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I was a child, yes, even little old me, 
curious and happy, my smile wild with glee. 
But at the tender age of seven, 
I learnt that family go to heaven. 

My aunt, a distant, great, great one, 
who I'm told baked Welsh cakes second to none, 
passed on by in her sleep, 
no sickness, no hospital stay or cardiac bleep. 

Too young to mourn my mother said, 
too far to go for distant dead. 
To be honest, it wasn't until that time, 
that I learnt about my family's line. 

My grandad had two sisters see, 
each as unique as one could be. 
One died some time before my birth, 
now sadly this aunt was laid in earth. 

Yet, along came a parcel, a letter, a note, 
'To Charlotte' , from 'Uncle Sam' it wrote. 
The parcel, I opened, like any young child, 
ripping at the packaging, like kid gone wild. 

Inside was a teddy bear, my aunt had owned, 
given at the same age as me, seven years old. 
The letter was written in cursive, neat, aligned, 
with a twenty pound note, how beyond kind? 

It said 'use on something you will treasure, 
please write me a letter, at your leisure'.
Who would have known that I'd do just that,
buying a fishing rod, a reel, tackle and hat. 

And sooner than later we visited, on my request, 
he greeted us, in wellies, lumberjack shirt and vest. 
Such a marvellous man, such stories he told, 
from sheep stealing dinners to finding lost gold. 

A friendship of two, age didn't matter, 
we were both unique, quirky, mad as a hatter.
Fast forward ten years, he is so gravely ill,
me at his beside, in the hospital on the hill. 

I speak of stories, now tales of my own, 
a distraction from his internal body groan. 
I hug, I smile, bless him for his love, 
and that next morning he was called above. 

Through bereavement and loss, I gained a friend, 
we remained close right until the end. 
Love like that, so unique, and so raw, 
changed my whole outlook down to the core. 
My heart still skips, like I was seven, 
when I reminisce about my uncle, now in heaven. 

06.05.2021

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