touch of the hand

Mum and I reminded her

we're here

In time

My grandmother needed care

support from services

dedicated in dementia 

It was a time for rest

and through that 

with nowhere to go

this was a space 

for to come and let go

The final days,

each of us knew

supporting each other

and being there 

Mum held her hand and whispered

Jimmy is waiting for you

My Grandfather.

and I echoed, 

You can both dance 

together 

My brother and I 

were both there 

on her final hours

we spoke 

holding her hand

and with heart 

we spoke about fond times.

the shared times

the connected of times

In her own way 

she'll live on 

through the love,

and the memories in our hearts and minds 

and will never be lost